Beijing. A certain Prince's mansion.
This estate—among the top five largest in the capital—had been handed over to Mingxin without so much as a second thought by the Northern Barbarian court.
They had no choice but to give him something grand. What would happen if five hundred Wolf Riders couldn't fit inside? Putting themselves in his shoes, they figured he'd simply take what he wanted by force.
And there were another five hundred auxiliary troops camped outside the city, horses and wagons included.
So the neighboring mansion was demanded as well, on the grounds that the first wasn't large enough.
This was what it meant to have someone at your mercy—he asked, and they gave.
Former dynasties had grown all too familiar with this feeling. The Mongols, for their part, had presumably never experienced it from the other side. One had to wonder whether some of them regretted ever setting foot on the Central Plains.
Once upon a time, they had ridden free across the steppe—lords of all they surveyed.
Now here they were, penned inside courtyard walls. How had they gone from masters to servants?
But when in Rome. Wherever you go, you abide by the local rules. Every other lord of the Central Plains had paid for peace. Now that you were the ones in charge, why should you suddenly be unwilling to pay for peace?
Look up and take heed: heaven's wheel turns for all—karma spares no one.
---
The bedchamber. Two people had fought a fierce battle—then the storm broke and the drums fell silent.
Sarilang lay draped across Mingxin, her cheeks flushed and radiant. "My dear lord," she murmured, "must you really go south? I truly cannot bear to part with you."
"Well… I've always longed to see those storied places—the Qinhuai River, Yangzhou—all that romance and scenery. But now that I've found something far more beautiful right here…" Mingxin paused, something between reluctance and contentment threading through his voice. "For your sake, perhaps I won't go after all."
A look of pure delight burst across Sarilang's eyes.
"My lord…"
Their gazes met and held, the heat between them building, until they threw themselves once more into glorious combat.
The most beautiful flower on the steppe had been plucked. Heaven's own pearl, cast down as a gift to the grasslands, had been taken by a damned Han man.
If a certain prince ever found out, he'd likely come charging over with a blade, half mad with grief and fury.
---
A short while later, the Northern Barbarian Empress Dowager emerged from the back gate with composed and stately grace, settled into her palanquin, and a eunuch beside her suppressed his voice to announce the return to the palace.
The woman's eyes, cold and unfeeling, swept back once as she departed.
*Hmph. Short and feeble man!*
---
In the bedchamber, Mingxin rose and washed. The haze of intoxication in his eyes vanished without a trace.
*Hmph. Scheming woman, deep as the sea!*
He collected himself, then turned to the pile of accumulated matters awaiting his attention—letters from every corner of the realm.
"Ha. The gift the Old Master is sending me is nearly here? I'm rather looking forward to it."
---
The following day, Mingxin led a platoon of Wolf troops out of the city. As they passed through the gates, the garrison commander didn't so much as let out a peep and hurried to throw them open.
Some distance down the road, a short, squat, barrel-shaped contraption came rumbling toward them, another platoon of Wolf troops following behind.
Mingxin was startled—he'd half-thought the Wolf Riders were chasing down some great beast. But the moment he laid his hands on the vehicle, he quickly accepted it.
He climbed in, had the driver take him careening in every direction, and watched the controls all the while.
"Ha! So this is the gift the Old Master sent me? I love it!"
"Driver—over there! Faster!"
"This thing isn't that hard. Let me have a go!"
Mingxin played with it for a long while without tiring of it, but remembering last night's appointment—there were still matters to attend to—he eventually turned back toward the city.
The capital naturally gave a small tremor at the arrival of the automobile, though not quite an astonished one.
Just some beast of unknown origin? Elephants were bigger, and it wasn't as if those had never been seen before.
Mingxin drove up to the palace gates. The guards took one look and fled inside to hide.
*Honk. Honk. Honk.*
Mingxin burst out laughing, pressed the horn a few more times for good measure, and drove straight into the Imperial Palace.
---
In the Hall of Supreme Harmony, a eunuch read aloud an imperial edict appointing Mingxin as the Fifth Prince Regent.
The other four Prince Regents were all dumbfounded. Nobody had breathed a word of this.
The Empress Dowager had simply decided, without consulting any of them. Something felt distinctly off.
*My flower… surely she hasn't been plucked by that damned Han man?*
*No. No, impossible. Sarilang is the very picture of dignity—she's never given me so much as a warm glance. I'm overthinking it. It must be so.*
They seethed inwardly, but none dared make an enemy of Mingxin at this moment. And what was there to say, in any case? Hadn't they seen that he had already accepted the edict? That meant he was willing.
Well. He accepted it by reaching out and taking it offhandedly, without the slightest reverence, offering only a casual nod in return.
That counted as acceptance.
Then, without waiting for the court session to close, he left—climbing into his little van and rolling off without a care in the world.
The other four Prince Regents hurried off as well, gathering to deliberate on what to do.
After some discussion, they decided to let it go. An empty title of prince—so be it. He had no real power to speak of.
By that same day, the plaques above both mansions had been changed: *Mingxin Wang Fu—The Residence of Prince Mingxin.*
Now he was a prince, too!
---
That night, the most beautiful flower of the steppe came to him again. Mingxin pulled her into the van he had acquired that very day, and another fierce battle was fought within.
One young and full of fire, the other hungry as a she-wolf—each giving as good as they got.
---
Now an official prince of the Barbarian court, Mingxin took to hosting every manner of character at his residence day after day—wine, music, games, and pleasure of every variety, all pursued with wholehearted abandon.
He invited the other Prince Regents and their generals, Barbarian commanders with real power, and Han civil officials alike.
No one dared refuse when the Wolf troops' prestige was riding so high.
Whoever was invited, came.
Word reached him that someone of consequence was gravely ill?
*Ho! Bring him here on a stretcher—let me have a look!*
*Oh my. He really is at death's door? Take him away, take him away—quickly now.*
---
What Zhao Baihui had sent was not merely an automobile. He'd also sent the Longcheng Taoyuan model and a substantial retinue of capable hands.
Mingxin strong-armed his way into buying up the surrounding properties and transformed the area into a Taoyuan Street of his own—mahjong parlors, bathhouses, pai gow tables, every amusement imaginable.
Naturally, most who came forgot to leave. Leave it to the people of Longcheng to know how to live!
A long soak in those baths and your bones went soft with pleasure. Bliss!
As for the rare few who still wouldn't show proper deference—well, sorry about that, but Mingxin was not short on brothers.
Three of the other four Prince Regents were his ironclad brothers! To slight him was to slight his brothers!
And the Minister of Rites, the Minister of Personnel—all his own people. Still dare to disrespect him?
*Brothers—impeach him for me! Demote him, strip him of office, send him back to the steppe to tend horses!*
His ironclad brothers could only pinch their noses and go along with it.
So, without anyone quite noticing, months slipped by—and everyone came to realize that the man whose word carried the most weight in the entire court was, somehow, this fellow.
And so, even as the court was overhauling its weapons and equipment and the morale shattered by the Wolf troops was slowly recovering—
People discovered that it now seemed no longer quite so easy to move against him.
Try to find someone to plot with against Mingxin—but how could you be sure that person wasn't already one of his ironclad brothers?
He'd only been here a matter of months. How did he have ironclad brothers everywhere?
The waters of the Barbarian court grew murkier by the day.
---
"Report—!"
"Your Majesty, the Red-Haired Devils from the north have attacked! Three tribes have already been routed!"
"What?! The Red-Haired Devils?! Summon the Prince Regents at once—summon Prince Regent Mingxin immediately!" The young emperor nearly tumbled off his dragon throne in fright.
Messengers rushed in a panic to Mingxin's residence, only to cool their heels for quite some time before being received.
"The Red-Haired Devils? Understood. I'll head over shortly. Have the other Prince Regent lords arrived?"
"Wait outside—I need to put on… I need to change my clothes. I'll be right there."
The palace envoy left the mansion and started back, but had taken only a few steps when he saw a palanquin emerge from a side gate of Mingxin's residence.
A gust of wind stirred the curtain aside, revealing a beautiful face within.
Wait—was that not the second most beautiful flower of the steppe? The wife of a certain prince?
Did I see that wrong?
---
The Red-Haired Devils inhabited the far northern reaches, beyond even the great steppe itself. They had earned their name from their extraordinarily long beards and their deeply ruddy complexions.
When the news reached Mingxin, he too was bewildered. What had gotten into this world? Why were monsters and demons crawling out from every direction?
Could he not be allowed to remain in the capital in peace, enjoying his pleasures to the fullest?
There were still so many flowers left to pick.
He loathed war.