Chapter 213: The Princess Returns

Jiang Xuening never expected Xie Wei to be waiting for her.

As she stepped out of the mansion, holding the wooden box in her arms, she saw the carriage waiting outside for her, with Jian Shu standing beside it. For a moment, she had the illusion that time had rewound two years.

Lifting the curtain and stepping inside, she saw Xie Wei, and the sense of unreality grew stronger.

He was tidily smoothing the folds of his sleeve with unhurried precision. When he saw her enter, he merely glanced up and said, “Let’s go.”

His expression was indifferent, as if he hadn’t been waiting long.

A faint trace of weariness lingered at the edges of his brows and eyes, but it was subtle. It wasn’t that he wasn’t exhausted—it was simply that he had grown used to it. If even he found it unremarkable, no one else would think otherwise either.

Since that uncertain night when he sat by her bedside—whether in dream or reality—Jiang Xuening had barely seen him throughout the war.

The front lines advanced swiftly, and if the rear couldn’t keep up, everything would fall apart.

Lu Xian was capable, yes, but he was only responsible for “funds and provisions.” Without an official position, he lacked the authority and vision to manage everything in the rear. Naturally, Xie Wei had to oversee everything. One could even say that the rear was far busier than the front.

Jiang Xuening softly greeted, “Sir,” and then quietly took a seat across from him, still clutching the wooden box.

Xie Wei glanced at it and said, “Now that the princess is being brought back, your wish should be fulfilled. Where do you plan to go after leaving the borderlands?”

Jiang Xuening hadn’t expected him to be so blunt. But after a brief thought, she found it unsurprising. Lu Xian had overheard that night; it was only natural that Xie Wei would be aware of her intentions.

Moreover, he understood people too well. If he couldn’t even see through her small schemes, how could he be worthy of his title as the imperial tutor?

But still…

Her fingers rested on the edge of the wooden box, her gaze lowered. “I dare not tell you, sir.”

Xie Wei said, “So now you’re willing to speak the truth. But if I don’t let you go, where do you think you can escape to?”

Jiang Xuening fell silent.

Seeing her like this, Xie Wei felt an unbearable frustration. For a moment, he wanted to scold her harshly, to knock some sense into her. But he was afraid—afraid that if he woke her up, she would run to Zhang Zhe without hesitation.

The carriage left the city, heading toward Yanmen Pass.

When Shen Zhiyi had left for her marriage alliance, the evening sky had been darkening.

Now, as they went to bring her back, the morning light was just beginning to break.

Inside the carriage, silence stretched between them.

After a long while, Xie Wei glanced at the wooden box in her arms, recalling the young girl from years ago—one who had wept inconsolably, hugging her knees. He asked, “What virtues does Shen Zhiyi have that make her worth you giving up everything, risking life and limb?”

There was a hint of mockery in his tone.

Jiang Xuening felt a sharp sting from his words. She lifted her gaze to him, her eyes now cold. “Her Highness was very kind to me.”

In her past life, Jiang Xuening had no particular fondness for Shen Zhiyi.

But in this life, at the Chongyang Festival banquet in the Qingyuan Marquis Manor, all she had done was paint a single pink petal and offer an obviously flattering remark—yet Shen Zhiyi had treated her with genuine sincerity.

In Fengchen Palace, while studying, Shen Zhiyi had been her protector.

Even though she knew Jiang Xuening’s nature wasn’t good, she still indulged her and shielded her. No matter how others slandered Jiang Xuening, Shen Zhiyi never wavered. The way she treated her in the beginning was the way she continued to treat her.

And yet, such a kind person, simply because of her status as a princess, had been thrown into the treacherous tides of the imperial court. Forced to leave her homeland and marry into the Tatar tribe, her fate unknown and beyond her control…

Jiang Xuening could never forget two years ago when Shen Zhiyi, nearly imprisoned, had secretly celebrated her birthday in Mingfeng Palace.

Nor could she forget that bowl of longevity noodles, brought to her at midnight by a palace maid.

She only remembered crying bitterly that night.

The soup was full of tears, salty and bitter. Whether it tasted good or not, she no longer had a clear memory of it.

Jiang Xuening blinked and slowly said, “Someone like Her Highness—you cannot be, and neither can I.”

She spoke with utmost sincerity.

However, Xie Wei only curled his lips coldly. “Trapped in a cage, controlled by others, reduced to a fish on the chopping block—yes, I truly cannot be such a person.”

Jiang Xuening was at a loss for words.

So, she simply stopped speaking.

As the sky outside gradually brightened, the towering Yanmen Pass, built between two mountains, finally came into view.

The wind and sand outside the pass had carved countless weathered scars into the earthen walls.

On the gate tower, banners fluttered high in the wind.

Beyond the pass, the fortifications stretched along the mountains, an unbroken line. Three massive stone walls and over twenty smaller stone walls encircled the city like an impenetrable fortress.

Within the pass lay the fertile lands of the Central Plains; beyond it, the desolate wilderness.

Shen Zhiyi still remembered the journey when she left the capital, traveling beyond the pass.

The scenery changed along the way, from prosperity to barrenness.

When her carriage passed Yanmen, she had turned back for one last look. The gray-yellow walls, under the darkening twilight, seemed stained with blood—tragically beautiful. Looking ahead at the unknown road before her, she had seen the setting sun sinking into the vast wilderness, the wind howling through the open land. A winding, indistinct path stretched into the distance, seemingly connecting to the sky itself, endless and unbroken.

Through two years of hardship, she had never imagined she would live to return.

The childhood friend she once knew had now become a general commanding thousands of soldiers. At this moment, he was riding a black-hoofed warhorse at the front of the procession, his figure illuminated by the morning light.

Everything had changed.

Shen Zhiyi felt no joy—only a deep sense of desolation.

Her rounded belly was proof that she was soon to be a mother, and the thought of what awaited her filled her with unease.

As the carriage neared Yanmen Pass, everything became clearer.

At this moment, inside and outside the pass, soldiers were already assembled. On the city walls and within the ranks, armor gleamed, and many faces bore scars with blood yet to dry. But whether young or seasoned warriors, every one of them stood facing the northwest wilderness!

Someone, somewhere, was the first to see the long, dragon-like procession approaching, and the flag at its head.

Suddenly, a loud voice rang out:

“General Yan’s command banner! It’s General Yan’s banner! The princess has returned—Her Highness has returned!”

At that moment, Jiang Xuening’s entire body trembled.

Upon arriving at Yanmen Pass, she had followed Xie Wei up the towering walls to look out.

The rising sun in the east was dazzling, making it difficult to see clearly.

Only when the long convoy passed beyond the scattered points of light in her vision did she finally see clearly—amidst the procession, that carriage swaying under the draped curtains…

“Your Highness!”

Her heart pounded wildly.

Without a second thought, she lifted her skirts and, like a bird taking flight, spun around and dashed down the steep steps from the city tower, away from Xie Wei’s side.

Xie Wei instinctively reached out, but his fingers only grazed the edge of her sleeve.

The silk fabric slipped through his fingers like a passing breeze, leaving only a fleeting chill.

By the time he looked up again, she was already below the city tower.

The wind was bitterly cold, yet Jiang Xuening seemed not to feel it at all. She ran straight through the ranks of motionless soldiers below.

Around her, countless eyes filled with astonishment turned to watch.

But she didn’t care.

She rushed past the open city gates, heading toward the approaching convoy, toward that one carriage in the midst of it all.

Still, she called out, “Your Highness—!”

Shen Zhiyi’s cold and weary heart suddenly jolted.

A voice—faintly familiar—came drifting against the wind.

She sat up abruptly and, without hesitation, threw open the curtain in front of her!

The girl who once lifted a brush and left a mark on her cheek.

The girl who, emboldened by her protection, ran wild in Yangzhi Zhai.

The girl who clutched her sleeve in the imperial garden, saying she would take her away…

Now, that very girl came running out of the long-weathered city gate, breaking into her vision with a long-lost, burning vitality.

Shen Zhiyi wondered if she was dreaming.

A tide of warmth surged from the depths of her eyes, filling her frozen heart to the brim.

Everything had changed.

Jiang Xuening had not.

The procession came to a halt.

Yan Lin reined in his horse, silent.

Jiang Xuening finally reached the carriage. Her hurried steps slowed as she lifted her gaze and saw Shen Zhiyi standing on the carriage shaft.

The once-elegant palace robes now seemed too large on her, swaying like fragile paper in the wind.

A sudden sorrow struck Jiang Xuening like a blow.

She stopped, her bright eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Yet the next moment, she stubbornly curved her lips into a smile.

The wooden box in her hands was pressed tightly against her chest.

Bathed in the golden morning light, whipped by the fierce border winds, Jiang Xuening knelt on one knee beneath the carriage and lifted the box high.

She looked up at the princess, her smile radiant.

“Your Highness—your homeland, your country, and your capital.”

When the day comes that Yan Lin leads the iron cavalry of Great Qian to break through Yanmen—

Bring this soil back to me.

Return it to our homeland. Return it to our capital.

Shen Zhiyi had nearly forgotten.

To ease Jiang Xuening’s worries, she had once spoken those grand, sweeping words. She had made such a promise.

But Jiang Xuening had never taken it as a mere jest.

The tears long held in Shen Zhiyi’s eyes finally fell.

She took the wooden box with trembling hands, opened it, and as she did, she choked up.

Then, she bent down and pulled her childhood companion into a tight embrace.

Her throat was so constricted that she couldn’t utter a single word.

Beyond the pass, the vast wilderness stretched endlessly.

Inside and outside Yanmen, the assembled armies, like a great tide, suddenly dropped to their knees.

Toward the carriage, toward the princess they could barely see, they bowed low and shouted in unison:

“Welcome back to the capital, Your Highness!”

The sound rolled forth like a tidal wave, surging into the heavens, thundering in their ears.

The banners snapped in the fierce wind, stretching as far as the eye could see.

On the city wall, Xie Ju’an stood unmoving.

Like an unyielding mountain, he remained indifferent to the joys and sorrows of the mortal world, merely watching the reunion with a cold, detached gaze.

Then, a faint, sharp-edged smile curled his lips.

Shen Zhiyi’s gaze traveled through the air, and in that moment, it met his.

The scholar from the Fengchen Hall lectures of old.

Yet now, she felt no trace of nostalgia, no warmth of reunion—only a coldness that seeped into her bones.

And beneath that, an overwhelming sense of irony and sorrow.

She had grown up in the palace.

She had spent years in Tatar lands.

She had long since learned to perceive hidden truths.

When Yan Lin led his forces to crush the Tatar royal court, she had already sensed something amiss.

She had asked Yan Lin.

Yan Lin had remained silent.

Now, at the border, she saw Jiang Xuening, who should not have been here.

She saw Xie Ju’an, who should not have been here.

Shen Zhiyi pulled Jiang Xuening even closer, her eyes red, her voice catching with laughter and tears.

“Silly Ningning.”

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