Dragon's Fire Consort
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 12
Lady Chen arrived three days later with an entourage that would have made lesser nobles jealous.
Zhang Mei watched from a palace window as the procession entered—twenty servants, guards in polished armor, wagons of belongings. At the center, a palanquin carried by six men.
Elaborate. Expensive. A statement of power and status.
The palanquin curtains parted, and Lady Chen emerged.
She was beautiful—that was Zhang Mei’s first thought. Tall for a Chinese woman, elegant in deep blue silk embroidered with silver phoenixes, her hair styled in intricate coils adorned with jade ornaments. Mid-twenties, poised, moving with the confidence of someone who’d never doubted her place in the world.
Zhang Mei’s second thought: threat assessment.
Zhao stood waiting to greet her, all courtesy and charm. But Zhang Mei noticed Lady Chen’s gaze sweep past him, cataloging the palace, the guards, the political landscape with sharp intelligence.
Not just a pretty decoration, then.
“Captain.”
Zhang Mei turned. Liang stood in the doorway, also watching the arrival. His expression was carefully neutral.
“First impressions?” he asked.
“She’s smart. Observant. Playing a role but aware of it.” Zhang Mei studied Lady Chen’s interactions. “Could be genuine. Could be a very good actress.”
“We’ll find out soon enough. Father has arranged a formal dinner tonight. All of us.”
“All of us” meant Crown Prince Zhao, Lady Chen, Liang, and Zhang Mei. An intimate gathering to assess compatibility.
Also a perfect opportunity for Zhao to maneuver.
“What’s our strategy?” Zhang Mei asked.
“We evaluate her honestly. If she’s Zhao’s tool, we’ll see it. If she’s genuine...” He trailed off.
“If she’s genuine, you consider the marriage.”
“Yes.”
The word hung between them. Zhang Mei told herself it didn’t matter. Their partnership was professional. Tactical. Nothing more.
The lie was getting harder to maintain.
The dinner was held in Zhao’s quarters—another power play, hosting on his territory. The space was even more elaborate than Zhang Mei remembered, every surface displaying wealth and taste.
Lady Chen was already seated when they arrived, conversing easily with Zhao. She looked up as they entered, and her eyes went immediately to Zhang Mei.
Not to Liang. To Zhang Mei.
Interesting.
“Prince Liang,” Lady Chen stood, bowed gracefully. “I’m honored to meet you. Your military achievements are renowned throughout the empire.”
“Lady Chen.” Liang returned the bow. “Welcome to Xianyang.”
“And you must be Captain Zhang.” Lady Chen turned her full attention to Zhang Mei. “The legendary foreign advisor. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“None of it good, I’m sure,” Zhang Mei said lightly.
“On the contrary.” Lady Chen’s smile was genuine. “My uncle serves in the northern garrison. He says your tactics saved his life. That you revolutionized how we fight.”
That ... was not what Zhang Mei expected.
They sat. Servants brought food—elaborate courses, each one a work of art. Zhao played host perfectly, keeping conversation flowing, ensuring everyone was comfortable.
Zhang Mei watched Lady Chen carefully. The woman was clearly educated, well-spoken, comfortable in court settings. But there was something else. When military topics came up, her interest sharpened. She asked intelligent questions about troop formations, supply logistics, battlefield communication.
Not polite interest. Genuine engagement.
“My family has produced generals for four generations,” Lady Chen explained when Zhao mentioned her background. “I grew up around military strategy. My father included me in tactical discussions, taught me to read terrain maps, understand force deployment.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “Of course, women don’t command. But I’ve always been fascinated by the intellectual challenge.”
“The intellectual challenge is considerable,” Zhang Mei said. “Strategy isn’t just knowing what to do. It’s knowing when, how, and adapting when circumstances change.”
“Exactly!” Lady Chen leaned forward, animated. “That’s what I found most interesting about your tactics, Captain. The emphasis on flexibility over rigid formations. Treating battlefield conditions as variables rather than constants.”
They fell into discussion—tactical theory, historical battles, the evolution of warfare. Liang contributed observations from field experience. Even Zhao participated, though Zhang Mei noticed he watched more than he spoke.
It wasn’t until dessert that Lady Chen addressed the elephant in the room.
“I understand my presence here has a specific purpose,” she said, looking directly at Liang. “A potential marriage arrangement. I should be direct about my position.”
The table went quiet.
“I respect you, Prince Liang. Your accomplishments, your dedication to the dynasty, your military brilliance. But I won’t be a decorative wife. I won’t sit in quarters and pour tea while interesting work happens elsewhere.”
She set down her cup with deliberate care. “If we marry, I want to be involved. To contribute. To work alongside Captain Zhang on tactical development. To be useful, not ornamental.”
Zhao’s smile tightened fractionally. “Lady Chen, such aspirations are ... unusual.”
“So is Captain Zhang,” Lady Chen replied. “Yet she’s transformed Qin warfare. Why should I limit myself to traditional roles when new possibilities exist?”
Zhang Mei reassessed again. Either Lady Chen was brilliantly playing a role, or she was genuinely unconventional. Either way, she was formidable.
“What do you know about northern warfare?” Zhang Mei asked, testing.
“Horse archers. Mobile combat. Emphasis on harassment over direct engagement. Traditional Chinese tactics are built for formation warfare—shield walls, ranked spear lines, heavy cavalry charges. They’re ineffective against enemies who refuse direct confrontation.”
“And how would you counter that?”
Lady Chen thought for a moment. “Force them to commit. Use terrain to limit mobility. Create situations where they have to engage directly or lose strategic objectives.” She paused. “Which is essentially what you did in the spring campaign, isn’t it? Force multiplication through tactical positioning rather than numerical superiority.”
“You’ve studied the reports,” Liang said.
“Obsessively. Your victories are textbook examples of adaptive strategy.”
They talked for another hour. Military theory, tactical innovation, the challenges of implementing new doctrine. Lady Chen held her own, contributing insights that showed both knowledge and original thinking.
By the time the dinner ended, Zhang Mei had a problem.
She liked Lady Chen.
More than that—she respected her. The woman was intelligent, passionate about military strategy, genuinely interested in contributing rather than just securing political position.
If she was Zhao’s tool, she was the best actor Zhang Mei had ever encountered.
Walking back to their quarters, Liang spoke quietly. “Well?”
“She’s either exactly what she claims, or she’s dangerously good at deception.”
“Which do you think?”
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