Chapter 211

The girl took off her little boots, a pair of snow-white, tender ** displayed without reservation before them, moving her steps, the golden Palace Bell above her ankle rang out with a rhythmic clear sound.

She spun in place, her golden cape fluttering up with her movements, then immediately falling off her body like a piece of cloud, a red bandeau and red long dress wrapping a snow-white, alluring sensual **.

Accompanied by the beating of Mosali's hand drum, the girl began to sway her alluring body.

Hu Xiaotian had just taken a sip of water into his mouth, forgetting to swallow it; he never imagined he would ever get to see a belly dance in his lifetime. The dancer, accompanied by the hand drum's ever-changing rhythm, moved her abdomen, swayed her full, round pert butt, her limbs making intricate, sensual motions—cross‑swaying poses sometimes elegant, sometimes sensual, charming and gentle, mysterious and sexy.

Hu Xiaotian was dazzled; though he could barely call himself an expert in appreciating belly dance, having seen some masters before, compared to the dancer before him, those past performers could only be described as elementary.

The dancer moved her flawless figure to the rhythm with abandon—like flowing water, like waves; at intense moments like flickering flames, she fully expressed the beauty of rhythm with her body, her arms like angel's wings, her torso like a twisting serpent, her movements full of wild and seductive charm.

The drumbeat grew ever fiercer, the dancer's pose ever wilder, every inch of her skin trembling, conveying to the audience an indescribable allure.

Gloop—, Hu Xiaotian finally swallowed the mouthful of tea he had held for a while, glanced aside at Long Yeqing beside him, seeing Long Yeqing's brows tightly knit, showing no particular excitement. He immediately realized Long Yeqing probably couldn't appreciate this exotic dance; although the girl was sensual and alluring, she seemed not to his taste—Mosali's flattery had landed on the horse's hooves.

Mosali must have realized it too, changing the hand drum's rhythm a few times, quickly moving to the finale; after a series of continuous spinning moves, the dancer ended with a kneeling backward lean.

Hu Xiaotian clapped and cheered. But he soon noticed Long Yeqing hadn't moved a hand, secretly laughing that this guy truly had no taste.

Mosali said: "Weisa! Greetings, Zhou Wang, Thousand Years!"

The dancer clasped her hands in salute to Zhou Wang, and as she lifted her head she removed her veil.

Hu Xiaotian saw clearly: this girl had a typical Western visage—blond hair, blue eyes, high nose, deep-set eyes, full sensual lips—but it didn't match Dakang's common aesthetic, which now favored cherry‑small mouths. She was utterly a modern fashion type, no wonder Long Yeqing wasn't taken with her.

Compared to Long Yeqing's narrow aesthetic, Hu Xiaotian's is far broader; this girl, if placed in modern times, would definitely be a great beauty meeting international standards, looking somewhat like the peak appearance of young Brigitte Lin.

People's aesthetic tastes indeed differ; although Long Yeqing professionally admitted Weisa's dance was alluring and charming, he felt strange about her appearance, and seeing this beauty whom Hu Xiaotian thought could grace the international stage gave him no pleasure at all.

Mosali said: "This girl is a female slave captured by the Khagan from the Faya tribe. Because her dance is outstanding and her beauty lovely, he specially brought her to present to Zhou Wang, Thousand Years."

Zhou Wang said: "Please thank the Khagan for his goodwill." He sized up Weisa from head to toe with a few glances, then added: "Mosali, since you've presented her to me, does that mean I am her master?"

Mosali respectfully replied: "Exactly so; from now on she is Your Highness's private property, and you have the right to dispose of her as you wish."

Hu Xiaotian secretly envied; being a prince is not bad—actually being able to enjoy such boundless romantic fortune.

Zhou Wang said: "Then I'll give her to my best friend!" He pointed at Hu Xiaotian beside him.

Hu Xiaotian felt as if a bolt from the blue had struck him, his head instantly going blank—could it be a pie falling from the sky? How could such good fortune land on his head? Could it be that Zhou Wang, being amorous, has no reason to give me such a big advantage? Or perhaps this foreign beauty simply doesn't suit his taste? It's a sugar‑coated cannonball—no, a sugar‑coated meat bomb, this meat bomb is even more tempting than the sugar coating. Hu Xiaotian's first reaction was to refuse, but facing Mosali he couldn't say it outright; to say so would be to deny Zhou Wang face.

Mosali was obviously also stunned by Zhou Wang's move; he had clearly intended to give this slave to Long Yeqing's side, but right in front of him he transferred her to this young whippersnapper beside him, not knowing who Hu Xiaotian was; although he had said after presenting the gift to Zhou Wang he would have full disposal of her, doing this to his face was frankly too disrespectful.

Mosali actually had another motive: first give the slave to Zhou Wang, then after reaching Kangdu spread the rumor that the slave was originally meant for the Dakang emperor, that Zhou Wang, lusting after her beauty, had seized her for himself, thereby sowing discord between father and son—but he never expected Zhou Wang to pull this stunt. Mosali's plot was thwarted before it even began; this deal turned out to be a total loss.

Mosali said: "Your Highness, this girl is a gift from the Khagan to you." He deliberately emphasized it to remind Zhou Wang that doing so was a breach of etiquette.

Zhou Wang smiled: "Go back and thank your Khagan for me; Xiao Tian is my best friend and also a senior official of Dakang—I'm giving this slave to him, which should be fine, right?"

Hu Xiaotian's favor toward Long Yeqing increased because of those words, yet this guy was exaggerating—when did I become your best friend? Besides, I'm just a low‑rank sesame‑seed official; no way I count as a senior Dakang official.

Mosali gave Hu Xiaotian a cold glance, thinking: 'How can this guy not even be polite? Zhou Wang gave him a gift, and he just accepted it so readily.'

Weisa stood there tall and graceful, but she couldn't understand a word they said; she could only guess from their facial expressions what they were discussing, though she knew in her heart that whatever they talked about was surely related to her future fate.

Mosali slowly rose, his complexion somewhat unsightly, and said in a low voice: 'I'll take my leave.' Tonight's gift‑bearing mission had utterly failed to achieve its aim; truly it was a case of losing the wife and losing the troops.

"Xiao Tian, help me see Mosali off!"

Hu Xiaotian hurriedly rose to help Zhou Wang see off the guest; Long Yeqing's side, throughout the evening's meeting, still bore an imposing air—though Shajia had recently grown stronger, compared to Dakang, a vast great state, it still seemed barbaric, so Long Yeqing himself retained a deep‑seated sense of superiority; if Shajia had sent a king, Long Yeqing's attitude would have been more courteous, but the other side sent only an official in charge of rites and sacrifices, at most equivalent to Dakang's Minister of Rites, and for him to personally come to the border to welcome them was rather overkill. Between states, courtesy demands reciprocity—you respect me a foot, I'll respect you a yard. Long Yeqing felt the Shajia envoy had not shown enough sincerity, which is why he expressed his displeasure.

Hu Xiaotian escorted Mosali outside; Mosali's sullen face showed no sign of easing, and he coldly stared at Hu Xiaotian, saying: 'May I ask your esteemed surname, sir?'

Hu Xiaotian smiled: 'No need for the surname—it's Hu.'

Mosali silently recited Hu Xiaotian's name in his mind; to him the name was utterly unfamiliar, and among his impression of Dakang senior officials there was no such person. He snorted and said: 'Please excuse my ignorance—I don't know where Lord Hu is stationed or what office he holds.' Mosali's Chinese was quite fluent, with no trace of a foreign accent.

Hu Xiaotian laughed: 'Right here—in Qingyun Xian of Xiezhou Prefecture, Xichuan, Dakang—I am the county magistrate.'

Mosali finally realized that this young whippersnapper was merely a low‑rank sesame‑seed official; instantly his facial muscles twisted with anger—Zhou Wang had actually taken the gift he had given him and passed it on to a low‑rank sesame‑seed official, clearly slighting his nation; fuming, he wouldn't even utter another word to Hu Xiaotian, and flicked his sleeves away in a huff.

Hu Xiaotian also knew why they were angry—surely they despised his lowly post, and the gift had been wasted.

Back in the room, he saw Weisa still standing in a corner, looking pitifully at her feet. Still bare‑footed **, she hadn't had time to put on her exquisitely embroidered little boots.

Hu Xiaotian bowed deeply to Zhou Wang and said: 'Your Highness, I have seen the envoy off.'

Zhou Wang said: 'It's late; you should go rest as well. Come the day after tomorrow morning to accompany me to Xiezhou.'

"What?" Hu Xiaotian's scalp tightened—this seventeenth prince is rather unreliable, doing whatever comes to mind without even asking me beforehand, suddenly telling me to accompany him to Xiezhou. But Hu Xiaotian immediately realized that, nine times out of ten, he's heading to Xiezhou to visit the Huan Cai Ge pavilion to see Xi Yan; truly he's deep‑in‑love, the sort who won't turn back until he hits a wall.

Hu Xiaotian dared not ask further; since Zhou Wang had proposed it, it was already settled. He acknowledged with a sound, said his farewells, and turned to leave—after just two steps, Long Yeqing called him back: 'Take the gift the prince gave you with you.'

Hu Xiaotian looked at Weisa standing there; coincidentally, Weisa was also looking pitifully at him. Everyone has self‑esteem; she knew she had been brought here to be presented to the Dakang emperor, yet that emperor didn't even glance at her before handing her over to his subordinate—and from the looks of it, that subordinate also seemed uninterested in her, preparing to abandon her, which was truly a wound to her self‑respect.

Hu Xiaotian respectfully said: 'Your Highness, such a precious gift—I cannot afford to accept it.' To be honest he really did want it, but the gift was simply too valuable; Zhou Wang, being a sentimental sort, made it hard to believe his earlier actions weren't just for show—flexing his muscles, irritating the envoy—now that Mosali had left, Hu Xiaotian naturally had to put on a polite refusal.

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