For now, let us set aside the love and resentment between master and disciple, and turn our gaze to the master and servant pair from Great Liang.
Not long after Nanxi’s departure, the ground trembled with muffled vibrations.
A troop of riders approached like dark clouds pressing down on the border.
It was the elite forces of Great Zhou, renowned throughout the Central Plains—the Futu Burial.
Great Zhou knew this hostage journey would encounter plenty of trouble, but they would not lift a finger to help until the very last moment.
In these times, no one was willing to risk their life for a complete stranger—let alone a princess from an enemy nation.
If not for military orders weighing upon them, they would gladly sit back and watch the Liang hostage die in some remote wilderness.
Yet the beacon fires of the northern border were already burning close to Zhou territory, forcing Great Zhou to ally with its sworn enemy, Great Liang.
And this hostage was Liang’s bargaining chip. Though worthless in truth, for the sake of survival, Zhou had no choice but to accept.
But was Great Liang truly sincere in allying with Zhou?
The emperor of Great Zhou neither knew nor wished to know.
She needed only an ally to share the pressure from the clans within her court. Everything else was irrelevant.
With the arrival of the Futu Burial, the Fei Family Army withdrew.
The two sides did not clash further.
The reason was simple—neither wished to lose their sisters over a single hostage.
In the end, the outcome was unexpected: nothing happened.
The arrival of the Futu Burial gave the master and servant pair a much-needed sense of security.
“Liang people, follow, go!”
The leading officer was not fluent in the Xia language, knowing only a few simple words, but it was enough for Feng Anlan and the old woman to understand.
They obediently climbed onto a donkey brought by the Futu Burial and followed behind the warhorses toward the town.
The Futu Burial certainly had spare fine horses, but they would never offer one for a Liang princess to ride. Providing a donkey was already an act of mercy—normally, they would tie Liang people behind the horses and drag them like livestock.
Chief Steward Su was naturally displeased that her imperial princess had to ride a donkey, trailing behind Zhou warhorses.
It was a tremendous humiliation.
But one must bow beneath the eaves.
In the presence of this Futu Burial troop, she could only swallow her anger and personally help her mistress onto the donkey.
As for Feng Anlan, her thoughts had long drifted far from concerns of dignity or national affairs.
Feng Anlan’s mind was filled with the heroic image of that boy.
Even in Bianliang—the most prosperous place under heaven—where she had grown up, she had never seen such a beautiful youth.
Not to mention, that boy had saved her in a moment of crisis, and his swordsmanship had been exquisite beyond compare, stirring longing in the heart.
Even more, when Nanny Su faced those bandits wielding long-handled blades, the boy had clearly intended to rescue them.
When he first saw those bandits, he had even felt admiration for them.
Yet afterward, he had been able to cast aside jianghu codes of honor, gripping the whisk to charge toward them in order to save her.
Though he was stopped and carried away midway, surely the boy harbored some feelings for her as well.
“If only a beauty like those found only in books could belong to me.”
Feng Anlan fantasized—imagining the boy’s shy, inexperienced manner as he served her in bed.
Her thoughts drifted further and further, a quiet blush rising on her cheeks.
She looked every bit the maiden who had yet to taste the flavor of love.
Though an imperial princess, she was truly an untouched virgin.
Her imperial mother held no great expectations for her, yet the books she ought to read and the rules she ought to follow had not been neglected.
Only now, those sage teachings could not suppress the fresh, vivid ripples suddenly stirring in her heart.
In the end, she was still too young, unaware of the boy’s true intentions.
Seeing her mistress’s hopeless demeanor, Chief Steward Su could only sigh.
By the time dusk gathered, the Futu Burial escorted the master and servant pair to a residence in Huaniang Town.
The plaque above the gate read “Zhang Mansion.”
The officer gave a few stiff instructions in the Xia language—the gist being that they could rest here for a few days before setting out again—then led the troop away, leaving only two soldiers to guard the mansion gates.
Master Zhang had already received word and personally came out to welcome them.
She was a plump-faced middle-aged woman, her smile warm and attentive, yet carrying the characteristic caution of a merchant.
She addressed Feng Anlan only as “young miss,” never uttering “Your Highness,” and ushered the pair inside with impeccable courtesy.
The small courtyard was serene.
The furnishings were not extravagant, but clean and comfortable—far more soothing than the days of windblown meals, exposed sleeping, and flashing blades.
Nanny Su carefully inspected the surroundings before her taut nerves finally relaxed a fraction.
Feng Anlan pushed open the window and saw several late plum blossoms budding in a corner of the courtyard.
The setting sun’s glow illuminated the flowers and plants around the pond.
Strangely, though there was a pond, no fish shadows were visible.
Feng Anlan gazed at the fishless pond in a daze, as if something had come to mind.
But a clear, composed female voice suddenly sounded from beyond the courtyard gate, interrupting her reverie.
“I heard noble guests have arrived at the mansion. Yiwei has come specially to pay her respects. I hope I am not disturbing your peace?”
Feng Anlan turned and saw a young woman in a pale blue ruqun standing at the doorway.
Her figure was graceful and tall, her features picturesque, her aura calm yet carrying the pure fragrance of books.
A perfectly measured faint smile curved her lips, but her gaze was clear as a mirror, unobtrusively sweeping over Feng Anlan’s face and bearing.
Nanny Su had already stepped forward half a pace, subtly positioning herself as a guard.
Master Zhang hurriedly introduced from the side.
“This is my eldest daughter, Yiwei. She is fond of poetry and books in ordinary days and lacks proper etiquette. I hope the young miss will not take offense.”
“Miss Zhang is too polite.”
Feng Anlan inclined her head slightly, assuming the poise befitting royalty, though a faint wariness instinctively rose in her heart.
This woman’s gaze was unlike any of the boudoir ladies or talented women she had met.
Behind that gentle smile hid a sharpness capable of seeing through a person in a single glance.
Zhang Yiwei stepped leisurely into the small courtyard.
Her eyes paused briefly on Feng Anlan’s travel-worn, bloodstained yet undeniably luxurious clothing, then her smile deepened slightly—as if she understood, as if she were weighing something.
“The young miss has traveled far and must be weary from the journey. Though Huaniang Town is small, it has a few local specialties that are passable. Later, I’ll have the servants send some honey wine and snacks—perhaps they can ease a little of the travel’s tedium.”
Her voice was gentle, her words considerate, yet each seemed to carry hidden meaning.
“If there is anything you need in these few days, or if you wish to hear some local tales and anecdotes, feel free to instruct Yiwei.”
Feng Anlan met her gaze.
The string in her heart—which had remained taut since leaving the capital—quietly tightened another notch.
She vaguely sensed that this seemingly refined eldest daughter of the Zhang family was far from simple, and this brief respite would likely not be as calm as it appeared.
“Then I shall thank Miss Zhang in advance.”
Feng Anlan smiled in response, her demeanor flawless.
Zhang Yiwei returned a curtsy with a smile, exchanged a few more idle words, then took her leave gracefully.
Before departing, she seemed to glance back at Feng Anlan almost casually.
That glance was calm on the surface, yet dark currents surged beneath.
Both women knew—this was merely the prelude.
The sun sank completely beyond the western mountains, dusk enveloping the courtyard.
Feng Anlan stood alone by the window, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the sill.
She knew that this small town, this chance encounter, might disturb her future destiny far more profoundly than she had imagined.
And their meeting—this was only the first.