Meng Xizhao’s shout brought forth a cursing guard, who swung open the wooden door of his compartment, ready to strike him with a long stick.
Meng Xizhao dodged just in time, raising his voice: “Sir, spare me! I have urgent news for you, matters of life and death—time is of the essence!”
The guard paused, eyeing him suspiciously. Meng Xizhao quickly blinked innocently, meeting the guard’s gaze with the most sincere, desperate look he could muster. After a brief hesitation, the guard, muttering curses, turned and left.
Meng Xizhao drew a long breath, filling his tense chest with air again.
Xie Yuan and the others stared in astonishment, unsure what he was up to. At this point, asking for mercy seemed a little late.
Meng Xizhao ignored them, quietly massaging his face to gather his composure.
Soon, the supervising officer arrived. Seeing Meng Xizhao creating trouble even at such a moment, his expression darkened.
“Why did you call me?” he barked.
Wasn’t he busy enough already, facing reprimands from his superiors and the princess?
Meng Xizhao took a few quick steps, gripping the wooden panel of the compartment, his eyes fixed on the officer like a drowning man clinging to a last straw—simultaneously desperate and wild.
The supervising officer: “…………”
Everything seemed normal before—why the sudden sense of unease?
Meng Xizhao spoke: “Sir, I want to live!”
Seeing him set up such a dramatic scene, the officer laughed in frustration: “Want to live, yet still act up? One more outburst and I’ll cut you down myself!”
Meng Xizhao’s eyes pleaded urgently: “Sir, think how worthless it would be to kill me! I am of great use—I can resolve your difficulties. Aren’t you worried the mission might fail and the princess will be angry? I know exactly how to prevent her from being upset!”
The officer’s face darkened. “You’ve been eavesdropping, haven’t you?”
Meng Xizhao’s eyes flickered. “No, no… I just overheard by accident.”
Previously, the officer had treated them like ordinary Daqi cargo, with no thought of precaution. Who would guard a few scavenged animals carefully?
A little annoyed, the officer nevertheless did not take Meng Xizhao seriously—so he was not overly angry.
After a pause, he finally asked: “What is your plan?”
Meng Xizhao hesitated a moment, then spilled it all like beans from a bamboo tube:
“Sir, here’s my idea. The princess is angry because her reputation has been damaged—she feels humiliated, treated like merchandise. So we turn it around. You can tell her, even if the prefect wasn’t captured, the rumor can be reversed. They claimed the Nanzhao emperor intended to give the princess to some thug. Instead of denying it—making it seem worse—admit it, but explain: it’s not about sending the princess to a thug, it’s about Nanzhao women being given to Qi men who submit to Nanzhao. The higher the man’s status, the more prestigious the woman. Naturally, the princess is included, but ordinary Qi men aren’t worthy. Only the most honored Qi men have a chance.”
Taking a breath, Meng Xizhao leaned closer to the wood, lowering his voice conspiratorially: “How high that status is? Ultimately, it’s the princess’s word. She could say only princes or dukes of Qi who submit would be chosen. It can never happen—she decides however she wishes.”
The officer paused, staring at him in astonishment.
Upon reflection… the plan actually made a certain sense.
Nanzhao didn’t value chastity. Their marriage system was imperfect, and their women were proud of their own appeal. If many desired them, they would take pride in it.
This time, the princess was upset because she had been unfairly blamed, and the rumor would send her to a man she absolutely despised—a fate no different from being compared to a village woman. Utterly humiliating.
According to Meng Xizhao’s plan, the princess’s dignity would be preserved, and there might even be an unexpected benefit.
If a Qi subject truly submitted, and his rank was high, what harm would there be in granting him a woman?
The supervising officer grew increasingly excited as he considered it, feeling that both his life and his career could be saved. He opened his mouth to speak, but then caught Meng Xizhao’s imploring gaze, and immediately adopted an inscrutable expression.
“You’ve got quite the nerve,” he said.
Meng Xizhao forced a bitter smile. “What can I do… I’m truly useless. I fear that if I’m of no help, you’ll send me off to do labor. Sir, I’ve never even made my own bed in my life; sending me to labor would be a death sentence. For the sake of my loyalty to you, please, spare me!”
The officer: “…………”
If the princess had such shameless audacity, he wouldn’t have had to come all this way for nothing.
In the end, he didn’t give Meng Xizhao any firm promises, only told him to stay put, and then left.
After he left, Meng Xizhao remained standing, feigning a mix of anxiety and indecision, before finally sitting back down in his original spot.
To his left, Wang Sili and Jia Renliang stared at him in awe; to his right, Xie Yuan looked on with deep respect.
In truth, all three were thinking the same thing—they just expressed it differently:
—Finally, they understood why Meng Xizhao had said that surviving the perils of the Xiongnu didn’t compare to seeking wealth through danger.
—Back then, in the Xiongnu, he had fought for Qi’s interests. Now, he had outright betrayed Qi, preemptively siding with Nanzhao!
Xie Yuan knew Meng Xizhao likely had another move up his sleeve, but he couldn’t imagine what it could be, so he felt admiration. Wang Sili and Jia Renliang couldn’t even conceive of a next move—they could only think: Meng Xizhao is truly brave; to reclaim Qi, he first sells out Qi.
After sitting for a while, Meng Xizhao turned to Wang Sili. “I recall your hometown is Jingyang?”
Wang Sili: “…Yes.”
Meng Xizhao propped his chin, his curiosity piqued. “Jingyang is a necessary stop on the route to the three northwestern kingdoms. Surely you have many merchants traveling south and north? Tell me, what do they usually sell?”
Wang Sili: “…………”
He was stunned.
Sitting in a tiny cell, recounting past events to Meng Xizhao—was this what a normal person should be doing right now?!
…Yet, after a dazed glance at Meng Xizhao, Wang Sili somehow sighed and began explaining. At this point, he had no choice but to accept his fate.
Once Meng Xizhao had learned about Jingyang from Wang Sili, he inquired of Xie Yuan about Yingtian Prefecture. Having spent just over a year there, Meng Xizhao still knew more of the routes than Xie Yuan had.
While he busied himself with these inquiries, the supervising officer was not idle. He rushed to the palace to meet the princess, reporting first his failure. Before she could become enraged, he hastily presented the plan Meng Xizhao had devised—though he claimed it was his own idea on the way back.
Rosa Hua, seated before her dressing mirror, saw the subservient man in reflection and laughed. “You thought of this?”
The officer: “……”
Uneasy, he looked up, and seeing the princess’s half-smile, he shivered. He quickly told the truth: “It was on the way. We captured several Qi people, and one of them reminded me—I then thought of this plan.”
Rosa Hua knew well enough that this account was probably watered down. After all her years, she understood that a man’s promises rarely change, except when swearing by heaven. A man who had been a warrior before remains a warrior, and suddenly claiming to be clever enough to devise a plan even she hadn’t imagined… well, she had to admit he said it well.
But she didn’t expose the officer’s lie. Instead, she fiddled with the jewelry in her case, then turned and dismissed her attendants, lifting her gaze to the officer:
“I must see Meng Xizhao myself. If this time he cannot be brought here, then you need not return.”
The officer’s mood immediately darkened, and he silently acknowledged her order: “Yes.”
As he turned to leave, Rosa Hua called him back. “Wait.”
The officer, confused, turned. Rosa Hua rested her wrist on the table, letting a dozen thin silver bracelets clink softly. She tapped her finger lightly on the surface, thinking for a moment before saying: “Call the Qi subject who gave you the reminder—I wish to see him.”
The officer hesitated, considering warning her that the man was in poor health, but quickly realized: did she know that or not? He had just offended the princess; offending her again would be unwise. Let Jin Sanzang provoke her himself.
With that, the officer nodded and went to fetch him.
Meng Xizhao knew very little about this famous Nanzhao princess.
But he knew her name. After Zhan Buxiu declared himself emperor, he was so aggressive that Nanzhao feared instability in the newly captured lands. They offered Princess Rosa Hua in marriage to Zhan Buxiu, hoping for an alliance.
However, Nanzhao insisted she be made empress.
Zhan Buxiu, who already disliked Nanzhao, felt doubly humiliated and refused. He even executed the Nanzhao envoy in pieces and sent them back.
Strength ruled, and giving no face was a calculated insult—but Nanzhao endured.
Not only did she not question Zhan Buxiu, but she also never brought up the marriage alliance again. Later, when Zhan Buxiu really attacked Nanzhao, Princess Rosa Hua remained by the Nanzhao emperor’s side—she wasn’t sent away, nor was she rejected. There was one small detail: during a battle when the Nanzhao forces were faltering, the emperor was furious and wanted to execute the general responsible for the defeat. It was this princess who interceded and saved him. Because of her, Nanzhao was able to hold out for a while longer.
Now, the key points:
It’s clear that this princess holds an extremely high position and can influence the Nanzhao emperor. She is nothing like the ornamental Qi princesses. She can speak in front of the emperor and command the Yu Yi Army, and the soldiers fear her greatly. This shows her authority isn’t merely due to the emperor’s favor—she’s genuinely capable of leadership.
Moreover, her mental fortitude is exceptional. Even being rejected by Zhan Buxiu, she continued with her life as if nothing happened. Meng Xizhao even suspected that the marriage alliance might have been her choice. After all, being Zhan Buxiu’s empress is far more prestigious than simply being a princess of one kingdom.
In short, she is clever—possibly very clever. Meng Xizhao felt reassured, knowing that someone of her caliber would recognize if an idea had been planted by another.
After gathering as much information as he could from his companions, Meng Xizhao finally lay down to sleep. Seeing that he could still fall asleep so easily left Wang Sili even more astonished. Meng Xizhao truly never failed to redefine what they thought they knew about him.
Near dusk, while the sky had not yet darkened, the supervising officer suddenly returned. He flung open Meng Xizhao’s cell door, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him outside.
Startled from his sleep, Meng Xizhao’s panic was genuine. Xie Yuan and the others jumped up anxiously but could do nothing—only watch as Meng Xizhao was taken away.
Outside, the officer glared at him. “The princess wants to see you. Be sensible: say what you must, and no more.”
Meng Xizhao’s face was plastered with fear as he meekly nodded. As the officer turned his back, Meng Xizhao silently sneered at the back of his head and even mouthed:
“I—won’t—”
The officer seemed to sense something, but Meng Xizhao quickly shifted back into a trembling, obedient expression.
The officer: “…………”
They rode to the palace, Meng Xizhao positioned like cargo atop the horse. Fortunately, it was close—less than a quarter of an hour later, they arrived. He nearly fell off, scrambling to his feet and dusting himself off.
The officer noticed for the first time that this “second-class cargo” actually looked quite dashing now that the rain and dirt had washed away the grime from his face. Still, since he already had a mark before the princess, there was no need to present him further. He grabbed Meng Xizhao by the collar and led him inside.
Meng Xizhao noticed a stall outside the palace selling pastries similar to the top scholar’s rice cakes. His stomach growled, tempted to buy a couple, but the officer wouldn’t allow it and hurried him along. Every few steps, Meng Xizhao glanced longingly at the young woman running the stall. She wore typical Nanzhao attire and skillfully wrapped the pastries, noticing him as he noticed her. But the Yu Yi soldiers nearby ensured she dared not linger in their gaze for long.
Finally, they arrived at the Western Palace. Meng Xizhao quietly stood as attendants went to announce his arrival. He rubbed his long-empty stomach and, bored, took in the sights of the Nanzhao palace. When he turned, he suddenly realized no one was behind him.
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
They just left me?
He gaped, forming a new impression of the Nanzhao palace—chaotic management. Outsiders could enter with no guide or escort. Optimistically, it suggested confidence in their own strength; pessimistically, it showed lax rules, leaving room for individuals to act even while serving the emperor.
He pressed his lips together and, not daring to move about, obediently stood in place.
After a while, someone finally approached him.
Everything in Nanzhao mimicked the Tang dynasty—official documents, architecture, social structure. The Western Palace was splendid and imposing. Meng Xizhao had half-expected a Nanzhao version of Huaqing Pool. Crossing the threshold, he found the princess staring at him without blinking.
Meng Xizhao froze.
She sized him up, and he sized her in return.
Meng Xizhao felt she should be older, but she was only twenty-five—at the peak of her beauty. Rosa Hua was renowned as Nanzhao’s most beautiful woman, and she truly deserved the title.
Having seen much of the world since his arrival, Meng Xizhao had encountered many stunning beauties, each with their own charm. Yet Rosa Hua stood out even among them.
She wore a silk long robe; while the outer layer was styled after Central Plains fashion, her inner garment blended Tang-era revealing cuts with Nanzhao ethnic features, leaving her shoulders bare. Meng Xizhao raised an eyebrow.
It was unusual. Outside Baihua Street, he’d rarely seen women exposing their shoulders.
Rosa Hua not only exposed her shoulders, but she also went without shoes or socks, her jade-like feet pressing directly onto the soft carpet.
She waited for his reaction. Typically, Qi men seeing her like this would blush and pant; the most extreme would leap in outrage, claiming shamelessness; the meekest would avert their eyes, muttering prayers to avoid sin.
Meng Xizhao only slightly moved his expression, then fixed his gaze precisely on her face, remaining still.
Rosa Hua: “……”
After a moment of silence, she looked at him with amusement. “You really are different from the other Qi men.”
Meng Xizhao humbly replied, “If I were the same, how could I have come before you?”
Rosa Hua raised an eyebrow. “You wanted to come before me?”
Lowering his head, Meng Xizhao said, “I dare not. But on the way here, the journey has been unbearably harsh. I, Jin, could not survive it as I am, so I had to find a way to secure myself a support, to eat and dress properly again.”
Rosa Hua: “You’re surprisingly honest.”
Meng Xizhao lowered his head even further, his composure not as calm as it appeared. “As a humble merchant, I know that trying to outsmart clever people is a dead end. I don’t wish to die—I only wish to live.”
At his words, Rosa Hua smiled in a way that was difficult to read. “Even if it means you’ve betrayed Qi?”
Meng Xizhao pursed his lips. Slowly, he raised his head. “Your Highness may not know, but my ancestors were officials. My great-grandfather was a magistrate, though he passed away not long after the dynasty ended. My grandfather lived through regime changes. My father and I often heard stories of the past from him.”
He paused before continuing, “The world is harsh—being an official risks your life. But commerce allows a stable life. The people of Qi speak of scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants; I practice merchant, artisan, farmer, scholar. The difference is simple: one pursues fleeting honor, the other pursues solid two taels of silver in hand.”
Rosa Hua studied him quietly. “Do you know no royal would want to hear such words from you? Aren’t you afraid I will despise you?”
Meng Xizhao smiled. “A traitor is far worse than a profit-driven merchant. You, Your Highness, are astute—you know this. Again, I say, I only wish to survive. Naturally, I dare not deceive you; I will speak all my thoughts truthfully. Know this: I have not betrayed Qi. My heart has never been with Qi—it lies with survival and profit.”
Rosa Hua found his words somewhat displeasing. She disliked merchants for their greed, for their absolute selfishness. Yet, disliking them did not mean she despised them; in fact, she welcomed using them.
The merchants she had encountered before had their own foundations and power, making them difficult to control. If they found a loophole, she would end up as their financial reservoir. But this Jin Sanzang was different: he was from Qi, and his life and death were entirely at her discretion.
She studied him a moment longer, then suddenly changed the subject. “When you trade, what kinds of goods do you deal in?”
Meng Xizhao’s eyes lit up as if he had spotted an opportunity.
Rosa Hua: “…………”
He began in earnest, detailing their cross-border trading business. They bought cattle and sheep from the Xiongnu and sold them in Yingtian Prefecture, where the wealthy favored Xiongnu livestock. In these trades, they also collected hides, occasionally traveling east to the Jurchens.
When discussing the Xiongnu, he spoke methodically. But when mentioning the Jurchens, his words became animated—describing the abundant treasures, mountain goods, pine cones in autumn, and the Jurchens’ illiteracy, which kept prices low.
For years, the Xiongnu had dominated the Jurchens. Meng Xizhao would exchange hides from the Xiongnu for ginseng from the Jurchens. Their ginseng was plentiful and large; once, he traded a fox pelt from the desert for one the size of a forearm.
Rosa Hua listened in astonishment.
Having never visited the north, she couldn’t verify his words—but much of it aligned with what she had heard. Even the parts she couldn’t cross-check sounded entirely believable. Meng Xizhao even described the terrain of the Jurchens in detail, something impossible for her to know firsthand.
He continued, recalling his travels to Changbai Mountain, carefully picking what to share. He expected Rosa Hua to ask about the Yuezhi and Xia states, but she didn’t. After hearing about the Jurchens, she fully accepted his identity as a merchant.
Rosa Hua curtailed his long discourse. “We in Nanzhao are not unreasonable. As a princess, I will not repay kindness with enmity. For helping me resolve a problem, even though you are from Qi, I will not mind your origins. If you wish to remain by my side and serve me, I will grant whatever you desire.”
Meng Xizhao immediately asked, “May I return to Qi?”
Rosa Hua: “…No. Give up that thought. Once you enter Nanzhao, leaving is impossible unless you do so lying down.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
All his earlier composure evaporated. Rosa Hua’s stern words nearly made his hair stand on end.
After a moment of pause, he adopted a pitiful, timid expression and cautiously asked, “I worry about the family business… If I cannot return, may we at least not stay in the dungeon? My family has been taken as well. Can we be housed elsewhere?”
Rosa Hua, who had already been startled by the notion of returning to Qi, was unbothered by this request. “Very well. I will have a residence arranged for you. You may live there, and come to the Western Palace during the day.”
She smiled slightly. “I never employ idlers, Mr. Jin. If you wish for a good life, you must not be lazy in the future.”
Meng Xizhao looked at her and nodded with utmost sincerity. “Your Highness, rest assured, for the sake of my own life, I will never squander the trust you place in me.”
Hearing this, Rosa Hua smiled with satisfaction, and Meng Xizhao returned her smile with gratitude.
Thank you, thank you. Were it not for your humility and foresight, I wouldn’t have even set foot in the palace so quickly.
Princess Rosa Hua, you truly are my benefactor!