Chapter 1 — The General's Wild Daughter

For half a year, Mother coaxed and pampered Father endlessly, until at last, she conceived me. Every single day, she would stroke her rounding stomach, murmuring softly to herself, "You must be gentle, graceful, and utterly fond of wearing skirts, just like me."

When I finally entered the world, my eyelashes were delicately fine and arched, and tears of pure joy welled in Mother's eyes. Yet, the moment I learned to walk, I looted her finest cosmetics and smeared them all over Father's heavy iron armor. By age three, I was dragging a saber around; by five, I was scaling courtyard walls; and by seven, I had beaten the young heir of the neighboring Marquisate until he wept bitterly. Surveying the utter chaos strewn across the courtyard, Mother clutched her chest and wept aloud, "One of you alone was already enough to drive me to despair; why on earth would the heavens send me another?"

I crouched down right in front of her and patted her shoulder consolingly. "Don't cry, Mother. I will protect you."

That only made Mother weep all the harder.

01

My mother was a celebrated beauty throughout the capital. She was not the sort of woman whose allure required a rigid, cold, and distant posture. Her voice was as soft as silk, her steps unhurried, and even her anger resembled a cup of peach blossom tea accidentally spilled upon a spring afternoon. And yet, she had married my father. Father was the Grand General Suppressing the North, a man who had spent his life rolling amidst drawn blades and piercing swords. His voice was booming, his stride heavy, and the mere moment he donned his suit of armor, he could frighten the talking parrot in the courtyard into silence for three whole days. Outsiders all whispered that Mother marrying into the general's estate was nothing less than a delicate flower tumbling straight into an armory.

At first, Mother refused to believe it. But on the third day after their wedding, she wished to view the moon with Father. Father stood in the courtyard with a heavy military treatise for a long while, finally pointing up at the glowing disk to declare, "Tonight's moon isn't bad at all; it's quite suitable for a nocturnal raid."

Mother immediately crushed her round silk fan into a crumpled mess. Shortly afterward, she invited Father to appreciate the subtle fragrances of her garden. Father sniffed deeply for a long moment before pronouncing, "It smells precisely like damp gunpowder."

Furious, Mother ignored him for three whole days. Panicked, Father lugged a massive chest of wolf pelts back from the northern frontier in the dead of night to appease her, proclaiming, "My lady, do not be angry. These pelts are thick; spread them upon the bed, and you shall never feel the cold."

Upon beholding the chest filled with dismal grey wolf skins, the corners of Mother's eyes instantly turned red. By the following morning, the entire capital knew that the great general had wooed his wife by presenting her with an entire room full of wolves.

Mother felt increasingly lonely. The general's estate was vast. The wind howling through the corridors and the flickering shadows of the lanterns made one's heart feel utterly hollow. Father was frequently summoned to court for council or dispatched to the military camps to drill the troops. Mother would sit alone by the window, embroidering flowers. Mid-stitch, whenever she raised her head, her gaze would inevitably fall upon the heavy lance hanging upon the wall—a weapon taller than she was. The longer she stared, the more stifled her heart became.

One afternoon, the wife of the Duke of An Guo from the neighboring estate brought her two young daughters to visit. The little girls, clad in matching pink dresses, clustered around Mother and called her "Aunty." One offered her a pastry while the other gently pounded her shoulders and fanned her with a tiny round fan, cooing in piping voices, "Aunty is so pretty."

Mother's heart instantly melted. After the guests departed, she seated herself before Father and said with utmost seriousness, "My lord, I wish to have a daughter."

Father was in the midst of wiping his saber. At her words, his hand froze. The cold reflection of the blade cast across his face made this ordinary domestic request sound abruptly like a military decree. "Granted."

Mother was momentarily stunned. Father added, "Since my lady desires one, we shall have one."

A blush bloomed across Mother's cheeks, and she lowered her head, twisting her handkerchief nervously. She had imagined the matter would be quite simple. Yet half a month passed with no news. A full month passed, still with no news. Mother began drinking nourishing herbal tonics day in and day out. Father drank them right alongside her. The brews were packed with wild ginseng, deer antler, goji berries, and a mountain of medicinal ingredients meticulously prescribed by the imperial physicians. When Father swallowed his first bowl, he did not even frown. But by the fifth day, while practicing his lance work in the study, he hurled a heavy stone barbell straight into the pond with a single sweep of his weapon. The head steward standing nearby did not dare to utter a sound.

Hearing of this, Mother quietly instructed the kitchen to cut the medicinal tonics in half. Father, conversely, seemed quite pleased. "My lady, rest assured," he declared, "my constitution is remarkably robust."

Mother promptly clapped a hand over his mouth. "Hush your tongue."

Father obediently clamped his mouth shut, though his eyes burned with an alarming brilliance. From that day onward, Mother's longing for a child resembled preparing for a full-scale battle. She sewed an entire chest of infant garments—every single one of them a tiny dress made of soft silk in shades of pale pink, light yellow, ivory, and soft lavender. She even commissioned a tiny silver bell that produced a crisp, clear chime at the slightest movement. Every day, she would cradle those little dresses in her arms and gaze at them, her eyes brimming with eager anticipation.

"If it is a daughter, she will surely resemble me."
"She will love styling her hair, wearing floral ornaments, and sitting obediently by my side."
"I shall teach her to embroider handkerchiefs, blend incenses, and wear the most exquisite gowns."

The maidservants giggled upon hearing this, and the old nanny chuckled as well. Only my father stood outside the doorway, remaining silent for a very long time. Catching sight of him, Mother asked, "Why aren't you saying anything?"

Father looked at the chest full of tiny skirts, his expression deadly serious. "If it is a daughter, she might also learn a little martial arts for self-defense."

Mother instantly glared at him. "Not even a fraction!"

Father nodded obediently. "Very well."

Mother added, "She is not allowed to touch any sabers."

Father nodded again. "Very well."

"You are forbidden from taking her to the military camps."
"Very well."
"You shall not teach her to climb trees or scale courtyard walls."
"Very well."

Father agreed far too readily, which only made Mother all the more uneasy. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Did you actually listen to a word I said?"

Father instantly set his saber aside and raised his hand in a solemn oath. "I swear that if we have a daughter, I shall raise her to be gentle and virtuous, spending each day admiring flowers and enjoying tea with my lady."

Only then was Mother satisfied. That night, she dreamed of a little girl sitting beneath a blossoming tree, her eyelashes mirroring her own, smiling with boundless sweetness. The child wore a pink dress, clutched an embroidery frame in her small hands, and softly called her Mother. When she awoke, the lingering smile still rested against her pillow.

Half a month later, the imperial physician arrived to check her pulse. Everyone in the room held their breath. The physician pressed his fingers to her wrist for a long moment before cupping his hands in congratulation. "Joyous news, my lady. It is a pulse of conception."

Tears instantly spilled from Mother's eyes. Father stood beside her, looking as though he had been struck by lightning. A moment later, he abruptly turned and strode straight out the door. Mother called out anxiously, "Where are you going?"

Without looking back, Father replied, "To the palace to request leave of absence."
"For what reason?"
"I must remain by my lady's side."

Mother laughed through her tears. "It has only been a month, what on earth are you guarding against?"

Father halted at the threshold, turning his head back with profound solemnity. "I shall guard her until the child is born."

Mother stroked her lower abdomen, her face overflowing with tender affection. She had no way of knowing that deep within her womb, I had given a little kick precisely because of Father's casual use of the word "daughter"—a movement so vigorous it nearly sent the teacup slipping from her fingers.

02

After Mother conceived me, the general's estate underwent a complete transformation. The racks of weaponry were hauled out to the outer courtyards. The heavy lance upon the wall was taken down. The armor Father customarily wore was locked away in the storehouse, leaving only a selection of soft, lightweight casual garments. Mother decreed that the infant in her womb must gaze upon flowers and foliage, not upon swords and sabers. Consequently, the courtyard bloomed with Chinese flowering crabapples, peonies, orchids, and a brand-new pond filled with shimmering brocade carp.

Father personally supervised the servants as they moved the potted flora into place. Towering and long-legged, he stood amidst the greenery, furrowing his brow as though arraying troops for battle.

"This pot is placed too close; it blocks the pathway."
"That pot is too low; it lacks stability."
"Lay soft cushions all around the fish pond. If my lady takes a fall, all of you shall sleep in the stables."

The servants nodded frantically. Seated beneath the veranda, Mother nibbled on preserved sour plums, laughing until her shoulders shook. Ever since her pregnancy, her appetite had turned utterly eccentric. Previously fond of sweets, she now craved sourness. Where she once abhorred fishy odors, she would now halt in her tracks at the scent of roasted mutton.

Delighted, Father declared, "She takes after me."

Mother immediately set down her chopsticks. "She shall not resemble you in the slightest."

Father obediently sealed his lips. Mother stroked her belly, cooing gently to me, "Be a good girl, you must take after your mother."
"I shall teach you to play the zither, practice calligraphy, and wear lovely little skirts."
"We shall touch none of your father's crude martial weapons."

From within the womb, I delivered a sharp kick. Mother froze in astonishment. Father froze as well. An instant later, his eyes lit up brilliantly. "That girl kicks with remarkable force."

Mother glared at him. "This is called being lively."

Father instantly corrected himself. "Quite right, lively."

Mother lowered her head once more to coax me. "Being lively is fine, but you must not be too mischievous."

I delivered yet another kick, even stronger than the last. Mother clutched her abdomen, her expression turning rather complex. Father crouched down before her, gently resting his large palm against her stomach. "Give us another one."

Mother swatted his hand away. "Do not tease the child."

Yet Father refused to relent. At night, after Mother had fallen asleep, he would sit beside the bed and murmur softly to her belly, "I am your father."
"If you are a daughter, I shall forge a golden lock for you."
"If you possess great strength, I shall carve a tiny wooden saber just for you."