Thousand Miles of Bright Moonlight - Chapter 157.2

That day, snow fell thick and fast, the wind howled bitterly. Yaoying, accompanied by her guards, arrived at a marketplace and entered a small shop that sold grape wine, ascending to a private room on the second floor.

Qi Nian and two Han men waited outside the door. He whispered, “Your Highness, everything is arranged. The Zhao, Zhang, Wang, and Yang families will all send someone today.”

Yaoying gave a small nod.

Yuanjue, walking closely behind her, asked curiously, “Why is Your Highness receiving guests in a place like this?”

He had been acting as Yaoying’s escort the past few days and was aware that she had been trying to reach out to the aristocratic clans of Gaochang. Most were descendants of the great families from Hexi and Helong, loyal in heart to their old homeland.

Yaoying replied, “I don’t know if they can be fully trusted. Meeting here is safer. If anything goes wrong, we can leave at once.”

Yuanjue nodded. Indeed, the Princess had thought things through. Since Alanruo was from the Royal Court, it would be better to not reveal them.

Shortly after their arrival, three maids entered carrying ornate boxes, followed by several young men from the merchant caravan hauling trunks. When the trunks were opened, the room filled with a gleaming brilliance, treasures glinting in all directions.

Yuanjue blinked in astonishment, weren’t these the jewels the Princess had bought a few days ago?

Yaoying gestured for him to wait by the screen as she entered the inner chamber.

Yuanjue did not dare glance in. He stood still, hands folded, while inside came the soft rustle of clothing, the clinking of jewels and hairpins as they were brought inside one by one. The maids moved swiftly in and out.

He waited a full hour. His legs were sore, his back ached, and his head was pounding. Finally, he heard Yaoying summon him inside. Instantly alert, he straightened and turned past the screen, only to freeze in place.

The room was swept spotless, its beaded curtains swaying gently. The floor was spread with an exquisite felt mat adorned with capricorn motifs, while a jeweled divan, seating cushions, and a gilded screen inscribed with poetry stood nearby. Before the couch, several gilt incense burners shaped like lions released delicate swirls of fragrant smoke, filling the chamber with a serene, perfumed air.

A woman sat poised before the divan, her powdered face and vermilion lips meticulously adorned, a pair of dimples gracing her cheeks, and an emerald floral ornament gleaming at her forehead. Her hair was swept into towering clouds of intricate coils, studded with gold-and-jade hairpins, while a peony bloom—as large as a teacup, its layers of petals trembling faintly—nestled against her temple. The flower’s hue hovered between blush and ivory, neither wholly red nor white. She wore a narrow-sleeved, fish-roe-patterned silk short jacket, over which draped a half-sleeved robe of dragon gauze woven with red blossoms and green leaves. Beneath this, a twelve-paneled crimson skirt of damask silk flowed, its subtle embroidery catching the light. A painted shawl of birds and flowers, traced in gold and silver mud, cascaded from her shoulders. Every inch of her radiated opulence and breathtaking allure.

She was resplendent, so much so that one dared not stare directly.

A shaft of pale daylight fell through the window lattices, landing upon the peony at her temple. Where that flower had come from, one could not tell, but dewdrops seemed to glisten upon its petals, highlighting the inky blackness of her hair, the elegance of her brow and gaze.

With a smile, she cast a glance at Yuanjue, her eyes shimmering like liquid light, as if all the radiance in the room had pooled into her gaze. For a fleeting moment, this was no longer the Gaochang royal city, deep in the desert, but Chang’an, thousands of miles away, where “the celestial gates opened to palaces, and envoys of ten thousand nations bowed before the imperial crown.“

Yuanjue gaped at Li Yaoying, his jaw slack.

Yaoying gave him a playful wink. The faint blush at the corners of her eyes, drawn with rouge, lent her a maturity beyond her usual demeanor. Every gesture exuded a luminous charm.

“Did I startle you?” she asked, laughing.

Yuanjue nearly forgot to breathe. He nodded stiffly, chanting silently in his mind, Amitabha, Amitabha. Thank heavens the Regent Prince hadn’t come today. General Ashina had been right, Princess Wenzhao was far too dangerous!

Decked in gold and jade, Yaoying sat regally on the couch. The peony at her temple trembled gently as she spoke again, “Good. You’ve trained in martial arts and your mind is steady. If even you were startled, then others will surely be intimidated.”

Still silently praying, Yuanjue accepted a suit of armour held out before him.

“Today I’ll trouble you to act as my guard,” Yaoying chuckled. “Help me put on a good show.”

Yuanjue lowered his head and replied obediently. He donned the armour, stepped inside, and stood at the base of the couch. Several other Han men were already dressed similarly, armed with sabres, stationed solemnly in each corner of the room.

Maids knelt behind Yaoying, holding precious fans, incense burners, and perfume boxes, while the scent of tea, being brewed by the attendants in the corridor, drifted through the air..

Yuanjue stood ramrod straight, he dared not even breathe loudly.

Yaoying surveyed the room once more to ensure every detail was perfectly arranged. Only then did she slowly exhale.

Back at the royal court, she had already tasked Old Qi with reaching out to the loyalist factions. The noble clans of Hexi had long suffered oppression and yearned for the return of their homeland. Upon learning she was a princess from the Central Plains, they had responded quickly; Among them were several great clans of Gaochang.

The royal family’s support was critical, but even more essential were the entrenched, long-established clans of the Western Regions. Since King Yuchi Damo was currently under house arrest, she would begin with these nobles first.

Today’s meeting with these allies was crucial. She needed to make a powerful impression.

As the saying went, a mighty dragon cannot crush a snake in its own lair. For now, she could offer no concrete promises. To awe these Hexi nobles, long severed from the Central Plains, she had to strike hard from the very first moment. She needed to dominate them all.

She had to show the utmost sincerity, and also ensure that these clans saw in her the very thing they yearned for.

When Yaoying first arrived in Gaochang, the absence of Han attire and speech in the streets had unnerved her. She feared the nobles had long forgotten their homeland.

As she wandered the markets daily, studying local trends of popular embroidery patterns, coveted cosmetics, high-demand goods, she noticed some peculiarities. Buddhist sutras and classical texts in Han characters were still in demand, and noblewomen fought to purchase Central Plains silks, hairpins, and jade.

Qi Nian told her many had been forced to change their customs, but deep down they had never forgotten their heritage. On festival days, they still made secret offerings to their ancestors, praying for the return of imperial army.

So, this first meeting was critical. Yaoying had to let them see a dignified, confident Princess of Great Wei, a beacon of hope, not some helpless, pitiable little girl.

Her hair, her makeup, her robes, the uniforms of her guards and maids, even the furnishings in the room, none of it reflected the latest styles in Chang’an. Instead, it echoed the styles of the northern regions in the years just before the kingdom fell.

The local clans, isolated from the Central Plains for so long, would recognise that this was the homeland in their hearts. This was what would stir them.

Yaoying steadied herself and gave a look to the guards at the door.

Let them in.

…

Downstairs, a small group hurried through the bustling marketplace and gathered outside the shop.

They were old and young alike, each wearing a golden floral crown, their braided hair trailing down their backs, dressed in round-collared, narrow-sleeved robes embroidered with floral motifs. Recognizing one another, their expressions turned grave, and they whispered urgently,  “You’ve heard as well?”

Those who had arrived were all relatives or trusted comrades of those involved in secretly training soldiers. They exchanged hushed whispers and climbed the creaking wooden stairs to the second floor.

The painted curtain lifted. A maid drew aside the beaded strands, and the scent of sandalwood enveloped them. Amidst the shimmering opulence of the chamber, Princess Wenzhao turned her gaze upon them, her luminous eyes gleaming like polished jade.

To the elders, the sight was a dagger to the heart, an echo of their youth.

A memory of peaceful days, of flourishing clans, of joyful people, and a thriving Silk Road. Gaochang had once been a beacon of wealth and splendour.

They stared in stunned silence for a long while. Emotions of nostalgia, grief, and hope surged in their hearts. Finally, they bowed to Yaoying in reverence.

Their reaction told her everything.

She had played her hand well.

…

That night, inside the Gaochang royal palace…

A secret letter, written in Han script, found its way into the hands of Yuchi Damo. As he finished reading, a strange light flickered in his eyes.

Footsteps sounded outside the door.

Turning away, he held the paper to an oil lamp, letting the flames lick hungrily at its edges.