Chapter 1 — Princess Chieu Ninh Chooses Her Imperial Husband

Ta Chiet Ngoc placed first in the literary, martial, and ritual trials. The entire court was waiting for me to name him. He also raised his eyes to look at me, his fingers under his sleeve slowly tightening. I looked at the three words at the top of the golden board, remembering how, years ago, he had pressed my arrow an inch lower and told me that being suitable mattered more than winning. So I passed over his name and chose Ve Tuan, who ranked third. The smile on Ta Chiet Ngoc's face disappeared little by little.
The snow outside the palace had just stopped. Lanterns glowed against the red walls, and the wind set the bronze eaves bell ringing. I sat on the high seat in Phuong Nghi Palace with a golden tablet in my hand. The board before me was divided into three columns: literature, martial arts, and rituals. Ta Chiet Ngoc's name stood at the top. The court lady raised the golden tablet before me and announced: "Princess Chieu Ninh, choose your imperial husband." The entire court fell silent. Every wine cup froze in mid-air, and even the rustle of cloth fell silent. I lowered my head and saw Ta Chiet Ngoc's name, the ink so thick it looked engraved on the yellow paper. He stood in the middle of the palace, wearing a dark brocade shirt, his hair secured with a jade crown, his shoulders and back straight, even the corners of his eyes looked leisurely. He was still the same. From a young age, he read books with me, taught me how to ride a horse and shoot, took the eunuch's punishment for me, and said good things for me in front of my father. Everyone in the palace said that if Princess Chieu Ninh wanted to marry, the husband of the Ta family would be the most suitable. I used to think so too. Ta Chiet Ngoc raised his eyes and looked at me, the corners of his lips curled slightly. Behind him, someone laughed softly. "Ta Chiet Ngoc ranked first in all three trials. Who else can the princess choose?" I grabbed the lipstick pen, the pen tip hung on the golden board. The pen moved downward, then stopped again. In that moment, I smelled charcoal mixed with apricot scent and heard the gold bracelet on my wrist tap softly against the table. Many years ago, it was also winter. I was thirteen, and Tham Thanh Duong had just entered the palace as my study companion. She could write in small regular script with one hand, play the qin, recite the Biographies of Exemplary Women, and lower her eyes whenever she met someone. My mother liked her and said she was quiet and composed, unlike me who only knew how to run to the riding grounds. I was not convinced. That day in front of the palace banquet, the emperor set up a small contest. Whoever could shoot the red silk flower a hundred steps away would be rewarded with a small bow made of pure gold given by the emperor. I had practiced archery since childhood, until the bowstring wore my palms raw. Ta Chiet Ngoc stood behind me, adjusting the bowstring for me. He said in a low voice: "Don't rush, hold steady." I nodded, the sound of the wind in my ears. Tham Thanh Duong's first arrow grazed the red silk strip. The second arrow I shot hit the center of the pistil. On the third shot, the emperor smiled and said: "Ta Chiet Ngoc, help Chieu Ninh, is his wrist steady?" Ta Chiet Ngoc walked up to me, his hand covering the back of my hand. His fingertips were very cold. The bowstring stretched, and the red silk swayed in the wind. Just as I was about to let go, his thumb suddenly pressed lightly on my wrist bone. The arrow flew out, stuck to the edge of the red silk, missing by an inch. Tham Thanh Duong's third arrow hit the target. Applause echoed throughout the yard, and a small bow made of pure gold was brought to her hand. I stood in place, my palm numb, my eyes staring at the deflected arrow. Ta Chiet Ngoc let go, his face as usual. I asked him: "Why is it different?" He said: "Chieu Ninh, not everything needs to be won." I gritted my teeth and looked at him. He said again: "You are a princess, it is easy to win with a bow, but the thing that suits you is not necessarily the thing that can win. Thanh Duong has a calm temperament, that small bow in her hand, my father could rest easy, and so could my mother." I did not understand; I only felt a lump in my chest. He released my wrist slowly. "Being suitable is more important than winning." I remembered it for years. After that, I stopped competing with Tham Thanh Duong over music or poetry. I no longer quarreled with her about the velvet flower my mother had given her, or about whom Ta Chiet Ngoc would accompany to the flower garden. I carried his words in my heart, turning them over again and again. "Being suitable is more important than winning." Now he had won. But I suddenly realized that winning doesn't mean being suitable. The lipstick pen lowered, passed Ta Chiet Ngoc, and stopped in the third row. I wrote Ve Tuan's name. The words felt like a hand closing around my throat. The smile on Ta Chiet Ngoc's lips stiffened. His eyes fell from my face to the golden board, then slowly raised it again. I closed my pen and bowed to my father. "I chose Ve Tuan as my son-in-law." My father frowned. The teacup in my mother's hand gave a faint clink. Finally, Ta Chiet Ngoc opened his mouth, his voice was deep and hoarse. "Princess." I looked at him. His throat moved, his knuckles in his sleeves stretched to the point of turning white. "Why?" I considered it for a moment and answered him: "This is what you taught me." His eyes were shocked. We said: "Being suitable is more important than winning."
No one in the palace dared to answer. Ve Tuan stood in the third row on the right. When he heard his name, the card in his hand almost slipped down. He was the second son of General Tran Bac. His talent was not the greatest, his riding and archery were not the best, and he had ranked only third in the ritual trial. But his parents guarded the North, his household was well managed, and his personality was straightforward. His mother once checked his family history and said he did not drink alcohol, did not linger in the brothel, and did not have a secret lover outside. Most importantly, before coming to the selection, he had written home to his parents and secured their approval. My father once told me that an imperial son-in-law was not chosen by rank alone. I remembered that advice. Ta Chiet Ngoc should have been pleased. At last, the words you taught me had come back to you. The queen straightened in her seat. "Chieu Ninh, have you thought clearly?" I knelt. "I have thought clearly." My father looked at me for a long time, then looked back at Ve Tuan. "Ve Tuan." Ve Tuan stepped forward and knelt very decisively. "I am here." "Do you wish to be the imperial son-in-law?" Ve Tuan bowed his head, his voice steady. "I am willing." Ta Chiet Ngoc took a step forward. As soon as he moved, Grand Tutor Ta coughed. That cough wasn't serious, but it stopped him in his tracks. I saw his jaw tighten, the whites of his eyes veined with red. My father handed the golden tablet to the court officials. "If that's the case, choose an auspicious day and perform the six rituals." When the words "six rituals" were spoken, the mood in the court changed at once. Some people breathed a sigh of relief, some people exchanged glances, some people secretly looked at Ta Chiet Ngoc. I also looked at him. Ta Chiet Ngoc stood rigid, like a bow drawn to its limit. I thought he would be angry. He should have blamed me for being blind, for forgetting our old affection, and for humiliating the Ta family before the court. But he just stared at me, there was something in his eyes that I did not understand. When the banquet ended, I went out from the side hall. Meltwater dripped from the roof, falling on the green tiles. Ta Chiet Ngoc caught up with me in the hallway. "Chieu Ninh." I stopped. In the past, he rarely called me both my title and my name. In private, he always called me A Lenh. Today you called me Chieu Ninh, like a cold palace wall. He walked closer, his cloak covered with snow particles. "Are you still blaming that little bow?" I was a little stunned. "What?" He stared into my eyes. "When I was thirteen, I made you lose." These words were so light, mixed in with the wind, when they entered my ears, I thought I had heard them wrong. I raised my head to look at him. "You made it?" Ta Chiet Ngoc's hand moved slightly in his sleeve. He seemed to have finally realized that he had said something wrong, his lips pressed into a straight line. I looked at him and suddenly remembered that inch. It had not been the wind or an unsteady hand. It had been his thumb pressing against my wrist bone. "It turns out I didn't lose at all." My fingertips became cold little by little. Ta Chiet Ngoc said in a low voice: "At that time, your personality was too strong. Your mother already didn't like you being aggressive in everything. I was afraid that if you continued to win, it would only make others afraid." I asked: "So you lost for me?" He frowned. "I am protecting you." The snow dripped down and hit the tip of my shoe, causing the embroidered shoe to spread out a small dark streak. I looked at the streak of water, and an inch-wide emptiness opened in my heart. "You protected me, why didn't you tell me?" Ta Chiet Ngoc reached out, wanting to touch my sleeve. I took a step back. His hand stopped in midair. "A Lenh, you were still young at the time." I raised my eyes. "I'm small, so you can trick me?" His face changed. "I'm not lying to you, I just want you to understand that things in life are not something you can win just by winning." I nodded. "I understand." His expression softened slightly. I said again: "So today, I won't marry you." Ta Chiet Ngoc's eyes widened in disbelief. Snow blew through the hallway. He stood there with the hem of his robe flying, his knuckles slowly tightening. "Is Ve Tuan really more suitable than I am?" I thought for a moment. "He will not lose for me." Ta Chiet Ngoc's chest rose and fell. I gave him a shallow bow. "Ta Chiet Ngoc, thank you for teaching me." Having finished speaking, I turned around and walked forward. Behind him came his voice. "A Lenh, once a marriage has been arranged, you cannot easily regret it." I did not stop. "I know."
The next day, everyone in the palace knew that last night Ta Chiet Ngoc stood outside Phuong Nghi Palace until the third watch. The court lady came to invite him, but he did not move. Grand Tutor Ta himself came and he followed, even the hem of his shirt was covered in frost as he left. When Xuan Dao combed my hair, her hands moving more slowly than usual. She looked at me through the bronze mirror, her lips moved a few times. I said: "If you want to ask, just ask." Xuan Dao lowered her voice. "The princess really doesn't choose Ta Chiet Ngoc anymore?" I looked at the person in the mirror. I had not yet put on the phoenix crown; I wore only a simple silver hairpin, and the candlelight caught the shape of my brows and eyes. I said: "Before the decree comes down, I still have a chance to change my words." Xuan Dao's eyes lit up. I continued: "But I won't change." She lowered her head again. "I only feel that Prince Ta Chiet Ngoc and the Princess grew up together." I touched the wrist bone. There had been no mark left on my wrist since I was thirteen. But just remembering it makes me feel a small bitter feeling in my bones. "It's because we grew up together that you know what I care about the most." Since childhood, I had not been the most favored princess. My mother had once had a daughter who was dignified and obedient, and everyone had praised her before she died young. After I was born, people expected me to be like my sister. But I love the riding grounds, I love climbing the walls, and I love competing with the princes. My older brother said I did not look like a princess. My mother said I did not behave like a proper girl. Only Ta Chiet Ngoc, when I was punished for copying books, would give me candy through the window. He said: "A Lenh, if you want to win then win, if you lose, I will still be here for you." He also told me that being suitable mattered more than winning. I believed him. I believed him so completely that, little by little, I flattened myself.