Chapter Sixty-Nine: Setting Out for the Capital

Dawn had broken, yet Zhan Yan was still deep in slumber. Zhongli Yu sat there gazing at her intently. It seemed he had truly exhausted her the night before; it was nearly midday and she had yet to awaken. Seeing how deeply she slept, he refrained from disturbing her. Now that everything was settled—the war was over, and he had already sent word to the Emperor requesting Zhong Yi Jin remain to oversee the restoration of Wangcheng—he only needed to give a few brief instructions before returning to the capital. The pear trees in Lixiang Court must be ripe by now, he mused; soon he and Yan’er could pick pears together. A faint smile tugged at his lips. At last, after all these years, his wish was fulfilled.

When Zhan Yan finally opened her eyes, she found Zhongli Yu watching her with gentle affection, just as he did every morning. He always woke before her, always looked at her this way, as if he could never tire of it. She glanced at the light outside and started in surprise—it was already midday. How had she slept so long? Remembering the night’s passionate entanglement, her cheeks flushed. She shot him a reproachful look. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

Zhongli Yu chuckled softly, his voice full of fondness. “Yan’er was exhausted. You needed your rest.”

Her face reddened even more. “And whose fault is that? You have no self-restraint.”

He gave a helpless sigh. “It’s true, I have no restraint. When it comes to you, Yan’er, I simply can’t control myself. What am I to do?” He wore an expression of exaggerated grievance, as though he were truly powerless.

Zhan Yan was long accustomed to his shamelessness, and in truth, she didn’t mind it at all. “Come on, get up. It’s almost time for us to return to the capital, isn’t it? Did you tell His Majesty about my father? Did he agree to let Father come back with us?”

He nodded. “Yes, I spoke to the Emperor. I requested that your father return with us, and His Majesty agreed.”

“That’s good. The Emperor won’t blame my father, will he?”

“Of course not. How could this matter be blamed on your father? He, too, was a victim. When he returns, he will still be the Prince of the South.”

“That’s all that matters. I don’t care about the title—so long as Father can live in peace.”

“The Emperor values talent. He won’t let your father sit idle.”

“I’d really like him to live with us,” Zhan Yan sighed, her thoughts drifting to the Prince of the South’s residence. Wang Xueru was, after all, Yan Kuan’s wife, and the other children in that household were all Yan Kuan’s. Now that Yan Kuan was dead, they must have left. “But I suppose he wouldn’t be willing. We’ll just have to visit him often.”

Zhongli Yu offered quiet comfort. “I don’t think he’d want to move in. We can visit frequently.” The thought of Zhan Tianyi’s future loneliness made him feel a touch of sorrow as well.

“Yes, we’ll visit him often.” Zhan Yan nodded. That was all they could do. Her father would never agree to live at the royal residence; he had his own manor. Perhaps, she thought privately, it was time to find him a companion.

After breakfast, Meng Tao came to see Zhan Yan. He said he was used to wandering and wouldn’t travel with them back to the capital. Once Zhan Yan was settled in the city, he would come find her to teach her medicine. Though reluctant to part, Zhan Yan didn’t try to insist he stay. She simply let him go. Knowing they’d meet again soon, she forced aside her reluctance and ordered their belongings packed. They had been away long enough; it was time to return.

The day of their departure arrived. The people of Wangcheng, having heard the news, gathered en masse to see them off. They waited at the city gates from early morning, standing in silent anticipation. When Zhongli Yu appeared with his vast army, the crowd knelt in unison, bowing their heads and calling out in unison, “Greetings to the Prince!” Their arms were laden with gifts—eggs, vegetables, fruit—all meant for the Prince and Princess. Zhongli Yu and Zhan Yan tried to decline, but the people, steadfast and grateful, would not be denied. In the end, they accepted the offerings. Though these were humble items, such was the people’s gratitude that Zhan Yan ordered two carriages loaded with the gifts. Soon, the wagons were overflowing. Seeing how carefully Zhan Yan treated their presents, as though they were treasures, the people were delighted, their affection for their beautiful princess deepening further.

Among their party was Zhong Yi Lan; as for Zhong Yi Jin, he had truly been left behind by Zhongli Yu. The reason given to the Emperor was that Prince Jin possessed great talent and would greatly benefit from such experience, eventually becoming a pillar of the nation. The Emperor, eager for his son’s advancement, readily agreed to Zhongli Yu’s suggestion and left Prince Jin in Wangcheng.

When they set out, the city’s commanding officer and Zhong Yi Jin came to see them off. Zhong Yi Jin said to Zhongli Yu, “Thank you, Prince Chun, for speaking on my behalf to Father and allowing me to stay and gain experience. Please tell His Majesty I won’t disappoint him.”

Zhan Yan’s mouth twitched at this. What was this, if not someone cheerfully counting money for the person who’d just sold him? Her husband was truly cunning; just because Prince Jin had cast a few too many glances at her, he’d arranged for him to stay behind in Wangcheng, all under perfectly legitimate pretenses.

Zhan Yan had brought little with her on her journey—she had come in haste, traveling day and night. Now, returning, they were laden with gifts from the people, enough to fill two carriages. It made their convoy seem particularly well-supplied. Zhan Yan thought to herself that perhaps they should share the bounty with the soldiers along the way; it wouldn’t do to arrive in the capital looking as if they were moving house rather than returning from war.

This time, Zhan Yan opted not to ride on horseback. They were returning triumphant, there was no need to hurry, and the sun was still fierce, as autumn had yet to arrive. Happily, she took shelter from the heat inside her carriage. Her maidservants—Qingyun and the others—were women and it would not do to have them riding horses through the army, so they too nestled together in a carriage behind Zhan Yan’s.

Once outside the city gates, Zhongli Yu dismounted and climbed straight into Zhan Yan’s carriage. Seeing him enter, she laughed. “You, the commander of the imperial troops, hiding in a carriage instead of riding—what must people think?”

Zhongli Yu was unconcerned. “I’m tired. I don’t have the energy to ride. I want to sit in the carriage—who will dare say otherwise?”

Zhan Yan rolled her eyes. As if that were a real excuse—he was strong as an ox and skilled in martial arts; riding could hardly tire him.

She scolded with a laugh, “Shameless.”

Zhongli Yu cared nothing for her teasing. He simply pulled her into his arms, settling her against his chest, then leaned back against the carriage wall and closed his eyes. He murmured, “I just like being with you, Yan’er.”

Zhan Yan heard him clearly. She knew he only wanted to keep her company and keep her from feeling bored. Her heart warmed at the thought. Leaning gently against him, she closed her eyes as well.

Outside, the rhythmic clatter of hooves and the steady march of soldiers muffled the rumbling of the carriage wheels. It was as if all the world’s noise had faded away. In that quiet moment, they slept peacefully, hearts finally at ease. With the war over, happiness was at last within reach.