Chapter 206: The Empress of Western Xia

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More than a month after Xingqing City was besieged, people began dying of starvation or exposure on the streets.

After deliberation, Emperor Li Qianshun and his ministers set up grain distribution centers and firewood sales points, selling part of the imperial storehouses' grain and charcoal to the populace.

However, Li Qianshun and his ministers knew they could not hold out much longer; these life-saving supplies would grow ever more precious, so they decreed that each person could buy no more than five sheng of grain per month and no more than five jin of firewood, sold at one-tenth the market price.

Once the news spread, the people of Xingqing rushed to the grain and charcoal markets—nobles and commoners alike—all came to buy rice and firewood.

On the same day, fearing the populace had no money to buy grain or firewood, Li Qianshun and his ministers posted edicts ordering former pawnshop owners to reopen their businesses; those who refused would be reported, with a reward of fifty guan.

Since the city's fall, all pawnshops had closed; no merchant showed interest in or obeyed this imperial decree.

With no alternative, Li Qianshun and his ministers dispatched officials to seize control of these pawnshops, even establishing new ones, buying items from the people at high prices, then selling back imperial-controlled grain, firewood, and charcoal at low prices to sustain the city's lifeline.

Yet even this could not halt the shadow of death hovering over Xingqing City.

Soon, streets and alleys were littered with corpses; wails echoed everywhere, a desolate scene too heartbreaking to witness. Children's frail bodies trembled in the cold wind; elders' eyes filled with despair and helplessness. Once-bustling markets now held only empty shops and tightly shut doors. Occasional sobs echoed like the city's final cry.

Inside the palace.

Li Qianshun sat beneath dim candlelight, brow furrowed, eyes heavy with anxiety and exhaustion. He knew the court's meager relief could not save Xingqing. Outside, Song troops pressed forward with high morale; within, morale collapsed, the people scattered—the defeat was inevitable. Xingqing's fall was merely a matter of time.

Yet as the last emperor of Western Xia, how could Li Qianshun lightly surrender?

To surrender meant admitting that generations of his family's bloody struggle, their conquest and expansion, had been a delusion—burying their ancestors' glory and sacrifice in the dust of history.

Worse still, it meant placing himself and all of the Li clan upon Zhao Yu's chopping block, at the mercy of the very master they had betrayed, repeatedly challenged, provoked, plundered, and slaughtered.

Therefore, surrender was absolutely impossible.

Li Qianshun clenched his fist, nails digging deep into his palm; the pain kept him sharply awake. He knew he bore not only his own honor and shame, but the rise and fall of the Li clan, and the very survival of Western Xia.

Night fell; Xingqing's walls, under faint moonlight, appeared especially desolate.

Li Qianshun rose and walked slowly to the window, gazing at the flickering lanterns of the Song encampments beyond, his heart a tangle of emotions.

He recalled his ancestors' glory and bloodshed on this land—every battle, every victory, vivid as if before his eyes.

Now, all of it would vanish—how could he not be heartbroken?

"Your Majesty, it is time to rest."

Behind him, Empress Yelu Nanxian whispered a reminder.

Yelu Nanxian's brows arched like distant mountains veiled in mist, her eyes clear as stars hidden in depth, shifting between resolve and tenderness. Her nose was high and straight, lips full and vivid, her facial contours elegant and flowing. Her black hair cascaded like a waterfall, adorned with noble headdress, clad in an empress's robe embroidered with intricate flowers; every gesture carried the boldness of a steppe woman and the dignity of a palace sovereign.

To this beauty, Li Qianshun's gaze held not admiration, but revulsion—deep, unyielding revulsion.

This revulsion was so obvious, it had reached the point where Yelu Nanxian could not pretend not to see it.

Yelu Nanxian understood clearly: Li Qianshun did not hate her, but the Liao Empire behind her—he hated her by association.

Yelu Nanxian understood Li Qianshun. He married her not for her, but for the support of the Liao Empire.

For this, Li Qianshun had begged the Liao Empire for four years—yet as Western Xia neared collapse, Liao sent not a single soldier.

To Li Qianshun, Western Xia had always fought for Liao, always tied down the Zhao Song dynasty; Liao's aid to Western Xia was its duty. If Western Xia fell, Liao would fall too—they were interdependent.

Li Qianshun seethed with resentment. He believed Western Xia soldiers bled on the frontlines, sacrificing lives and blood against Zhao Song, building Liao's defensive wall; Western Xia sent its finest troops, its most talented sons and daughters to the battlefield, bearing immense casualties and economic loss.

And Liao? It offered no aid—only empty promises. Compared to Western Xia's sacrifices, it was negligible.

Li Qianshun felt Liao's decisions were too hesitant and cautious, failing to grant Western Xia the full support it deserved. On critical issues like sending reinforcements, Liao always hesitated, even considering Zhao Song's stance—leaving Western Xia heartbroken.

Li Qianshun believed Liao, as a great power equal to Zhao Song and leader of their alliance, should have played a far greater role in this war, offering Western Xia firm, powerful backing.

Yet reality left Li Qianshun deeply disappointed: Liao's stance on sending troops to aid Western Xia remained cautious, and even its political support fluctuated in intensity and consistency.

This made Western Xia's resistance against Zhao Song excruciatingly difficult.

Deep within Li Qianshun's heart lay the disappointment of unfulfilled hopes, coupled with desperate longing for Liao to increase its support and help Western Xia win this war.

Amid this agonizing turmoil, Li Qianshun finally secured his marriage to Yelu Nanxian—and persuaded Liao to mobilize troops to deter Zhao Song.

But what happened? As Song armies ravaged Western Xia, Liao troops merely stood at the gate, refusing to lift a finger.

At the start of their marriage, Li Qianshun had treated Yelu Nanxian with great respect, fearing her fatigue from travel, her discomfort in this foreign land, and her fragile health—he had never touched her, maintaining perfect propriety.

Li Qianshun believed this would make Yelu Nanxian speak well of Western Xia, urging the Liao troops already at the border to descend and aid Western Xia against the Song.

But the greater the hope, the deeper the disappointment.

Even after Western Xia lost most of its territory, Yelu Nanxian never wrote a single letter to Liao requesting Yelu Yanxi order troops into Western Xia.

Later, the Liao troops, once a faint deterrent, were outright recalled by Liao.

Only then did Yelu Nanxian send a tepid letter to Liao, requesting Yelu Yanxi send reinforcements.

But the child is dead—now you come to nurse? What good is that?

Worse, her plea merely analyzed the strategic interdependence of Liao and Xia—it contained none of the emotional appeal Li Qianshun had hoped for: no appeal from family ties, no use of her personal influence over Yelu Yanxi to sway him into sending troops.

Li Qianshun had already explained this clearly and plainly to Yelu Yanxi—if it had worked, Yelu Yanxi would have sent troops long ago.

To Li Qianshun, Yelu Nanxian lacked sincerity in aiding Western Xia—she was unworthy to be Western Xia's Empress.

Soon, Li Qianshun was forced to retreat with his shattered troops to Xingqing, making a last stand.

At that time, Li Qianshun still hoped Liao would send troops, and asked Yelu Nanxian to join him in writing a plea to Yelu Yanxi.

But Yelu Nanxian refused to write it.

This enraged Li Qianshun to the point of grinding his teeth—he had to have someone impersonate Yelu Nanxian's voice to write the plea, begging Yelu Yanxi to aid Western Xia out of alliance loyalty and for Yelu Nanxian's sake.

Yet every plea Li Qianshun sent vanished into silence.

He said nothing aloud, but inwardly he knew: Liao would not send troops. Western Xia was finished.

In this situation, what use was Yelu Nanxian, this so-called Empress of Western Xia?

To be blunt: were it not for needing her to keep the people of Xingqing hopeful, Li Qianshun would have killed her long ago.

Without exaggeration, Li Qianshun now could not bear to look at Yelu Nanxian.

So, facing her sudden kindness, Li Qianshun coldly said: "What do you want? Did I not tell you not to leave Kunninggong unless necessary?"

Yelu Nanxian knew well: their union was a purely political marriage—there was no affection between them, and none needed; only interests mattered.

But then again, Yelu Nanxian and Li Qianshun were husband and wife; she truly did not want their relationship to be so pure, so heartless, to the point that once she had no value to him, Li Qianshun would discard her without hesitation.

Moreover, Yelu Nanxian had her own hardships.

Li Qianshun was an outsider—he had never even met Yelu Yanxi—how could he know just how foolish and absurd Yelu Yanxi was? Furthermore, Li Qianshun had vastly overestimated the status this royal clan woman held in Liao, in Yelu Yanxi's eyes.

Put it this way: if Western Xia were powerful, Yelu Nanxian might still hold some standing in Liao and with Li Qianshun, and her words might carry some weight; but now, with Western Xia on the verge of collapse, Yelu Nanxian's words before Yelu Yanxi were worth no more than flatulence.

The reason Yelu Nanxian refused to write letters to Yelu Yanxi or anyone else, begging Liao to send troops to rescue Western Xia, was because she was proud, possessed an extremely strong sense of self-respect; she did not wish to humiliate herself, nor did she wish to give those who had always disapproved of her marriage to Western Xia the satisfaction of laughing at her.

Crucially, Yelu Nanxian knew full well that neither she nor anyone she knew could influence Yelu Yanxi—especially after she learned that Yelu Yanxi had given Xiao Sese to Zhao Yu; she understood clearly that no matter what she said, Yelu Yanxi would never send troops to rescue Western Xia.

Yelu Nanxian admitted that this gamble of hers—irrevocably marrying into Western Xia as it teetered on the brink of ruin—had lost.

But Yelu Nanxian was also a woman of heroic spirit; she was willing to pay the price for her choice—that is, willing to stand by Li Qianshun and accept the consequences of their nation's fall.

Of course, if Western Xia somehow survived this crisis, Yelu Nanxian would claim what she was due.

Therefore, Yelu Nanxian wished to speak earnestly with Li Qianshun, hoping they could unite and weather this hardship together—or even die together.

In fact, she had already prepared herself mentally to die as Western Xia's Empress, to perish alongside her husband Li Qianshun and her nation.

In Yelu Nanxian's view, since she had made such preparations, Li Qianshun should no longer dwell on Liao's failure to send reinforcements—it would change nothing.

Yelu Nanxian wished to speak earnestly with Li Qianshun, which was why she had come to him, humbling herself.

At this moment, facing Li Qianshun's coldness, Yelu Nanxian forced herself to speak calmly: "Your Majesty, I have some heartfelt words I must speak—"

But Li Qianshun had no intention of speaking with Yelu Nanxian. To him, her only value lay in her connection to Liao; now that Liao was utterly beyond his reach, she had no use at all—not worth even a single moment of his time.

Precisely because of this, Li Qianshun cut her off harshly: "Go back!"

Yelu Nanxian tried once more, softening her tone by three degrees: "Your Majesty…"

To Yelu Nanxian's utter shock, Li Qianshun placed his hand on the hilt of the sword beside the table, his murderous intent unmistakable, coldly growling: "Get out!!!"

Yelu Nanxian's heart tightened! She felt it clearly—if she dared utter another word, Li Qianshun might kill her on the spot.

Yelu Nanxian was furious and bewildered. She did not understand why Li Qianshun could be so heartless toward her? Wasn't it said that even a day of marriage brings a hundred days of affection? Well, she and Li Qianshun had not yet consummated their marriage—but that still wasn't reason enough for him to want her dead!

Li Qianshun's cruelty shattered Yelu Nanxian's last hope. He never regarded her as his Empress; the Western Xia people held her in no esteem—why should she die for him, for Western Xia?

Yelu Nanxian said nothing more. She silently retreated to Kunninggong, quietly awaiting Western Xia's demise.

Time passed slowly under the torment of those in Xingqing Prefecture.

By March.

With Jingcheng besieged for so long, food grew ever scarcer, prices soared.

Starving, freezing, destitute people had begun looting corpses, cutting flesh from the dead to eat.

Upon learning this, the Western Xia court immediately posted edicts to stop it: "Corpses exposed on the streets—anyone who dares to strip them shall be reported, and the informant shall be rewarded fifty strings of cash."

Yet this did nothing to deter those who carved and devoured human flesh; they paid no heed to the court's edicts. They not only continued eating human meat, but even sold it—eight hundred and fifty cash per catty.

This monstrous, inhuman tragedy left Li Qianshun and his ministers deeply uneasy.

Soon, Li Qianshun issued an edict to confiscate the estates of high officials, aristocrats, wealthy clans, and merchant magnates who had proposed surrender; all their grain was sold at low prices to the destitute, their homes demolished, and firewood sold cheaply to help the poor stay warm.

Yet this meager amount of rice and firewood was but a drop in the ocean for a capital city of hundreds of thousands of soldiers and civilians—it solved nothing.

By April.

The weather grew warmer day by day; the ice sealing Xingqing began to melt.

The city's food reserves were nearly gone.

Outside the walls, cannibalism had become commonplace.

The people within the city had reached the breaking point.

Everyone inside and outside the city knew: Xingqing could not hold out. Western Xia would soon lose its final city, vanishing forever from history…

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(End of Chapter)