Volume One: Flames on the Border Chapter Seventy-Five: Lies Told with Open Eyes

Hearing these words, Qingyun’s heart gave a jolt. “What does she mean?” A sudden, intense anxiety struck her, urging her to pull He Yu away at once.

Princess Tuoba Yan of Great Wei, exalted as the Imperial Princess, had always referred to herself formally as “This Palace.” Now, however, she called herself “Yanyan,” which Qingyun found decidedly unusual.

He Yu was also taken aback, exclaiming in surprise, “Your Highness’s childhood name is Yanyan.” In truth, it was a redundant remark—Tuoba Yan bore the compound surname Tuoba and the given name Yan, so naturally her childhood name was Yanyan.

Tuoba Yan chuckled, a light and tinkling sound, and produced a short sword from her sleeve, handing it to He Yu. “My name is Tuoba Yan, so of course my childhood name is Yanyan. This short sword now returns to its rightful owner; I ask the Sect Master to keep it well.”

He Yu received the sword, noticing the seal script “Yan” engraved on its hilt. He couldn’t help but laugh, “I should have guessed it sooner. This short sword is so ornate, the hilt bears a ‘Yan,’ and Your Highness is so beautiful—I should have deduced you were the Imperial Princess of Great Wei.”

Tuoba Yan giggled again, her gaze lingering on He Yu, scrutinizing him with a smile. “Sect Master He, you are truly eloquent. In your opinion, is Lady Chen more beautiful, or is Yanyan prettier?”

Even before Tuoba Yan finished speaking, He Yu had already guessed her intention. Since crossing into this world, he’d found that fortune with women was a recurring theme—one wave had barely subsided before another began. Men are often proud of their talents, women of their beauty. “Who is prettier, me or so-and-so?”—such conundrums he’d faced several times already. First there was Deng’er, then Qingyun, later Murong Shanshan, and now Tuoba Yan. Who knew if others would arise? Handsome in appearance and gifted in both literature and martial arts, he was, in those times, a man admired by all.

Tuoba Yan, as a princess of Great Wei, was accustomed to others flattering her, never the reverse. Though she meant no disrespect, her manner unconsciously overlooked Qingyun. To ask her husband about her own beauty in front of his wife was improper, even quite rude. Yet Tuoba Yan was a Xianbei maiden, unfamiliar with Han family etiquette, her heart secretly enamored with He Yu, so she asked without much thought.

The question was easy, but the answer was difficult. “If I say Qingyun is beautiful, I offend Tuoba Yan and contradict the truth. If I say Tuoba Yan is beautiful, I offend Qingyun. The only way is to reply vaguely, saying both are beautiful.”

“In my view, Your Highness and my wife are equally beautiful,” He Yu forced himself to say. Women are women—even princesses are no exception. In the midst of war, they still have time for matters of beauty and rivalry.

Tuoba Yan laughed again, “Sect Master He is truly skilled with words, offending neither side. Yanyan would ask one more thing: once the affairs in Pingcheng are settled, where do you plan to make your home? The Chen family stronghold is no more.”

He Yu felt Tuoba Yan harbored a fondness for him reminiscent of Qingyun’s last year; indecision breeds chaos, so he answered honestly, “If not for vengeance and Your Highness’s invitation, I would have gone south to Jiangnan with my wife long ago.”

“Oh, to Jiangnan. Hmm, now I recall, Sect Master He is from Nansha County in Jinling. So you plan to return home. In that case, it will be hard for us to meet again.” She remembered meeting He Yu half a year ago, then just a horse thief returning lost gold, now a refined young man with a beautiful confidante at his side. Truly, the world is unpredictable. Jiangnan and the northern frontier are separated by a thousand miles and hostile lands; once He Yu went south, there would be no chance to meet again.

She held great power; countless people came and went before her daily, yet none lingered in her heart. Only this elegant youth stirred a rare reluctance to part. Thinking she might never see He Yu again in this life, Tuoba Yan’s smile faded, replaced by a vexed expression. With a sigh, she said, “Sect Master He may not know, but Yanyan’s original plan was, after the affairs in Pingcheng were settled, to invite you to meet my brother. With your extraordinary talent, could you truly bear to be buried in Jiangnan, never aspiring to be a Zhuge Liang or Wang Jinglu?”

Tuoba Yan’s bright eyes fixed on He Yu, as if hoping for an affirmative answer.

Qingyun interjected, “Your Highness may not know, but He Lang already discussed it with me just now. The battle at Pingcheng has dealt a heavy blow to the Yan traitors, and my husband and I have finally vented our anger. As for whether Murong Lin and Murong Shao live or die, that is up to fate. He Lang has been away from home for long, and misses his homeland. As his wife, I must also pay respects at the aunt’s tomb. Your Highness’s kindness can only be declined.”

She was now certain beyond doubt—Tuoba Yan had fallen for her He Lang, just as she herself had done half a year ago. Her present situation was like Deng’er’s then. Deng’er, gentle and kind, was her childhood maid and had willingly yielded He Lang. Tuoba Yan’s beauty and status were far beyond hers, and she had no intention of yielding so easily.

Tuoba Yan did not regard Qingyun, and hearing her curt words, felt displeased but, constrained by decorum, said nothing further, exchanged a few pleasantries, and departed.

There was no battle that day, so lunch was not taken in the main tent. In He Yu’s opinion, during war, all officers and soldiers should eat and live together, to foster teamwork and unity. But Pingcheng was on the defensive, and the city was well-provisioned. Cui Liang, Lu Yi, and others were used to comfort and privilege at home, and would avoid communal meals if possible. Thus, He Yu and Qingyun returned to their own courtyard for lunch.

Qingyun walked ahead in silence, anger evident in her brisk steps, moving faster and faster. He Yu, understanding the situation, hurried to catch up, took her hand, and said, “Let me guess, just now you were fine—are you happy or angry now?”

Qingyun, unlike Deng’er who sometimes sulked and denied her feelings, was straightforward. If she was upset, she would say so. “Of course I’m angry. Tuoba Yan was outrageous, saying such nonsense to you right in front of me, as if I didn’t exist.”

He Yu secretly laughed, “Debts of June must be paid swiftly—half a year ago, weren’t you just the same?” Though he thought this, he dared not say it aloud. “So that’s why you’re angry. Let’s not bother with her—she’s a Xianbei princess, I’m a Han man, I wouldn’t go to see Tuoba Gui unless you forced me to take office in Great Wei, and not just any office, but a high one.”

Qingyun was forthright; hearing this, she felt relieved, stopped in her tracks, and said, “Pah! What’s so great about Tuoba Gui? Why would I force you to take office? I’m worried Tuoba Yan is interested in you and wants to steal you from me. She’s a princess, and so beautiful… I… I…” Her voice faltered.

When competing with Deng’er for He Yu, Qingyun had several advantages: Deng’er was her maid, giving her psychological superiority; her own beauty was equal to Deng’er’s; and she hailed from the illustrious Chen clan of Yingchuan, with significant family wealth. These three factors emboldened her pursuit, shameless and relentless. What happened later was beyond anyone’s expectation.

He Yu knew Qingyun well, so by mentioning his concern that she might force him to seek office from Tuoba Gui, he used defense as offense, deftly shifting the focus and turning passive into active.

Hearing Qingyun’s explanation, He Yu smiled inwardly, “Such a straightforward, silly girl. Tuoba Gui is nothing; why would I want office? It’s just that Tuoba Yan is so beautiful she intimidated Qingyun, making her feel insecure, hence her unhappiness.”

He Yu, a traveler from another world, now held only Qingyun as his true beloved. He did not want her overshadowed by Tuoba Yan’s beauty, so he planned to console her, an idea forming in his mind.

“Wife, there’s something I don’t understand—I’d like your opinion.”

“Mm, please speak, He Lang.” Qingyun was still disheartened, puzzled what her clever husband could not grasp. If he was baffled, she likely would be as well.

He Yu feigned confusion, “They say Tuoba Yan is one of the ‘Twin Jewels of Xianbei.’ From a woman’s perspective, what do you think of her looks?”

Qingyun thought for a moment, somewhat dejected, “In the south is Shanshan, gentle and fragrant; in the north is Yanyan, brilliant and radiant—her reputation is well deserved. In my life, I’ve never seen a woman so beautiful. As far as I can tell, only that Murong Shanshan could rival her.”

Mentioning Murong Shanshan made He Yu’s heart stir again. He mused, “Murong Shanshan’s beauty is not quite the same as Tuoba Yan’s, incomparable in fact. But if there’s anyone who could match Tuoba Yan’s beauty, it would be Murong Shanshan. Deng’er and Qingyun possess a stunning, worldly beauty. Murong Shanshan and Tuoba Yan have an unattainable, despair-inducing beauty.”

He Yu shook off his thoughts and, feigning surprise, said, “Strange—I don’t find Tuoba Yan especially beautiful. Her hair isn’t as black as yours, her eyes are blue and odd-looking. Seems the Xianbei idea of beauty differs from us Han folk. I’d much rather appreciate your kind of beauty; Tuoba Yan’s just doesn’t appeal to me.”

“What?” Qingyun was astonished, her eyes round with surprise. “He Lang actually says Tuoba Yan isn’t so pretty—could it truly be that tastes differ? Yes, He Lang grew up in Jiangnan, seldom saw northern women, so perhaps he doesn’t appreciate it. But that’s good—no matter how beautiful Tuoba Yan is, she won’t catch He Lang’s eye, which is a relief.”

She was bold and passionately in love with He Yu, never suspecting he would play tricks. For her, if He Yu claimed the sun rose in the west, she might believe it.

If he couldn’t appreciate Tuoba Yan’s beauty, then, however lovely she was, it had nothing to do with Qingyun. Her heart blossomed instantly, and a smile lit up her face, revealing her adorable dimples. Unlike Deng’er, Qingyun, once her worries were resolved, rarely looked back.

He Yu silently recited, “By the gods above, your disciple He Yu uttered a harmless lie to bring joy to his wife—necessity forced my hand. Please, don’t hold it against me.”

Hand in hand, Qingyun and He Yu cheerfully returned to their courtyard, about to instruct the servants to serve lunch, when a young attendant hurried in to report: “Master Yuan Hui of the Yuan clan invites you both to his residence for a meeting.”