Rise of a Lonely City: From Exiled Prince to Ruler of the Nine Provinces

Winter of the nineteenth year of Yonghe.

The Imperial City of the Great Xia Dynasty, the Chengtian Hall.

The gilded dragon pillar gleamed coldly in the morning light, and civil and military officials stood in silence on both sides.

The aroma of ambergris mingled with the smell of burning charcoal in the hall, yet it could not dispel the bone-chilling cold.

It's not because the weather is cold.

It's because people's hearts are cold.

"Your subject requests that Hanyuan City be granted a fief."

A clear voice broke the silence, like a pebble thrown into an icy lake.

All the officials and civil servants looked up and focused their gazes on the young man in blue kneeling in the hall.

The Seventh Prince, Xiao Chen.

At sixteen, with a figure as thin as paper, he knelt on the cold gold bricks, yet his back remained ramrod straight.

He was wearing a worn-out prince's robe, the cuffs of which were faded from washing, making him stand out awkwardly amidst the brocade and splendor of the hall.

"What did you say?" A deep voice came from the dragon throne.

Emperor Wu of Xia, Xiao Yan, is fifty-three years old this year, and his temples are already frosted with white.

He leaned forward slightly, the jade beads hanging from his crown swaying, obscuring the expression in his eyes.

Xiao Chen kowtowed, his forehead touching the ground: "Your subject requests to be granted the city of Hanyuan, and is willing to guard the northern border for Father Emperor, to secure the frontier forever."

As soon as he finished speaking, suppressed gasps filled the hall.

"Hanyuan City?"

On the left side of the civil officials' line, Wang Huanzhi, the Minister of Revenue, exclaimed, "That's...!"

He didn't finish his sentence, but everyone knew the rest.

That was the northernmost, most barren, and most desolate wasteland of the Great Xia Dynasty.

Snow falls in August, and the earth freezes in December.

The land is frozen for six months of the year, and the soil is so barren that even weeds cannot grow tall.

For miles around, there was no sign of human habitation, only livestock that had frozen to death and wolves driven mad by hunger.

Not to mention that to the north are grassland tribes that raid every autumn, killing countless people.

That's a place even death row inmates wouldn't want to go.

"Seventh brother, what's wrong...?"

The Fourth Prince, Xiao Jing, chuckled. Standing at the head of the princes' procession, clad in a crimson prince's robe, jade belt, and golden crown, he said, "Hanyuan City? Perhaps you were still half asleep last night and are talking nonsense?"

His voice wasn't loud, but it was loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear clearly.

The sixth prince, Xiao Yun, lowered his eyes, but a faint smile appeared on his lips.

He always sang along with his fourth brother, so he naturally wouldn't speak at this moment, but his expression was more piercing than any direct sarcasm.

Xiao Chen did not look up.

His gaze fell on the patterns on the gold bricks before him, which were carved with auspicious clouds and coiled dragons, each line as exquisite as a work of art.

In his past life, he had seen something similar in a museum, separated by glass and a thousand years.

And now, he kneels on this pattern.

Three months after arriving from another world, he tried to change things.

When he tried to display his talent in the study, he was met with the remark, "A prince should establish himself through virtue, not through trivial literary pursuits."

He tried to practice his archery skills diligently at the archery range, only to be told, "Seventh Brother is working so hard, could it be that he wants to emulate Huo Qubing's sealing of the wolf's lair? What a pity, our Great Xia is in a peaceful and prosperous era, we don't need that."

He tried to offer his advice at a palace banquet on controlling the floods in Jiangnan, but before he could finish speaking, the Fourth Prince interrupted him: "Seventh Brother, what book did you read this from? Controlling the river is a serious matter, not child's play!"

Once, twice, three times.

He finally understood.

It's not that he's not good enough.

He shouldn't be so outstanding.

His birth mother was a palace maid who came from the laundry department and was demoted to the cold palace.

She had no maternal clan, no powerful backers, and not even a proper name—Chen, the place where the Big Dipper is located, the residence of emperors.

The name was chosen arbitrarily by the Imperial Observatory, which is quite ironic.

In this cannibalistic palace, for a prince without any power base to display his talent is tantamount to courting death.

So when the emperor summoned all the adult princes to the palace three days ago, implying that "the princes are getting older and should be sent to their fiefs for training," Xiao Chen knew that his opportunity had arrived.

The only way out.

"Father,"

He kowtowed again, his voice calmer than that of a sixteen-year-old boy, "Your subject has consulted the classics."

Although Hanyuan City is bitterly cold, it is the northern gateway to our Great Xia.

In recent years, grassland tribes have repeatedly invaded the south, leaving the border defenses weak.

Your subject wishes to emulate the wise kings of old, to serve as a bulwark for the royal family, even unto death.

The word "death" was uttered, and the hall fell silent once more.

Emperor Wu of Xia stared at the prince's son.

These were the seven sons he had barely even glanced at.

so similar.

Those eyebrows, those straight noses, they look so much like that woman.

That meek and submissive palace maid who never dared to look up at him.

The only time I dared to do something bold was on that snowy night when I grabbed his sleeve.

Then this child came into being.

Over the years, he had almost forgotten that he had this son.

Until today, until this very moment.

"Do you know," the emperor began slowly, "that last year, Hanyuan City reported that over three hundred people froze to death, more than half of the population fled, the city's garrison numbered less than two hundred, and seven sections of the city wall collapsed?"

"Your subject understands."

"Did you know that last month, an urgent message arrived from the northern border: the Canglang tribe's cavalry raided the border, besieging Hanyuan City for three days and nearly causing its fall?"

"Your subject understands."

"Do you know," the emperor's voice suddenly turned cold, "that you have been banished to Hanyuan and are not permitted to return to the capital without an imperial edict. You may never see the capital's splendor again in your life?"

Xiao Chen finally raised his head.

His gaze passed through the tassels and beads of the crown, meeting that of the emperor on the dragon throne.

At that moment, Emperor Wu of Xia suddenly felt somewhat dazed.

The child's eyes were so bright, so bright that they didn't seem like he was begging for death, but rather... begging for life.

"Your subject understands."

Xiao Chen said slowly and deliberately, "It is precisely because the Cold Abyss is in danger that the prince is needed to guard it."

Your subject is willing to use his own flesh and blood to build a barrier for the northern border.

On this journey, I shall emulate Ban Chao of the Han Dynasty, who abandoned his pen for the sword, and Xuan Ce of the Tang Dynasty, who went on a solitary mission to a foreign land.

If the Cold Abyss is at peace, then the Northern Border is at peace; if the Northern Border is at peace, then Great Xia is at peace.

The hall was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

These words were too harsh.

The weight of the words left even the Fourth Prince speechless for a moment.

The sixth prince, Xiao Yun, finally raised his eyes and carefully examined his previously unremarkable seventh brother.

He suddenly felt that something was wrong.

This was not the cowardly and silent Xiao Chen he knew.

Emperor Wu of Xia remained silent for a long time.

So long that the charcoal fire in the hall almost went out.

Finally, he slowly leaned back on the dragon throne and waved his hand: "Granted."

Two words, light as a feather, yet as powerful as a thunderclap.

"Effective immediately, the Seventh Prince Xiao Chen is hereby granted the title of Prince of Jingbei and shall be enfeoffed in Hanyuan City."

He was granted the status of a Prince of the Second Rank, with an annual salary of two thousand shi (a unit of grain), and three hundred guards…

The emperor paused, his gaze sweeping across the hall. "Ministry of War, allocate three hundred veteran soldiers from the Beijing Garrison. Ministry of Revenue, allocate five thousand taels of silver for their resettlement. They shall depart in three days."

"Your subject thanks Your Majesty for your great kindness." Xiao Chen kowtowed.

He closed his eyes briefly as his forehead touched the ground.

It became.

The Minister of War and the Minister of Revenue stepped forward to receive the imperial decree. They exchanged a glance and both saw the complexity in each other's eyes.

Three hundred old soldiers? Those were seasoned veterans in the Beijing garrison, over fifty years old, riddled with injuries and illnesses, waiting to retire.

Five thousand taels? Hanyuan City is three thousand miles away from the capital. The travel expenses alone would take up most of it.

Not to mention settling down and establishing a residence.

This is hardly a matter of bestowing a title and granting fiefdoms.

This is clearly...exile.

But no one spoke.

The fourth prince couldn't suppress the smile on his lips.

It's always good to have one less competitor.

Even if this opponent was never really an opponent.

The sixth prince lowered his eyes and twirled the prayer beads in his sleeve with his fingertips.

He wondered if the seventh brother would survive the first winter.

The bell tolled to signal the end of the court session.

The officials exited Chengtian Hall in turn.

Xiao Chen was walking at the back, and as soon as he stepped out of the palace gate, he was called back.

"Seventh Brother, please wait."

The fourth prince, Xiao Jing, stood with his hands behind his back on the white marble steps.

The pale winter sun shone on him, making his princely robes dazzlingly bright.

"Fourth Brother." Xiao Chen stopped and bowed.

"The cold of Hanyuan is bitter," Xiao Jing approached and patted his shoulder firmly. "Seventh Brother, you must prepare plenty of fur coats and charcoal for your journey. If you can't hold on... remember to write back to the capital. As an older brother, I can't just watch my younger brother freeze to death out there, can I?"

The words were meant to be caring, but the tone was undisguised mockery.

"Thank you for your concern, Fourth Brother."

Xiao Chen's expression remained unchanged. "Though the northern border is cold, it is not as cold as the human heart. Fourth Brother, please take good care of yourself in the capital."

Xiao Jing's smile froze.

Before he could say anything more, the Sixth Prince, Xiao Yun, slowly approached: "Fourth Brother, Seventh Brother will be setting off in three days. He must have many things to prepare. Let's not delay him."

As he spoke, he looked at Xiao Chen and smiled gently: "Seventh brother, take care on your journey. The wind is strong in the North, remember... to stand firm."

There's more to that than meets the eye.

Xiao Chen gave this sixth brother a deep look.

Of the six adult princes, this one is the most unfathomable.

He always appears gentle and refined, but his methods behind the scenes are more ruthless than anyone else's.

"Thank you for your guidance, Sixth Brother." He cupped his hands in thanks.

As he turned to go down the steps, he heard a faint conversation behind him.

"...courting suicide..."

"...won't survive the winter..."

The voice was very low, but he heard it.

Xiao Chen walked down the ninety-nine white marble steps of Chengtian Hall without looking back.

Outside the palace gates, three figures waited for him in the cold wind.

The old housekeeper, Uncle Fu, had gray hair and a slightly hunched back. He rubbed his hands together and kept stamping his feet.

The lame guard, Zhao Tie, leaned on a wooden cane, but his back was ramrod straight.

The mute coachman, Amu, wore a tattered cotton-padded coat and led a thin horse with a half-worn carriage on its back.

That was all his possessions.

"Your Highness..." Uncle Fu greeted him, his old eyes filled with worry.

"Return to the manor," Xiao Chen said, uttering only two words.

As he boarded the carriage, he lifted the curtain and took one last look at the majestic imperial city.

The vermilion walls and golden tiles, layer upon layer, resemble a giant beast crouching between heaven and earth.

Today, he opened the door to the cage that had imprisoned him for sixteen years.

They weren't kicked out.

It's about going out on your own.

The carriage slowly drove away from the palace gate, rolling over the bluestone imperial road with a monotonous rumbling sound.

Inside the carriage, Xiao Chen closed his eyes.

Memories of my past life came flooding back like a tide.

A PhD in History, specializing in ancient military and institutional studies.

He spent ten years in the library, wrote a million-word thesis, and finally died suddenly at his desk.

When he opened his eyes again, he had become this prince in the cold palace.

In three months, he figured out the rules of this world: the Great Xia Dynasty was similar to the Tang and Song Dynasties he knew, but the course of history was different.

The level of technology was roughly equivalent to that of the Sui and Tang dynasties. Gunpowder had not yet been used for military purposes, navigation technology was primitive, land annexation was severe, and border troubles were constant.

And Hanyuan City...

A map came to mind.

It was drawn by him over countless nights, based on the books in the palace collection and his memories from his previous life.

Northern terrain, resource distribution, tribal activity range...

"Hanyuan City," he murmured to himself, "is located at 48 degrees north latitude, with long winters, but it has underground coal mines."

Beneath the permafrost, there are associated iron ore deposits.

Three hundred miles to the north lies the Hulun Grassland, a place of abundant water and grass, and a breeding ground for warhorses.

Four hundred li to the east, there is an outlet to the sea…

It's not a dead end.

It is a treasure land.

But no one recognized it.

"Your Highness," Uncle Fu whispered from outside, "we've arrived."

Xiao Chen opened his eyes.

Before me was a secluded palace garden, without even a plaque above the gate.

This was his residence in the palace; it was more like a secluded palace than a prince's mansion.

Pushing open the door, I saw a thin layer of snow in the courtyard, and two withered trees standing in the corner, their branches reaching towards the sky like ghostly claws.

The charcoal brazier inside was about to go out, and the room was as cold as an ice cellar.

"Pack your things."

Xiao Chen took off his princely robes and changed into ordinary cotton clothes. "I'll only bring the necessities."

Books, medicinal herbs, and tools.

Those that are all show and no substance, keep them all.

"Your Highness, are you not taking the gifts bestowed upon you by the Emperor?" Uncle Fu asked.

"No, I won't bring it."

Xiao Chen shook his head. "Hanyuan City doesn't recognize these things."

He walked to the desk, where a simple map was spread out.

The fingertip landed on that spot in the North.

Cold Abyss.

His starting point.

It is also the burial place of those people...

It's snowing again outside the window.

Fine snowflakes drifted down, covering the golden tiles and red walls of the imperial city, and also the distant mountains and rivers.

Xiao Chen pushed open the window, and a cold wind rushed in, dispelling the last bit of warmth in the room.

But he laughed.

His laughter was both cold and passionate.

"This world,"

Facing the swirling snow, he whispered, "I've come."