Chapter 7 — The General's Wild Daughter

Father froze as he sat by the bedside, gently warming her hands. Mother slowly turned her head to look at him, but Father remained completely calm.

I have always obeyed my lady wife.

I felt that what Father said made perfect sense. The following day, standing in the courtyard, I imitated Mother’s posture and extended my hand toward Father.

Father, come here.

True to his word, Father walked over. I pointed to my small wooden horse.

Ride.

Silence descended upon the entire courtyard. Father looked at the wooden horse, which barely reached his knees, and then down at my expectant face. When Mother hurried over, she happened to arrive just in time to see the valiant general leaning one hand against a pillar, placing one foot beside the wooden horse with an expression of profound awkwardness.

Mother leaned against the veranda railing, utterly speechless for a long time. Father stood beside the wooden horse looking even more solemn than he did before setting out for the battlefield. I tugged at the hem of his robe and urged him on.

Ride.

Father lowered his head to look at me.

A Ninh, I am too big.

I observed him with utmost seriousness.

Then shrink a little bit.

Father fell silent. The guards in the courtyard turned red from holding back their laughter. Mother finally regained her composure and scooped me up into her arms.

Your father cannot ride that.

I could not understand.

Why?

She thought about it for a moment.

The horse will be in pain.

I looked at the wooden horse, then back at Father, deciding that Mother’s reasoning was sound. Therefore, I patted the wooden horse on the head.

Do not be afraid.

Father breathed a quiet sigh of relief, yet Mother remained on edge. She had realized that my finest skills were no longer running or throwing, but rather commanding Father. When I told Father to squat, he squatted. When I told him to lift me high, he hoisted me up right beneath the flowering crabapple tree. When I commanded Father to imitate a horse, he remained silent for a long time before letting out a soft grunt. I complained that it did not sound right, so he grunted once more. The steward, passing by at that exact moment, nearly crashed into the door frame. Mother sat by the window, gripping her embroidery needle so hard she bent it entirely out of shape.

Huyet Tri Vien, you just keep spoiling this child.

Father embraced me and spoke in a low voice.

She is still little.

Mother let out a cold laugh.

When she grows up, will you let her dismantle the entire general’s manor just for fun?

Father pondered this for a moment.

We can always rebuild it.

Mother set her embroidery frame down. I immediately poked my head out from the warmth of Father’s embrace.

Mother, do not be angry.

She looked at me, and the fire in her eyes softened by half. Seizing the opportunity, I pressed a kiss to her cheek. Her expression melted completely. Father stood nearby, watching us with a gaze of unimaginable gentleness. Yet peaceful days never last long. On the day of my third birthday, a grand banquet was held within the imperial palace. The empress harbored a deep fondness for Mother and had specifically sent word desiring to see the little daughter of the general’s manor. Mother was simultaneously overjoyed and anxious; this would be my very first time entering the palace. She had begun preparing my attire half a month in advance. Pink was too lively, lacking proper composure. Ivory white was too pale, lacking joy. Soft pale yellow was lovely, yet she feared I might stain it. Finally, she selected a pale purple dress, the hem intricately embroidered with delicate silver butterflies. With her own hands, she combed my hair and pinned a tiny pearl hairpin in place. In the mirror, I looked as obedient and pristine as a jade doll stepped straight out of a painting. Mother’s eyes grew hot with unshed tears.

A Ninh must be very well-behaved today.

I nodded.

Well-behaved.

Still uneasy, she added further instructions.

No running.

I nodded.

No running.

No climbing the railings.

No climbing.

No touching the imperial weapons.

I hesitated. Her eyes immediately narrowed. I hurriedly chimed in.

No touching.

Only then was she satisfied. Father walked in wearing his formal court robes, pausing for a moment in sheer astonishment. Mother looked up at him.

Does she look nice?

Father looked at me and said with utmost earnestness.

Nice.

I lifted the hem of my skirt and twirled around. The pearls on my hairpin swayed gently. Mother smiled a brilliant smile. In that fleeting moment, she perhaps truly believed she could raise me into a gentle, delicate young maiden. Upon entering the palace, I was indeed exceptionally well-behaved. When the empress scooped me up into her arms, I obediently addressed her as Your Majesty. When the empress dowager bestowed pastries upon me, I obediently expressed my gratitude. When the various noble madams praised my resemblance to Mother, I obediently offered sweet smiles. Mother sat beside me, her back straightening with pride. Father stood outside the hall, overhearing the praises from within, rarely letting a look of unconcealed smugness show on his face. Until, following the banquet, the empress led Mother away to admire the newly bloomed peonies. Two palace maids held my hands as we strolled along the floral path. In the distance, a group of young imperial princes were practicing archery at willow targets. They were all quite young, wielding miniature bows fitted with blunt, cloth-wrapped arrowheads. At first, I faithfully remembered Mother’s commands. No running. No climbing. No touching. Yet a tiny arrow went whizzing through the air, grazing a willow branch before tumbling down into the grassy patch below. I came to a halt. A palace maid coaxed me gently.

Little miss, let us go find your mother.

I refused to budge. Another young prince missed his mark, drawing the mockery of those around him. His face flushed bright crimson as he hurled his bow onto the grass.

This bow is terrible.

I stared at the bow. Something within my heart felt as though it had been lightly scratched. Before the maid could restrain me, I darted forward on my short legs and picked up the bow. The young prince stared at me in shock.

What are you doing?

I said.

Trying.

His eyes widened in outrage.

This belongs to me.

I handed the bow back to him.

Draw it.

He let out a huff of indignation, yet lacked the strength to pull the string. I looked from him to the bow.

You are small.

His face flushed an even deeper shade of red.

You are the small one.

I refused to argue. Retrieving the bow once more, I planted my feet firmly, adopting the stance Father used daily. The bow was by no means light. Yet having spent my childhood hugging heavy gold rings, wrestling wooden horses, and tossing porcelain teacups, my arms possessed considerable strength. Gritting my teeth, I pulled the bowstring back inch by inch. Absolute silence fell around us. The palace maids were pale with terror. Mother spun around from afar, the smile instantly vanishing from her face. Father rushed over in panic from outside the hall. But it was far too late. I released my grip. The blunt-tipped arrow soared through the air and struck dead-center the red silk ribbon hanging from a willow branch. The red silk ribbon fluttered down with a soft rustle. Everyone in the garden stood frozen in astonishment. I turned back to look at Mother, hoping for her praise, only to find her clinging to a trellis with tears welling in her eyes. The empress was the first to burst into laughter.

Truly a general’s daughter through and through.

Mother’s complexion turned even paler. The young prince suddenly burst into tears.

She stole my bow and called me small.

I furrowed my brow.

You are small.

His crying grew even louder. Father dashed to my side, hurriedly snatching the bow away from me. Mother arrived as well, dropping to a crouch. She looked at the blades of grass clinging to the hem of my pale purple skirt, then at the red friction marks glowing across my palms, her voice trembling as if about to shatter.

A Ninh, what did you promise Mother?

I lowered my gaze to my own hands, then glanced at the red silk ribbon lying upon the ground. I spoke in a quiet voice.

I did not touch the weapons.

Mother froze. I offered a clarification.

It was a small bow.

Father closed his eyes. The empress laughed on uncontrollably. Yet at that exact moment, a young heir clad in fine brocades stepped forward from the crowd, pointing directly at me as he shouted aloud.

She is nothing but a wild girl, not like a proper young lady at all.

The laughter echoing throughout the garden abruptly ceased. The young heir was older than me by perhaps two years, wearing a silk robe with a jade pendant swinging at his waist, his expression brimming with supreme arrogance. He pointed at me once more, repeating his accusation.

She is not like a proper young lady.

The tears that had previously lingered at the corners of Mother’s eyes vanished entirely. Slowly, she stood to her feet. Her features were delicate, and ordinarily even harsh words from her felt no heavier than flower petals blown by the wind. Yet in that singular instant, she pulled me behind her back, her voice remarkably soft.

The young lord would do well to weigh his words carefully.

The young heir instinctively retreated half a step under her gaze. However, emboldened by the crowd surrounding him, he puffed out his chest once more.

I am speaking the truth.

Young ladies should concern themselves with the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Instead, she steals archery bows and insults the imperial prince.

She is nothing more than a wild little girl.

I understood his words. He was calling me wild. Looking down at my attire, I saw the blades of grass smudged against the hem of my pale purple skirt and realized my hairpin had slipped askew. Yet I felt I still looked lovely. Mother had spent a very long time styling my hair that very morning, and I refused to let her efforts go to waste. Peeking out from behind her back, I looked at him with utmost seriousness and posed a question.

Do you know how to shoot?

The young heir choked on his breath. I pressed on.

Can you pull a bowstring?

His face flushed bright crimson red.

Whether I know how or not has nothing to do with you!

I nodded my agreement.

Then you do not know.

The garden fell into profound silence once more. Father stood close beside me, raising a hand to rub the bridge of his brow. Mother’s hands trembled faintly.