“Yes.” Helian Zheng replied, examining her. She had a slightly tallow face and low eyebrows, but if he looked at her closely she was not actually that ugly, and he quite liked her tranquil demeanor and grace. The more he looked at her, the happier he became, and finally he waved his hand, “Ba Biao[1]!”
His eight guards with their gold threaded whips immediately stepped forward.
“Betrothal Presents!”
The eight men each took out a little yellow cloth-bag, proffering them up as if they were precious gifts.
What rare treasures were these?
Anger rose on Madam Feng’s face again and she was just about to step forward and slap away the cloth bags when she caught Feng Zhiwei’s gaze and swallowed her anger, stepping back a step.
“Presenting the most precious betrothal gifts of our land, for my woman.” Helian Zheng loudly declaimed. “Just as eagles cannot live without the sky and sheep cannot live without the plains, the warriors of the United Twelve Tribes cannot live without this!”
The Ba Biao moved as one, unfurling the yellow cloth bags revealing eight piles of fine white powder, snowy white and dazzling to the eyes.
Salt.
The yard filled with snickers and Madam Feng glared angrily. Feng Zhiwei smiled as well, but without mockery, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Beside them, hidden behind a large flower vat, Old An laughed so hard she trembled: “Salt… the betrothal gift is salt…”
Helian Zheng lifted his chin, his eyes proud and serious, not at all bothered by the snickering laughter. He peered sideways at the servant women, sneering: “Central Plain’s women truly are unlearned!”
“It is indeed a precious gift.” Feng Zhiwei nodded, smiling. “Hu Zhuo is landlocked and far from any salt mines, but salt is still the most important and irreplaceable part of a person’s life. Without silk and brocades, cow and sheepskin will do; without poultry and fish, lamb and milk will do; but without salt, the Hu Zhuo’s fearless steppe warriors will not have the strength to fight on the battlefield. Prince, is this your way of saying that I am irreplaceable?”
Helian Zheng’s eyes gleamed as he spoke spiritedly: “I knew that Yellow Face was not like these peasants who only know gold, silver, and jewelry.”
“I am unique.” Feng Zhiwei replied, looking down motionlessly at Helian Zheng. “And when you finally marry your lawful wife, what betrothal gift will you present for her uniqueness and preciousness?”
Helian Zheng thought seriously for a moment before replying: “A salt bowl!”
A salt king…
Feng Zhiwei eyed this salt-bowl-harem Hu Zhuo Prince and could not help but think that Hu Zhuo’s royal court was really able to save money with these gifts…
Helian Zheng looked up into her eyes, her faint smile containing amusement and gloom like countless small stars twinkling in the misty, dark blue night — beauty and hidden majesty.
Those eyes were open and clear, and as he stared, her face no longer seemed so tallow nor her eyebrows so misplaced; her expressions seemed to grow more elegant and beautiful, as if floating clouds were spreading, revealing a brilliant sky hidden above, and she seemed to become lofty and distant, warm and gentle.
Helian Zheng hated looking up at anyone, but somehow in this moment everything felt right, as if her position above and his below was intended by nature.
He was stirred from his trance by the woman’s voice, her beautiful smile: “This Concubine has heard that steppe men always give a show of their strength when they propose, to demonstrate their eagle-like heroism and dignity. Is the Hu Zhuo Prince willing to prove his prowess before this Concubine?”
Feng Zhiwei’s words instantly filled Helian Zheng’s mind with imagination, a large, beautiful tent lit with brilliant red candles, a bride within veil-covered, smooth and soft skin peeking through… A grin split his face as he quickly replied: “Of course, only the triumphant are worthy of marrying the best women!”
“Good.” Feng Zhiwei sat, feigning weakness. “This Concubine does not know Kungfu, and I cannot ask you to fight the Qiu Mansion guards, but this Concubine has a dear servant girl who has some feelings for the steppe eagle’s magnificence. Are you willing to show her some moves?”
“Your servant girl?” Helian Zheng laughed loudly. “I never fight women, but since she is your personal servant girl, I do not mind conquering her to make you happy.”
Feng Zhiwei examined the prince who had leaned so heavily on the words “personal” and “conquer,” waving her hand and calling: “Yiyi, someone wants to conquer you.”
The servant girl wore elegant, sky blue robes topped by the beautiful veil, setting aside her walnuts as she impatiently stepped forward. Servant girl Gu moved hastily, eager to return to her snacks.
Young Master Gu held himself elegantly, his clothing like that of a fairy, his demeanor gorgeous, and his too tall height only gave him more charm. In the eyes of the Central Plain, he was too tall and his steps too casual, but Helian Zheng and his guards perked up brightly.
“So the Central Plains women can also grow this tall!” Helian Zheng turned to laugh with his Ba Biao, “Taller than Elder Sister.”
“Princess Jesili is the most beautiful nightingale of the steppes and no one can compare.” A man with an indigo face tattoo replied, voice deep. “But this woman is pretty good as well.”
“San Sun[2], do you like her?” Helian Zheng laughed. “Go, if you win I’ll gift her to you.”
“Thank you Prince!” The burly San Sun happily took off his outer robes, revealing his strong muscles.
Helian Zheng called out behind him, “Be gentle, don’t hurt the beautiful woman.”
“Don’t worry.” San Sun replied, casually unfurling his whip. “This subordinate will be gentle with his own woman.”
Feng Zhiwei sat, leisurely shelling her walnuts as she interrupted the conversation: “Prince Hu Zhuo, you know we Central Plains people speak subtly, even though I asked you for pointers, this is still a Kungfu competition, and a competition needs to have a winner and a loser. Should we make a bet?”
“A bet?” Helian Zheng replied incredulously. “You can’t be thinking you can win?”
“It’ll be more exciting with something at stake.” Feng Zhiwei replied, carefully peeling the skin off of the walnut meat. “Since you’re so confident in your victory and already granted Yiyi away without my input, how could you not dare to bet?”
“You are mine and so your servant girl is mine.” Helian Zheng replied, glancing sidelong at her. “Why would I need to ask your input? Fine, if you want to bet then bet, since you want to gamble, don’t blame me if you lose everything.”
“Then we are agreed.” Feng Zhiwei smiled. “Whoever breaks the bet has to crawl backwards out of Dijing.”
[1] 八彪 Eight Valiants
[2] 三隼 Third Falcon
