Chapter 9 — Princess Chieu Ninh Chooses Her Imperial Husband

The secret he had created himself had cut off his path to office. I felt no joy. The cause and effect had traveled in a great circle before falling back on him. Ve Tuan suddenly said: "If you're uncomfortable, you can say it." I looked at him. The candlelight reflected steadily in his eyes. I asked: "Aren't you afraid that I still miss you?" Ve Tuan thought for a moment. "Scared." He answered too honestly, but on the contrary, it made me dumbfounded. He said in a low voice: "But fear cannot stop you from speaking." Something warm brushed my heart. "I do not remember him." Ve Tuan looked at me. I said: "I remember only the person I was before." I remembered the little girl holding the bow, her heart full of confidence that she could win. I remembered how, even after he pressed down her wrist, she had still considered him the person she trusted most. I reached out and touched the paired wine cup on the table. "Ve Tuan, what if I want to fight for something again?" He said: "I will go with you." "What if we lose?" "Then we will try again." "What if what I'm fighting for is also something you feel is inappropriate?" He looked at me and responded very slowly. "I will tell you my thoughts, but the choice will be yours. I will not press your hand down." The tip of my nose suddenly stung. I bowed my head and waited for a moment. Ve Tuan did not come close to advise me, nor was he in a hurry to look at my tears. He just placed his handkerchief next to me. Outside the window, someone announced in a low voice. "Princess, Lord Ta is waiting outside the residence." Ve Tuan looked at me. I grabbed the towel and slowly stood up. "Let's go see him." Ve Tuan also stood up. I said: "I'll go on my own." He stopped. "Okay." Outside the palace gate, Ta Chiet Ngoc stood under a red lantern. He was not wearing a cloak, his shoulders were covered with night dew, his whole body was as thin as a crumpled piece of paper. Seeing me leave, his eyes lit up. "A Lenh." I stood inside the threshold. "Call me princess." The light in his face dimmed. He bowed his head and took out a brocade box from his chest. The box opened, inside was a small bow made of pure gold. "I retrieved it from the Tham family." I looked at it. Ta Chiet Ngoc's voice was hoarse and intense. "I know I can never repay everything. But I want to give it to you." I did not accept it. "It is no longer mine." His fingers trembled. "A Lenh... princess." He corrected his words, his eyes immediately turned red. "Today I finally understand how much pain you were in that year." I said: "You did not understand it today; you merely admitted it today." Ta Chiet Ngoc's face turned pale. He took a step forward and stopped outside the doorway. "Can you give me another chance? I do not ask you to annul the marriage. I only want to stay beside you and do whatever you ask." I looked at him and suddenly remembered that day when I was thirteen years old. He stood behind me, his hand pressing down, deciding victory or defeat for me. Now he stood outside the door, finally waiting for me to decide whether he should go or stay. I said: "Impossible." His tears fell and hit the edge of the brocade box. "Why?" The night wind blew the sleeves of my wedding dress. From the bridal chamber behind me, I heard a red candle crackle. I said: "Ta Chiet Ngoc, I'm married." He choked. I continued: "A long time ago, I stopped standing in place waiting for you." The brocade box in his hand fell to the ground. The little gold bow rolled from the box and stopped beneath the threshold. He bent to pick it up, but his hands shook so badly that he missed it twice. Finally he knelt on the ground, his forehead pressed against the cold stone steps, a broken cry overflowing from his throat. "A Lenh, I was wrong, I was really wrong." I could not help him. The threshold divided the lamplight inside from the cold night outside. I stood in the warm red candlelight. He was in the night mist and cold wind. This time, it wasn't me who was pushed down. I turned around and went back. Ve Tuan stood in the hallway waiting for me, without asking the result, just draped a cloak over my shoulders. I turned my head to take a look. Outside the door, Ta Chiet Ngoc was still kneeling there, clutching that small bow in his hand, his knuckles so white that the blood drained from them. The wind blew out a lamp in front of the gate. I withdrew my gaze and grabbed the hand that Ve Tuan offered. His palms had thin calluses and were firm to the touch. We stepped back into the palace. The door behind me slowly closed.