Volume One: Flames at the Border Chapter Sixty: Tuoba Yan

At this moment, the first light of dawn was breaking. The two leaned against a stone, gazing eastward at the rising sun, exchanged a glance, and smiled. Both felt the joy of surviving calamity.

They had never considered how beautiful life could be, but after last night's fierce struggle, they grasped a simple truth: a hard life is better than a good death.

He Yu found himself both laughing and crying. He had intended merely to avoid the Later Yan army, yet in these remote mountains and dense forests, not only did he encounter a ferocious tiger, but also a man-eating bird unknown to anyone—truly a marvel among marvels. He racked his brains for an explanation and concluded that this feathered beast resembled the divine condor from Jin Yong’s martial arts tales. But Du Gu Qiubai was a fictional character, and Jin Yong’s inventions should not be taken as truth.

Resting against the stone, the two ate some dry rations, regaining a bit of strength. Traveling through the mountains was perilous, but since they had already circumnavigated Yanmen Gate, He Yu decided to follow the main road and no longer rush so desperately.

Sharing a single horse, they traveled for half a day until a tavern appeared in the distance. After asking the innkeeper, they learned it was still two days’ journey to Pingcheng. Worn out from days of travel, they decided to rest at the tavern. With hot food and a bath, much of their fatigue melted away.

Traveling light, they hadn’t brought much luggage. Their clothes were torn in several places from their battle with the monstrous tiger and bird. At dusk, Chen Qingyun borrowed needle and thread from the innkeeper to mend their garments. The dim lamplight enveloped her, stirring something in He Yu’s heart; he suddenly thought of Deng’er.

Chen Qingyun’s sewing skills were modest, and after much effort, she finished the repairs with some embarrassment: “He Lang, I haven’t done much of this before. You’ll have to make do with these.” He Yu smiled, taking the clothes, and upon inspection, saw the stitching was fairly neat. He encouraged her: “It’s already very good. My lady, you are of noble birth; to do this for me fills me with gratitude.”

After days of journeying together—crossing mountains and valleys, and especially surviving last night’s ordeal—their hearts had drawn much closer.

After a night's rest, they set out again early the next morning. Two more days passed, and at dusk, the vast cityscape of Pingcheng came into view.

He Yu knew that Pingcheng was historically the capital of Northern Wei, once one of the world’s most prosperous cities. However, Northern Wei had not yet unified the north; its capital remained at Shengle.

Rumor had it that King Tuoba Gui intended to move the capital to Pingcheng, but the old aristocracy staunchly opposed him. Unable to prevail, Tuoba Gui dispatched his trusted elder sister, Princess Tuoba Yan, to Pingcheng—both to oversee the construction of palace and city walls, and to contain the Later Yan armies.

Pingcheng was divided from south to north into three sections: the outer city, the intermediate city, and the inner city. The princess’s residence was within the inner city, and given these extraordinary times, it was likely the gates had already been locked for the night.

He Yu and Chen Qingyun, weary from travel, decided not to rush and found a guesthouse outside the outer city to rest for the night, planning to visit Tuoba Yan in the morning. They settled into a quiet inn. With war imminent, few people remained in the outer city, many shops had closed, and patrols of soldiers marched down the streets in regular intervals.

The night passed without incident. Early next morning, carrying their letters, the two rode their white steed through the outer city toward the princess’s residence.

He Yu possessed a letter sealed with the official stamp of the princess’s residence, so the soldiers at the gate merely questioned them briefly before granting passage.

Riding, He Yu took note of the roads and surroundings. Pingcheng was still under construction, but already impressive in scale. Tuoba Gui’s intention to move the capital here meant vast numbers of war captives and slaves—said to number a hundred thousand—had been conscripted for labor. With war looming, this workforce now fortified the city walls, and the outer city pulsed with anticipation; few ordinary citizens were seen.

The Tuoba and Murong clans belonged to different Xianbei tribes, yet their people looked much alike—tall and long-limbed, fair-skinned, with generally handsome features. The Tuoba clan, however, customarily braided their hair into small plaits, earning them the derisive nickname “Cord Barbarians.”

Princess’s residence stood at the northernmost part of the inner city, its grand gates guarded by two stone lions, imposing and majestic. Though Tuoba Yan was Tuoba Gui’s elder sister, they were twins and thus twenty-four years old. For reasons unknown, Tuoba Yan remained unmarried, still awaiting her match.

By now, the Xianbei had already adopted much of Han culture; the city’s buildings and palaces were little different from those of the Central Plains. Han and Hu people lived together in relative harmony.

He Yu pondered, “Soon, I’ll meet Tuoba Yan in person. I wonder if she’s the same stunning woman I encountered at the horse market half a year ago?” The answer was about to be revealed, and he felt a flutter of excitement.

Arriving at the princess’s residence, the two dismounted, presented their credentials, and a servant departed to report. Soon the gates opened, and a group emerged; among them, one woman stood out for her peerless beauty and heroic bearing—it was indeed the lady from the horse market six months before.

“Ah, such beauty exists in this world!” Chen Qingyun marveled inwardly.

“Heh, it is indeed Tuoba Yan,” He Yu thought with feeling.

They stepped forward and saluted.

“Chen Qingyun of Chen Family Fortress greets Your Highness.”

“He Yu of Lianyun Stronghold greets Your Highness.”

They had already agreed to represent their respective clans in alliance negotiations.

Tuoba Yan, clad in a vivid red cloak, bowed slightly: “Master He, Lady Chen, please dispense with formalities. From now on, we are family. Too much courtesy would be an affront.” Her laughter was bright, her gaze spirited, her presence even more commanding than when first glimpsed at the horse market.

Last time had been a fleeting encounter; now, face to face, He Yu could see clearly. Though Tuoba Yan claimed twenty-four years, she looked no older than twenty, her skin as clear as snow, features exquisitely drawn, eyes and nose assembled by the most beautiful standards, yet harmonious—a flawless beauty with no angle wanting.

Tuoba Yan now saw He Yu distinctly, a trace of surprise flickering across her face. Her mouth opened, but she said nothing.

Half a year ago, He Yu had been a destitute horse thief, his clothes ragged, his hair cropped short. Now, well-dressed and a clan leader, his bearing and speech were changed. Though Tuoba Yan managed all affairs in Pingcheng and met countless people, she found He Yu familiar—like someone she’d seen somewhere—but dared not ask, lest she make a fool of herself.

He Yu smiled, drew a short sword from his breast, and handed it to Tuoba Yan: “Does Your Highness recognize this?”

Tuoba Yan took the sword, and upon seeing it, burst into laughter: “Forgive my dull eyes—I have met you before, Master He. Why didn’t you show me this sword earlier? I could have welcomed you sooner…” She sized him up, noting his handsome and noble demeanor, faintly reminiscent of the youth who sold horses six months ago.

The attendants were surprised that the princess knew He Yu. A slim elder stepped forward and saluted: “Greetings, Master Chen. You fought valiantly at Xiemaling and broke through Tianxiong Fortress by night—a true young hero!”

He Yu recognized him as the elder who had gifted him silver at the horse market and returned the salute: “So it is Secretary Linghu. Chen Family Fortress has suffered defeat; your praise is too generous.”

Tuoba Yan welcomed He Yu and Chen Qingyun into the residence but soon departed to attend to other affairs. Their accommodations were arranged by Secretary Linghu.

Linghu’s full name was Linghu Xiao—a shrewd and capable man. Though Xianbei, he often dressed as a Han scholar, setting himself apart from others.

The princess’s residence was vast, with winding paths and a grand courtyard called the Hall of Worthies, intended to attract talents from all corners.

The fortress lords along the Yan-Wei border shifted allegiance according to their interests, supporting Later Yan one day, Northern Wei the next. Northern Wei was just beginning to rise and remained weaker than Later Yan. Thus, Tuoba Yan had sent dozens of alliance invitations, but fewer than ten had replied, and only eight had pledged to resist Yan, including Chen Family Fortress and Lianyun Stronghold. All eight bore bitter enmity toward Later Yan.

He Yu and Chen Qingyun were assigned a small courtyard on the west side of the Hall of Worthies, well-provided and peaceful.

Once settled, it was nearly noon, and a lavish meal was delivered. After lunch, Linghu Xiao himself came to pay his respects and brought gifts from Tuoba Yan—fine silks and much gold and silver, all of considerable value.

After Linghu Xiao departed, He Yu looked at the treasures and laughed: “Tuoba Yan is truly a princess of Wei—money is no object to her.”

Chen Qingyun remained silent, recalling her elder brother’s death, the destruction of Chen Family Fortress, and how her own situation seemed to worsen daily. Her beauty, once a source of pride, paled beside Tuoba Yan’s. The princess was aristocratic, while she herself was now a homeless, ordinary woman. Moreover, her husband had known Tuoba Yan long ago and still carried her token, yet had never mentioned it.

Her straightforward nature made it hard to hide feelings; seeing He Yu so pleased with the gifts, her heart sank and her face clouded. Chen Qingyun was not typically sentimental, but meeting He Yu had stirred her heart.

He Yu noticed her gloomy expression, recalling Deng’er’s disappointment upon first meeting Murong Shanshan, and silently berated himself for his thoughtlessness: “Love is always selfish—how could I praise another woman before my wife?”

With a quick turn of thought, he changed his approach, took Chen Qingyun’s hand, and gently kissed it: “Are you angry, my dear? If so, you can hit me twice.”

Seeing him act silly, Chen Qingyun burst into laughter, let him hold her hand, and pouted: “He Lang, why did you deceive me? You clearly knew Tuoba Yan—why didn’t you tell me? Do you not trust me?”

“Injustice, injustice!”

He Yu stuck out his tongue in jest: “My dear, you always imagine things. Tuoba Yan and I have nothing between us. My heart belonged to Deng’er before, and now it belongs only to you. Don’t wrong me. If you’re angry, I’ll call you elder sister, will that do?” With that, he recounted his acquaintance with Tuoba Yan.

Chen Qingyun understood at last. Seeing He Yu swear earnest oaths, her heart stirred. She spat: “Who wants you to call me elder sister? You’re so ridiculous, He Lang.”

She then rolled her eyes and asked: “They say Tuoba Yan and Murong Shanshan are called the Twin Beauties of Xianbei. You’ve met them both. Tell me—which one is more beautiful?”