Thousand Miles of Bright Moonlight - Chapter 159.3

Yang Qian suddenly felt a wave of despondence.

A cup of warm goat’s milk was placed beside him.

He lifted his eyelids.

Yaoying pushed the teacup a little closer into his hands, her voice steady. “Young Master Yang, even an ant clings to life, a person does even more so? Now I am stranded in foreign lands without troops or generals, with Helong fallen and the Northern Rong strong and prosperous. Your clansmen reporting me to gain immediate benefits is only human nature. After all, a distant magistrate can’t govern as well as a local tyrant, especially when Gaochang has already bowed to the Northern Rong.”

Yang Qian accepted the cup, staring at the snow-white goat’s milk inside. He said bitterly, “I, Yang Qian, am a man of spirit. I will not live like them, grovelling for scraps. A true man should carry a three-foot sword and achieve immortal glory!”

Yaoying stifled a laugh.

She knew Yang Qian was a man of firm will, true to his word, who would rather die than yield. He was not just a hot-headed youth who shouted lofty words without action. Yet in the eyes of others, he still seemed a little naïve and childish, no wonder the townsfolk called him a wandering knight.

“Young Master, such is the way of the world—there is no need to take it to heart. At present, I am alone and powerless; naturally your clansmen can betray me for wealth and survival. But if the Northern Rong were to fall into chaos, and I commanded troops and generals, and had a hero like you to lend his strength, with support from the tribes within and without, and Great Wei could send troops west, would they still risk being cooked like hounds after the rabbit is caught to curry favour with the Northern Rong?”

Yang Qian suddenly lifted his head, his two pupils blazing, as though two flames had sprung to life in his eyes.

Yaoying’s expression was calm. “Since you wish to achieve immortal glory, you must not let yourself be wounded in spirit by a temporary setback. Those who achieve great deeds cannot be confined by petty gains or losses. You must unite with everyone who can be united, make friends with all who can be befriended. Your clansmen may be timid and greedy for life, but they too wish to seize fortune from peril.”

Yang Qian fell silent, pondering for a moment before squaring his shoulders again.

He understood the Princess’s hint.

When he was weak, his clansmen opposed him. But when he had the strength to join with the Central Plains dynasty and reclaim their homeland, would they still try to block him? Which of the noble families in the city did not, in their hearts, yearn for the prosperity and peace of the days bygone?

Yang Qian tapped the sheepskin scroll. “These people cannot be killed.”

First, their crimes were not worthy of death.
Second, killing rashly would only deepen hostilities.

Yaoying nodded. “I will send these letters to Yuchi Damo.”

Yang Qian’s eyelids twitched, his teeth suddenly aching.

What a ruthless move.

Though Yuchi Damo and Lady Ina were husband and wife, they were like fire and water. The noble families in the city had gone behind his back to report to Lady Ina. This was no different from betraying Yuchi Damo. If the Princess sent the letters to him, was that not borrowing his hand to eliminate them?

He had thought the Princess, after spending time with the Buddha’s Son, might follow his example of mercy and virtue!

Yaoying met Yang Qian’s startled gaze and smiled faintly.

If she simply let those people go, Lady Ina’s personal guards would be knocking at her door within three days. She had no wish to risk her life trying to reform such cunning sorts.

Yang Qian narrowed his eyes, thought for a moment, then said with a trace of gloating, “The Princess’s handling of them is…fitting.”

Yuchi Damo would not kill over such a small matter, but neither would he let them off lightly. No doubt they would suffer some pain of the flesh. A lesson would do them good, so they would not go running to betray others at the first hint of trouble.

Having understood this, Yang Qian let out a long breath. Then, thinking of Yaoying’s plight, he looked ashamed. “All these years I’ve done nothing, with no troops to my name. I cannot escort the Princess back to the Central Plains.”

Yaoying had been meaning to speak to him about this, “You are a descendant of Hexi’s Commander-in-Chief, and must be well-versed in military strategy. I have a presumptuous request.”

“Please speak freely, Princess.”

Yaoying’s expression became solemn. She bowed to Yang Qian, saying each word clearly, “Would Young Master Yang be willing to recruit troops for me, and train a volunteer army?”

A tremor passed through the muscles of Yang Qian’s face.

Yaoying met his gaze steadily and said slowly, “A true man should carry a three-foot sword and achieve immortal glory. I believe you are no ordinary man. You will one day make your name known across the realm and fulfil your ambitions.”

No matter what came of it, at least this time he would know that the Central Plains had not completely abandoned the lost territories. He would not die in despair and solitude.

Yang Qian’s chest rose and fell violently, his eyes bright as the stars.

…

Yuanjue sat outside the carriage, listening to the tremor of excitement in Yang Qian’s voice within, and felt his own heart tremble in response.

What on earth was this Han man talking to the Princess about? How could they have been speaking for so long?

His thoughts were unsettled, his brows knit, torn between irritation and puzzlement at his own irritation. When the carriage stopped, he quickly reined in his mind, scanned the surroundings, and signalled the all-clear.

The felt curtain lifted, and the tall figure of Yang Qian jumped from the carriage and strode away, brimming with vigour, his spirit soaring, his eyes brighter than the stars.

Yuanjue discreetly rolled his eyes.

They continued circling the alley until they were certain no one was tailing them, then turned back towards their residence.

Night had deepened. Silence lay over everything, while snowflakes whirled through the air.

The carriage rolled into the rear courtyard. Yuanjue leapt to the ground and turned to help Yaoying down. Lifting the felt curtain, he froze at the sight inside.

Under the dim flicker of a lone lamp, Yaoying was leaning in a corner of the carriage, arms folded, lashes lowered. She was apparently asleep.

She had met with several groups of people that day and was utterly exhausted; even her voice had been hoarse when speaking with Yang Qian.

Yuanjue hesitated, unsure whether to wake her, when one of the guards stationed at the courtyard strode over.

“The Princess has returned? The Regent wants to see her.”

Yuanjue blinked, and for some reason, suddenly felt a pang of guilt on Yaoying’s behalf.