At the Chang'an Hairpin Flower Banquet, a dozen or so least-favored daughters of noble houses stood with their heads bowed, waiting to be chosen. Only Xiao Qingyue, the Thirteenth Princess, looked carefree. After all, everyone knew I had loved her for ten whole years. As the only son of a prince of a different surname, I held in my hand the sachet that would decide whether this least-favored princess could stay or would have to be sent to the Xiongnu to marry for peace. Yet even though I had prepared her dowry and our bridal home, she ignored my pleading eyes and, in front of everyone, tied the sachet around the waist of that cautious bastard son.
“He and I share the same fate,” she whispered to me, turning with a smile at the corner of her lips. “A Yan, you’ll always protect me, won’t you?”
The gong rang, and the master of ceremonies called out, “The sachet’s choice has been made!”
Watching her shoulders relax, I smiled without a sound. Fine, then.
At the hour of the tiger half a month later, I personally escorted her bridal carriage out through the pass on its way to the Xiongnu.
