Shen Jinglan · Conversa

Since the founding of the Li Dynasty, there had never been a banquet like this. Most of the plaza outside the Hall of Supreme Harmony had been cleared. The archery range stretched from the front of the hall all the way to the base of the palace wall. Red-lacquered wooden targets stood a hundred paces away; whenever the wind blew, the red cloth at the bullseye fluttered softly. The Tatar delegation sat on the east side, their leather robes embroidered with steppe patterns and scimitars hanging at their waists. Their voices were coarse, and their laughter even coarser. On the west side sat the court officials of the Li Dynasty in brocade robes and jade belts, holding tea cups, yet their gazes kept drifting toward the center of the field. Li Mingzhu stood right in the center of the archery range. Just moments ago, Li Mingzhu and Batu reached an agreement to compete in archery: if Li Mingzhu won, Batu would cede three Tatar cities; if Batu won—the princess would be married off for political alliance. Li Mingzhu was fourteen years old this year, the first child born to the current emperor back when he was still the Fourth Prince. According to the Li Dynasty genealogy, the princes and princesses of this generation should have had "Cheng" in their names, yet as the Eldest Princess, her name carried the character "Ming", shared with the emperor Li Mingyu's own generation. Her level of favor was easy to imagine. Not to mention, her birth mother was the legendary Noble Consort Jiang. Li Mingzhu wore a pomegranate-red archery outfit, her hair bun secured with a gold hairpin and adorned with two velvet flowers by her temples. She took the bow offered by a handmaiden, weighed it in her hand, deemed it too light, and swapped it for another. The son of the Tatar Khan—a young man named Batu—sat opposite her, spinning a wine cup in his hand, a lazy look in his eyes and a trace of disdain hovering at the corner of his lips. "Princess," he spoke in broken Han Chinese, "three cities are no small matter." Li Mingzhu didn't look at him. She nocked an arrow, drew the string, and released. The sound of cutting through the air was extremely brief. The arrow flew wide—it turned into a match where the princess was bound to lose without even needing to finish. The hall fell silent for a moment, followed immediately by an uproar. Li Mingyu sat up high. A cup of tea rested on the low table beside the dragon throne; he didn't move. He merely stared at that pomegranate-red figure in the middle of the field. Something flickered in his eyes, but it was quickly suppressed. The attendant beside him bowed low, not daring to draw a heavy breath. He said nothing, yet his presence subdued the noise across the entire hall. Three days after the banquet ended, the imperial edict arrived. You sat in your room, remembering how at the banquet a few days ago you had been rejoicing that it wasn't you who lost face. And yet now— The imperial edict lay spread on the desk, bright yellow silk with words written in cinnabar. Every single character was crystal clear, and every single character felt like a nail driven into wood. "Let this commoner girl change her name to Li Mingzhu and go to the Tatars in place of the Eldest Princess for a peace marriage"—you lost count of how many times you read this sentence aloud. Eventually, even the word "commoner girl" began to feel alien. You were no commoner girl without ties; you had parents, a home, and a name of your own. But none of that mattered now. What mattered was that you had to change your name, assume someone else's identity, and marry a man from the steppes whose face you hadn't even clearly seen. Outside the door, the handmaiden said that officials from the Ministry of Rites had arrived to take your measurements. You didn't move. You sat there, fingers pressed against the edge of the imperial edict, your fingertips turning white from the force. Outside the window, the locust tree leaves rustled in the wind, making a loud swishing sound as if laughing at you. You suddenly remembered the banquet three days ago, remembering the thought that flashed through your mind when Li Mingzhu's arrow missed—Thank goodness it isn't me. Now, it's you. You stood up, pushing the imperial edict aside. The bright yellow silk slid across the desk before stopping. You walked to the door and pushed it open; the handmaiden startled, taking half a step back. "Miss, you..." "I'm going out for a moment," you said. Your voice was calmer than you imagined, but you knew it wasn't calmness—it was suppressed fury. You walked out of the courtyard with swift steps, so fast that the handmaiden couldn't catch up. You didn't know where you were going, but you knew who you needed to find. Shen Jinglan. This idea came from him. It had to be him. You had made inquiries around the capital and knew where the General's Manor was located. You didn't take a sedan chair, nor did you let anyone follow you; you simply walked all the way there. People stared at you along the street, but you ignored them. Only one thought occupied your mind—you were going to ask him: By what right? Why me? o(▼皿▼メ;) The entrance of the General's Manor was lofty, with two guards standing at the gate in military uniform, swords hanging at their waists. As you reached the door, the guards stopped you. "Miss, the General's Manor is not a place anyone can just enter." "I'm looking for General Shen," you said. "Tell him someone wants to see him." The guard glanced at you, likely sensing that you were not to be crossed, and turned to go inside to report. You stood outside the gate, hands clenched into fists, fingernails digging into your palms, yet you felt no pain. After a moment, the guard came out and said, "The General says you may enter." You followed him into the manor. The courtyard was large, with simple decor and no superfluous ornamentations. As you walked and looked around, the fire inside you burned hotter and hotter. You reached the door of the study; the guard stopped and said, "The General is inside." You pushed open the door. Shen Jinglan sat behind the desk holding a military report. Hearing the door, he raised his head. Seeing you, he paused, then set down the report and stood up. "Miss," he said, his voice gentle, as if simply greeting you. You walked in and closed the door. "It was you," you said. "It was your idea to have me take Li Mingzhu's place for the peace marriage." Shen Jinglan neither denied nor explained. He merely looked at you with a calm expression, as though he had expected you all along. "It was me," he said. Hearing those two words and seeing him standing there like a dead fish, anger flared uncontrollably inside you—this man truly possessed no sense of shame. The fire in your chest surged straight to your throat. You walked up to the desk, leaned your hands against it, and glared at him. "By what right?" you asked. "Why me? Just because I look like Li Mingzhu, I'm supposed to go die in her place?" Shen Jinglan did not step back, nor did he avoid your gaze. He stood there straight and poised, yet without an air of arrogance. "Because you look like her," he said. "And because you are the most suitable candidate." "Most suitable?" You laughed, but there was no warmth in your laughter. "Do you even know who I am? Do you know I have parents, a home? By what right do you make decisions for me?" Shen Jinglan remained silent for a moment before speaking: "I know." "You know?" Your voice raised. "You knew, and you still did it?" "Because it is the best way," he said, his tone still calm. "Li Mingzhu is the Eldest Princess, the Emperor's daughter. She cannot go. You can."