My father is Chongzhen? Then I have no choice but to rebel.

"I wonder... what he's doing now? Has he received my letter? How will he view my brother's request? Will he... remember me?"

An idea jumped into her mind uncontrollably, and Qiqige's cheeks became slightly hot in the cold, with a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

She subconsciously tightened her mink cloak, as if trying to conceal the sudden surge of emotion within her.

"Da da da... da da da..."

Just then, the sound of rapid hoofbeats, growing louder as they approached, broke the silence on the snow-covered slope.

Qiqige suddenly turned around and saw a Khorchin cavalryman galloping from the direction of the camp, his horse kicking up a trail of snow.

The cavalryman had clearly seen Qiqige on the slope and charged straight toward her.

Upon reaching him, the cavalryman nimbly dismounted, knelt on one knee in the snow, placed his right hand on his chest, and said urgently in Mongolian:
"Your Highness! An envoy has arrived from the south... from the Ming Dynasty! He has brought a letter, saying he wishes to present it to the Taiji and you in person!"

Qiqige's heart skipped a beat, as if gripped tightly by an invisible hand, followed by a surge of intense emotion, a mixture of anticipation and tension.

She forced herself to calm down, but the sudden gleam in her clear eyes betrayed the turmoil within her.

"Where is he? Take me there quickly!"

Qiqige's voice trembled slightly, but her tone was resolute.

Without further hesitation, she turned and ran towards her mount, which was tied to a dead tree not far away and was impatiently digging at the snow. She nimbly mounted the horse, the hem of her red robe drawing a bright arc on the snow.

"Yes, Princess! The envoy is in the Khan's tent!"

The cavalryman who brought the news quickly mounted his horse and led the way.

Two riders, one in front and one behind, charged down the snow slope toward the vast, smoke-filled yurt camp. Their hooves left deep marks on the soft snow, which were then quietly covered by the snow dust whipped up by the cold wind.

Before long, Qiqige arrived at the most magnificent golden-topped Khan's tent.

The Khorchin warriors guarding the door bowed and lifted the heavy felt curtain with fur trim for her.

A waft of air filled with the aromas of milk, meat, leather, and the warmth of charcoal.

The tent was spacious, with a thick, colorful woven carpet on the floor and a huge copper brazier in the center, where a roaring fire dispelled the cold outside.

However, the atmosphere inside the tent was completely at odds with the warmth, appearing somewhat stagnant and heavy.

Qiqige immediately spotted a travel-worn but upright man standing in the tent.

He wasn't wearing a Mongolian robe, but rather a white cloak for camouflage in the snow, over which he wore the dark-colored close-fitting clothes commonly worn by Ming soldiers at night. He had a goose-feather saber and a pistol at his waist. His face bore the marks of a long journey and the harshness of the frontier, but his eyes were sharp and bright, calmly gazing in the direction of the main seat.

It was an elite night messenger dispatched by the Xuanfu Town of the Ming Dynasty.

On the other side of the messenger, Abnai's face was ashen, his thick eyebrows were tightly furrowed, his lips were pressed into a stiff line, and his chest rose and fell slightly, clearly in a state of suppressed anger.

As soon as Qiqige stepped into the solemn tent, her gaze quickly swept across the inside.

She saw her brother Abunai's ashen face, the solemn expressions of her uncles and generals, and the Ming scout who, despite his travel-worn appearance, stood ramrod straight.

That night, Bu Shou was clearly well-trained. Despite being in an unfamiliar and oppressive environment, being scrutinized by many Khorchin nobles, he maintained the composure and vigilance of a soldier, his right hand always seemingly casually approaching the hilt of his sword at his waist.

At this moment, Qiqige had no time to analyze why her brother's face looked so bad, nor did she care about the subtle atmosphere inside the tent.

She had only one thought in her mind: the possible echo from Beijing brought by the night watchman.

She walked straight towards the night watchman, her clear voice breaking the brief silence in the tent, spoken in fluent Mandarin with a slight accent:
"He replied? To whom?"

That night, Bu Shou had clearly received instructions beforehand, knowing that the girl in front of him, dressed in a magnificent Mongolian robe and possessing an extraordinary air, was Qiqige.

He dared not be negligent and replied respectfully:
"Your Highness, His Highness the Crown Prince has sent a reply. He has strictly ordered that this letter be delivered to Your Highness personally."

As he spoke, he carefully took out a finely crafted, palm-sized, flat copper box from the innermost layer of his close-fitting, oilcloth-lined leather coat.

The sealed box had precise latches on its edges, requiring a specific technique to open, and still retained the warmth of his chest.

He demonstrated the box's integrity to the public before opening it with a "click" by manipulating the latches in a specific sequence.

Inside the box lay a neatly folded letter sealed with vermilion wax.

Upon seeing the tightly guarded letter, Abunai couldn't help but let out a short, suppressed snort, his face growing increasingly grim.

That's where my anger came from.

As the Khan of the Khorchin tribe and the future negotiating partner, Abunai naturally believed that he had the right to know the contents of the letter as soon as possible.

He asked the night watchman to hand over the letter to him so that he could open and read it.

However, this scout was exceptionally stubborn. No matter how much Abunai tried to intimidate him, or even when several generals in the tent rebuked him, he only repeated one sentence:

"His Highness the Crown Prince has strictly ordered that this letter must be delivered to Princess Qiqige personally. I have no right to hand it over or open it before seeing the princess. This is a military order, and anyone who disobeys will be executed."

This attitude of distrust and "usurpation" made Abunai, who had always been the undisputed leader in the ministry, feel that his authority had been offended. How could he not be angry?
However, since the other party was an envoy from the Ming Dynasty, representing the powerful Ming Dynasty, he couldn't really use force and could only suppress his anger and wait.

Now that Qiqige has arrived, the Night Watchers have completed their mission, but Abuna's resentment has not dissipated.

He felt a little uncomfortable about his sister receiving such special treatment, and he was also wary of Zhu Cilang's seemingly cautious but actually controlling arrangement.

However, now that the letter has been retrieved, there's no point in dwelling on it. Qiqige reached out her slightly cold hand and carefully took the letter, which still carried the warmth of Ye Bushou's body.

The paper inside is made of tough, thick, and specially made imperial paper with a subtle pattern, and the sealing wax is intact.

She composed herself, nodded slightly to the dutiful night watchman, and spoke gently:
"Thank you for your trouble. Traveling through wind and snow must have been very tiring. I have already had hot food and a clean tent prepared. You should go down and rest well before heading back."

Upon hearing this, the night watchman's face showed gratitude, and he bowed again:
"Thank you for your kindness, Your Highness! I shall take my leave."

Having said that, he no longer paid attention to Abunai and the others' expressions, turned around decisively, and left the Khan's tent led by one of Abunai's personal guards.

At the same time, Abna took a deep breath, temporarily suppressing his displeasure.

He knew that the contents of the letter must involve the core of the upcoming talks, and might even concern the fate of Khorchin and even the entire southern Mongolia, so it was not advisable to let too many people know the details.

He waved his hand and said in a deep voice in Mongolian:

"You may all step back now. Without my order, no one is to approach within a hundred paces of the Khan's tent."

"Yes, Khan!"

The nobles and generals in the tent exchanged glances. Although they were curious, they dared not disobey. They all stood up, bowed to Abunai and Qiqige, and filed out of the Khan's tent.

The heavy felt curtains fell, blocking out both sound and sight from the inside and outside.

Inside the vast golden-roofed Khan's tent, only the crackling of the blazing copper brazier and the slightly rapid breathing of Abunai and Qiqige remained.

With no outsiders around, Qiqige no longer hesitated and gently peeled off the hard vermilion sealing wax with her slightly trembling fingers.

During her two years in the Ming Dynasty, she never neglected her studies in Chinese, and now reading Chinese letters is no longer a difficult task for her.

Soon, the secret letter appeared before Qiqige.

Qiqige's gaze quickly swept over the lines of ink. The anxiety that had been hanging over her for days gradually subsided as she read the contents of the letter. A feeling mixed with relief, joy, and an indescribable anticipation quietly welled up in her heart.

She didn't even realize that her tense shoulders had relaxed and the corners of her mouth had turned up slightly.

After reading the last word, she let out a long sigh of relief, as if a huge burden had been lifted, and a relieved smile appeared on her face.

She handed the letter to Abner, who had been watching her intently, her voice light and cheerful:
"He has agreed! He will come to Xuanfu in person to meet with you. The letter says that he has set a meeting place and asked us to arrive at the agreed place within ten days. He also said... that he will have a frank discussion with you on the grand plan to destroy the slaves, and is willing to make clear commitments on the post-war situation on the grasslands and the relationship between the Ming and the Mongols."

Abunai calmly accepted the letter. Although he had a premonition, a hint of surprise still flashed in his eyes when he saw Zhu Cilang's unambiguous promise.

He murmured softly, as if talking to himself, or perhaps speaking to Qiqige:
“I really didn’t expect... that he would actually come. It seems that he attaches great importance to this meeting more than I thought.”

Upon hearing this, Qiqige immediately replied, her tone filled with certainty:

"What does this mean? It means that the Ming Dynasty is truly sincere in its willingness to cooperate with us! Brother, stop hesitating and being suspicious. Joining forces to destroy the Jurchens, reclaim the grasslands they seized, and avenge our fallen people—isn't this what you've always wanted? Now the Ming Dynasty has given us the best opportunity!"

Abnai raised his eyelids and glanced at his sister. His eyes were complicated, filled with helplessness, pity for his sister's "naivety," and deep worry.

He put down the letter, walked to the brazier, picked up the tongs and poked at the red-hot charcoal, sending up a few sparks. His voice was low and slow:
"Qiqige, my dear sister, you're oversimplifying things. Of course I know they're sincere now, wanting to use our grassland's fine horses and warriors to deal with that even more ferocious beast in Liaodong. But the problem is never 'now,' but 'later'!"

He turned around, his gaze sharpening as he looked directly at Qiqige:
"What if we really kill the Jurchen tiger together? Then the Ming dynasty, which has just had a good meal and sharpened its claws, will find the remaining sheep on the grassland too fat and take advantage of them... um? At that time, their muskets and cannons will be aimed at us!"

We lured the lion into the house, killed the tiger, only to find the lion had taken over the entire forest, leaving us nowhere to hide and potentially becoming their next meal! Tell me, what were we supposed to do then? Surrender, or fight back with our scimitars against their fire-breathing iron pipes?

Qiqige opened her mouth, wanting to refute, but was speechless for a moment.

She had considered this question, but... during her two years living in the Ming Dynasty, she gradually developed a more complex and distinct perspective on Zhu Cilang and the rapidly changing empire that was displaying astonishing power and ambition, a perspective quite different from her brother's.

She recalled that when she was in Beijing, she had nervously and indirectly asked Zhu Cilang similar questions about the Ming Dynasty's "final idea" regarding the grasslands.

She remembered that Zhu Cilang was flipping through a huge picture book with strange illustrations when he heard her. He simply looked up, glanced at her, and then smiled. His smile was somewhat nonchalant, yet it carried a kind of expansive magnanimity that captivated her.

He casually gestured on the catalog and said:

"Grasslands? Hmm, they're vast, cold, and you could ride a horse for ages and still not reach the end, with countless cattle and sheep grazing there... But so what?"

He pointed to the more expansive blue area and unfamiliar land outlines on the map.

"Qiqige, look, the world here is far larger and more wonderful than the grasslands or the Central Plains. Across the sea lies new land, with countless riches and opportunities. My gaze is not on this grassland that I have roamed for thousands of years. Let those who are accustomed to the grasslands roam freely, as long as they know their limits and know who the true masters of this sky are. What I desire is the vast universe beyond."

At the time, Qiqige did not fully understand what "the sea of ​​stars" specifically meant, but from Zhu Cilang's tone and expression, she sensed a grand ambition that transcended the grasslands and even the Central Plains.

He seemed genuinely uninterested in completely conquering, occupying, and directly ruling the steppes; that was more of a troublesome and unprofitable burden.

He was more concerned with establishing an unshakeable authority, an order that would make the tribes of the steppe "know their place," and then directing his main efforts toward more distant and attractive goals.

Moreover, upon calm reflection, history seems to corroborate this point.

Nearly three hundred years ago, Emperor Taizu Zhu Yuanzhang drove the Yuan Dynasty back to the northern deserts, and the Han cavalry also penetrated deep into the grasslands, sweeping away their strongholds.

Ultimately, however, the Ming Dynasty did not choose to establish long-term, direct county-level rule on the grasslands. Instead, it built the Great Wall and established a system of tribute and trade.

The reason is not complicated: for Han Chinese dynasties that relied on agriculture, governing the grasslands was too costly and yielded too little benefit. The Han people were not good at herding and were not accustomed to living by following water and pasture. After conquering the grasslands, it would require sending large armies and consuming countless amounts of money and grain, but it would be difficult to obtain commensurate taxes and output.

Over time, it became a bottomless pit that bankrupted the treasury. (End of Chapter)