Chapter 3 — Crossing the Moonlight at Khê Quân

In the past, whenever I had to speak with her, I was forced to resort to writing. Each conversation left my wrists aching with a dull, unbearable throb. Back then, I did it willingly, for she was the mother of Bui Canh. But I have no desire to write anymore. And if I am not to write, then there is no reason to meet. I owe the house of Bui nothing, nor do I have any obligation to indulge anyone ever again.

Three days later, all arrangements were finalized. The Prince of Vinh, Ta Ky, arrived at Thuong Ninh with his final escort. I stood beneath the steps beside my father to welcome them. The man in black robes leading the troop reined in his horse, dismounted with effortless precision, and tossed the reins to his lieutenant behind him. Every movement flowed like water—a display of the crisp, arrogant grace born of years spent on the battlefield. My father stepped forward.

Lord of Thuong Ninh, An Thich, pays his respects to His Highness, the Prince of Vinh.

I followed, bowing my head in a soft, graceful salute. Ta Ky waved a hand, his voice low and tinged with indifference.

Lord An, there is no need for such formalities. I am merely passing through Thuong Ninh; I apologize for the intrusion.

Your Highness’s presence is a blessing for our city, my father replied with practiced courtesy. I kept my gaze lowered, standing quietly to the side. I had heard many rumors about this prince. The younger brother of the Crown Prince, he was infamous for his rebellious, devil-may-care attitude—a man who spent his days in hedonistic pursuits, driving the Imperial Tutor to the brink of resignation time and again. Yet, this was the same man who had entered the military camps at thirteen, and by fifteen, had charged through a sea of soldiers to claim the head of the enemy commander. Bui Canh had worshiped him. He had stared toward the northern border countless times, speaking of his dream to be just like the Prince of Vinh, fighting on the front lines. But because Bui Canh was his father’s only son, he had been kept confined within the walls of Thuong Ninh. He had nursed that regret for a long time, eventually transforming his yearning into an unshakable devotion to the Prince. I had once imagined a hero of such renown to be a hulking, broad-shouldered man with a fierce visage. Today, seeing Ta Ky with my own eyes, I discovered he possessed features of startling refinement. His brow was high and straight, his jawline carved with surgical precision. Unlike the gentle, scholarly air of noble sons like Bui Canh, Ta Ky’s expression held a sharpness—a cold, oppressive edge like the gleam of a blade. I could not help but steal a glance at him. At that very moment, Ta Ky turned his head. Our eyes locked. His instincts were terrifyingly sharp. My heart skipped a beat, and I immediately lowered my gaze. My father spoke up just in time:

Your Highness, this is my daughter, An He Quan. She lost her voice in childhood and cannot offer a verbal greeting; I hope Your Highness will be magnanimous.

I performed a perfect, formal curtsy. He was unlike the others; he showed no trace of pity or shock. He simply curled his lips slightly and gave a small nod.

It is of no consequence.

Back in my quarters, the young Imperial Grandson was waiting for me on a small stool. Knowing my condition, the child had secretly learned sign language from my maid. Seeing me enter, he immediately raised his plump little hands. Hello. After signing it, he erupted into giggles. My heart softened instantly. I stepped forward to pull him into a hug. He looped his arms around my neck, his voice small and sweet.

A Quan, you look beautiful today.

I smiled, ruffled his hair, and turned to the maid. Has the Imperial Grandson eaten? She shook her head helplessly.

Not yet. His stomach is grumbling with hunger, but the little prince insisted on waiting for you to eat together.

A wave of tenderness washed over me, and I pinched his chubby cheek. The boy pressed his face into my neck.

I love eating with A Quan.

I set him down, made the sign for love, and pointed to him. Before the maid could explain, the boy clapped his hands in delight.

I know! That means love!

Then, his face clouded over with frustration.

The maid taught me, but I was so happy just now that I forgot.

After the meal, he clung to me, demanding to learn more signs. He mimicked an adult’s expression, puffing out his small chest and looking remarkably serious.

No matter what it is, you only truly own it once you have learned it.

As I laughed and coached him, the maid entered to pass on a message: Miss, the Lord says you must bring the young master to the front hall.

I carried the boy outside. As I looked up, I saw a tall, dark-robed figure standing beside my father. Upon seeing him, the boy called out excitedly.

Fifth Uncle! Did you come to find me?

Ta Ky strode forward. His previous look of indolent ease vanished, replaced by a stern reprimand.

Will you dare to run off like that again?

The boy shrank back, burying his face in my neck. After disciplining his nephew, Ta Ky’s gaze shifted naturally to me. I held the boy tighter and bowed. Ta Ky’s expression softened ever so slightly.

I have yet to formally thank Lady An for saving the boy.

I shook my head and stepped back half a pace. My father spoke up from the side.

As long as the Imperial Grandson is safe, nothing else matters. This is merely the duty of a subject.

Ta Ky reached out to take the boy from me. Unexpectedly, the child held onto my neck even tighter, shouting.

I don’t want to leave A Quan!

Ta Ky didn't force it; seeing the child’s firm grip, he pulled his hands back. He was so amused he chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

Fine, fine. You’ve grown quite bold after one trip outside, haven’t you? You don’t even listen to me anymore?

The boy poked his head out from my neck, protesting stubbornly.

I was already brave to begin with!

I gently patted his back to soothe him.