Chapter 17 — I was once traded for, then became someone they couldn't reach for the rest of my life

Trieu Hanh bowed deeply and bowed deeply.

“Father-in-law can rest assured.”

"In the future, if you are willing to be wronged, without him coming to claim it, I will punish myself first."

Father snorted softly, but the corners of his eyes turned red. He took my hand and placed it in Trieu Hanh's hand. Trieu Hanh's hand is very warm. He didn't hold it so tightly that it hurt me, he just gently held it, like he was holding a precious object that he had waited many years to touch. At that moment, I suddenly truly believed. This time, I didn't have to be taken away. But to be welcomed back. The grand wedding took place amid the congratulations of the civil and military mandarins. No more gloomy night. No more conspiracies over a cup of wine. No one will use me as an exchange anymore. When the mandarin raised his voice to worship heaven and earth, Trieu Hanh and I bowed together. This bow is a tribute to heaven and earth that we still have today after much suffering. Second time bowing to the high hall, my father sat high up, turned away very quickly, but I still saw him quietly wiping the corner of his eyes. Husband and wife bowed, I saw Trieu Hanh's figure bending down to me from the red veil. Not higher than me. Don't oppress me. But standing with me on equal footing, bowing with me before this destiny. That night, in the new room, red candles burned for a long time. I sat by the bed and heard Trieu Hanh's footsteps coming in. He stopped in front of me, but did not immediately lift his veil. I heard him softly ask:

“Can I?”

Just one simple sentence. My tears suddenly almost fell. Because before, no one had ever asked me if I could or not. They just decide for us. Arrange for me. Communicate for me. As for Trieu Hanh, when it comes to lifting the veil, he wants to ask me first. I replied softly: The veil was lifted. The red candlelight shone into his eyes, making those normally calm eyes become strangely gentle. He looked at me for a long time. It was not Trieu Viet's amazing eyes when he saw the people in the painting. Nor was Ta Van So's belated look of regret when he realized he had lost the person next to him. Trieu Hanh's eyes were like those of a long-distance traveler finally returning home. He sat down next to me, took out dried almond petals from his sleeve.

“I thought, if one day I could marry you, I would definitely return this flower petal to you.”

I look at that flower petal. Those are my thirteen year old memories. It is also his obsession for many years. I smiled softly.

“If you keep it for so long, aren't you afraid it will break?”

He shook his head.

“So I always keep it very carefully.”

"Just like in the past years, I don't dare to bother her, nor dare to compete with her. I can only stay where she can't see, trying to become someone who can protect her."

My heart softens little by little. He reached out his hand and very gently wiped away the tears at the corner of my eyes.

“I don't need you to be strong anymore.”

“Because from now on.”

“I am with you.”

I looked at him, tears finally falling. But this time, it's not because of pain. But because after wearing the robe three times, after all the humiliation, hurt and loss, I finally met someone who truly considers me the one in his heart. Outside the window, the night wind blew. Almond flowers fell all over the yard. I leaned into Trieu Hanh's arms, feeling for the first time that my life was no longer a chess game arranged by others. From now on. I am Ly Trieu Ca. She is the daughter of the general's palace. To be The wife is respected by people. It's also us. (Side Story 1 - Trieu Viet: Can't Touch Her All His Life) Trieu Viet was escorted out of the capital on a cold foggy morning. That day, the city gate opened very early. There was no official to send him off, no palace servants to bow to him, and no one to call him His Royal Highness. He wore an old gray prison shirt, his wrists were locked with iron chains, step by step he walked through the road where in the past he used to ride a horse with his head held high, receiving the awed eyes of all people. When the prison bus passed Truong An Street, he suddenly raised his head and looked towards the end of the road. There used to be a palanquin passing by there. That day, Ly Trieu Ca put on a red robe and entered the Eastern Palace in the admiring eyes of the entire capital. He thought that was the day he got back the person in the ten-year-old painting, and was also the day he held both the beauty and the country in his hands. But then he knew. That was not the day she returned to him. It was the day she sent him down from the highest position. When the prison bus left the capital, Trieu Viet did not cry. He just turned his head and looked at the city wall further and further away, his heart so empty that he no longer felt pain. It wasn't until many years later, in the land of year-round wind and snow, that he gradually understood that the thing that hurts a person the most is never losing his throne. The position can be contested. Power can be taken. But there was one person, once she turned around and left, even if he spent the rest of her life kneeling down and begging, she would never turn back again. During the first years of exile, Trieu Viet was still unwilling.