Altan thought they wouldn't escape the Forbidden City alive. The place was invested with arrays of armed soldiers, hunting them like a pack of hungry wolves.
They were nearly captured. Her heart, her stupidly blinded heart for that foreign Prince—had stolen her focus away when she saw a large parchment splaying on the Emperor's desk. The red fabric was adorned with a golden dragon and phoenix, the Chinese symbol of prosperity and harmony. On it was written some sort of a date with Shao Wei's name and someone else… a woman, another Chinese royalty. Her heart stopped. The rap of soldiers' footfalls, their leader commandos, and Timur's warning call sounded like a muffled noise in the distant background.
Nights of formulating their well-devised plans evaporated into thin air, and she was left stunned. Had Timur not come to his aid, it would be her name written on the unmarked mound right next to Lin Feng. But unfortunately, her moment of lapse had cost Timur a serious wound on his chest.
"Hey," she said, from the side of his bed.
Timur's eyes creak open, his breathing slow and labored.
She peered closer, looking at the remnant of his abused skin mapped on the blood-sodden bandage on his wound. "Timur, I should've…—"
The tight grip of his hand stalled her words. He just stared at her with his tired, golden eyes and paid her a knowing look before he drifted back to sleep.
"He is fine for now." A wizened voice from behind her said. As they ran out of options, a man who claimed to be a healer transpired in front of them and offered them to use his rickshaw and a refuge in his hut. "But the poison of Moon Blood that laced on the arrow is a toxin of cruelest crafting," he recited from his medical scroll. "Designed to prevent coagulation hence slowly ebb the victim's life away with every drop of blood."
The arrow penetrated deep into Timur's chest, perforating his lung. It seemed unfair to let a courageous, brave man like him suffer this kind of slow, agonizing death in her stead.
Mr. Lu reached into his coat and offered her a flask. She stared at it. Although a Hun woman was allowed to drink, she had never had anything stronger than half a cup of wine at the Horse Racing Festival. But she was so raw with sorry and anger that she accepted the flask, unscrewed the cap, and tipped the content down her throat. She very quickly choked, it tasted awful, like a worse combination of rotten berry juice and horse urine. She swallowed as hard as she could.
"Easy there," Mr. Lu chuckled. "You still want to take him back to your homeland, don't you?"
"You know we are…—?"
"Huns?" he finished for her. "No. not at first," he admitted. "Only after you speak."
"But you still decide to help us?"
"If you see someone drowning, would you throw a rope? Or would you let them drown?"
She raised her brow at him. "Certainly your Emperor disagrees with you. You will too… if you know who we are."
"I'm a doctor. My job is to make my patient feel better, not interrogate them. You can say or not say what you want," he smiled knowingly. Perhaps this was how the spirit of their ancestors rewarded their benevolence towards Lin Feng.
He patted her hand gently. "Besides, I can see the torment in your eyes. Whatever it is, I hope you will soon find your peace."
"Thank—… thank you," she heaved. Her eyes watered, but she grew warm on the inside.
It was ironic; she'd never thought she'd been particularly sheltered, having grown up among hunters and warriors, following her father through various war and hunting trips. But the truth of people's cruelty and ability to destroy each other had never been something she'd been confronted with before today. Yes, she saw people die, faces she recognized being killed on the battlefield. But watching someone she held dear fighting for his life made it feel raw and real.
She knew despite Shao's lack of seriousness, the man was ambitious…..and conniving. She could imagine his aspiration to rise in power after being in his father's shadow for so long, being pushed to the side. He must have seen his engagement to the Emperor's daughter as the golden ticket to the throne.
It all suddenly made sense to her: Why hadn't Shao shared anything about his engagement? Why hadn't he delivered his side of the deal to kill the Khan or Shan-Yu and put her on the Mongol's throne as he promised?
"Shao…" she whispered. "How could you?"
She couldn't recall being this exhausted in ages. After sleeping rough for days, she missed her home, she missed her bed. She was hungry too. What she wouldn't give for a bowl of oat porridge and rabbit stew surrounded by her countrymen on a night like this. She missed Asanthi and her beloved mare, Zorig. She wished to wrap her arms around them and feel a little bit better about the world. But all she had was hard liquor from a stranger's flask and her heart flopping outside her body like a dying fish.
She secretly hoped she would die in this crusade, so she didn't have to face her life. She wished she just fell like rain from the sky, ran its journey through the mountain and river and sea, before evaporating and vanishing into the sky.
And as just as she thought fate couldn't get much worse, a hard rap came on the door.
A messenger handed her a scroll. "Read in secrecy," he said. That was enough to stir her heart.
The message bore no name, no signature, written on something akin to a piece of rags. Even then she recognized the sloppy Mongol cursive by heart. It was from the Chinese Prince who had ripped her soul and heart.
It said: The Emperor's alive.
Shao Wei paced through the palace corridor, watching the glimpse of a familiar-yet-unfamiliar painting of his predecessor on the wall for the umpteenth time. He had been left waiting for nearly three hours. And if that was not disrespectful enough, no one, not even the maid-servant, let him go to his quarters for a respite after the long journey.
"Princess Zetian," he said flatly when a familiar glimpse of the Emperor's eldest daughter.
"Cousin Shao Wei, I believe you are here to meet my father," she seemed to be equally appalled to be put into the situation of meeting him.
"Isn't that obvious?" he said, moving his robe eloquently as he stood. "And my sister has also arrived. She is resting in the Harem. I'm sure he wants to see her too," he spelled out with a deriding scoff.
Zetian held her peace. "Unfortunately he can't see you today. Maybe you can go home to the Wei Palace and come back in…. four weeks' time?"
Shao spun where he stood, "I beg your pardon?" He narrowed his eyes, looking perfectly agitated. "I would appreciate it if he could tell me a little earlier, so I don't have to waste two perilous weeks of crossing China for nothing!"
Zetian huffed but held her grace. "Have you not heard?"
"Heard what?"
"He was stabbed in the chest," she said. "Someone attempted to assassinate him."
Another rapid rap soon followed, and another familiar figure entered.
"Father!" Shao saluted when the older man dressed in fine silk poised in front of him. Princess Zetian was relieved to be excused from the scene.
"Shao Wei, it's good to see you," his father said, embracing him.
Over with all the formality, Shao Wei jumped to the point. "What had happened? When was... this?"
"Two days ago," Wei Zhang said gravely. "He is stable and recovering, but we are speaking of weeks and months… and days of critical condition ahead."
"Did we know who did this?"
"No… not yet. However, Admiral Zhi said the culprits had this assassination neatly planned and were very careful and meticulous. It seemed like they knew exactly the layout of all this palace secret passage and the timing of the Guards' rota. I've sent Master Peng to track them down. They are heading north. I think he will get to them in a matter of days. "
Shao was silenced for a moment. What had just happened? Had Altan…? That meant his plan was…
He smiled inwardly but schooled the most solemn, serious expression. "Let's just call this karmic justice."
"What?! Son, how could you...?"
"Don't have to pretend in front of me, Father," Shao shook his head. "Do you think I blind enough to see? All these years you want this throne badly. HIS throne."
The color of his father's face changed at his indictment. "Shao Wei!"
"I'm done playing your game," Shao replied calmly. "But I still don't get it. How could you, of all men, side with the man who had murdered my mother?"
"I told you before, that wasn't the Emperor's doing!"
"Then who is it?" Shao demanded.
"I have no idea, Shao Wei, you have to believe me!" his father glared at him. "You don't know your mother. You don't know who she really is!"
"Then, tell me!" Shao was equally incensed.
"She was…." Shao could see his father immediately swallowing back his words as if there was a dark secret he should never be a part of. "With her insistence and stubbornness she had made enemies in high places!" he reworded simply. Shao knew none of the women in the Harem, wives and courtesans alike, were fond of his mother, but he thought it might be down to the fact she was the only wife who managed to bore their clan a son. And her status as a foreign Princess didn't favor her position in the Chinese political area much either.
"Are you saying some elusive power murdered her? Tell me, who is more powerful, more able… than the Emperor?"
"Shao, being the Emperor is not a license to do whatever you pleased! And just because your uncle has the power to do so doesn't mean he would abuse it to do such a despicable thing! Have you forgotten? Your mother was the one who made the unpopular decision to withhold your sister's engagement to the Khan. This, by far, was the worst political move in our generation!"
"Well, she was doing the right thing because there is no way I'll let that scoundrel touch my sister!" Shao snapped at him.
His father glared at him. "My son! You might be born into this throne. Your destiny to reign this great nation may well have been written in stars. But to survive leadership, you would have to understand the needs of your country! You must understand what kind of sacrifice you need to make for the greater good, including giving up your happiness!"
"Are you saying it's a heroic thing for you to let my mother die?" Shao accused him openly.
Wei Zhang balled his fist, closing his eyes and allowing his anger not to get the best of him. "No, Son. I grieved this loss each and every day, but let me tell you this—whatever happened to your mother, she brought this upon herself. She had seen it coming. People… some people inside this Palace saw her as who she is!"
"Then who is she, Father? Is she the penance of your indecisiveness? A convenient target? A peace offering?" Shao raged.
"She is a Hun outcast exiled from her country!" Wei Zhang covered his mouth when he saw the disbelief look in his son's eyes.
"No..." Shao took a step back.
"Son, she is not the woman you knew. And you! If you are not careful, you'll end up the same way too!"
"I don't believe you!" Shao shouted as he stormed towards the door.
"It's the truth!"
"We are done here," Shao announced before slamming the door.
Moonlight streamed through the slight opening in the bedroom window, illuminating the desk with a white-blue glow. A stack of parchment, an open bottle of ink laid abandoned in its corner, discarded by its owner by a careless assurance that he would be back to completing the task the following day.
The Emperor laid alone in the deserted room, fatigue and exhaustion were killing him, but sleep was nowhere to be found.
His eyes traveled to the secluded alcove on the far end of his vast bedchamber.
The altar was small, but it was nothing modest. The pillar was made of agarwood, carved with achingly detailed dragon, phoenix, coin, and curls of smoke. The table was gilded with pure gold and adorned with intricate lotus flowers tapestry that had taken months to make. Among the incense and candles hung a picture equally arresting in craftsmanship and detail. Her smiling face was immortalized by the expert brushstroke of the country's most notable painter.
The Lady of the Sun, it read.
He would never forget the first time he saw her during the Lunar New Year celebration. Straight-backed and immeasurably elegant in her sweeping golden was a surprise considering he always perceived Mongol as a nation of backward people, remnants of the unlightened and barbaric age of humanity.
He remembered how he berated Wei Zhang for including a stranger, a non-Chinese woman on the guestlist.
"As much as I can tolerate your casual acquaintances with the Huns. I can't let her come."
Wei Zhang only chuckled softly in response. "Brother, you are the Emperor. You are the one who makes the rules. You can invite whoever you wish."
"But she is a political outcast," he argued.
"...who is exiled by her own brother because she disagreed with the way he ruled their country," Wei Zhang added, unhelpfully. "She is not a criminal."
"The Khan put her in prison, he must have a very good reason to do so to his own sister," he stressed out.
"Kaidu often overreacts. " Wei Zhang waved his concern "Trust me. She is harmless as a dove."
He could only sigh at his brother's rhetoric. It wasn't a new thing Wei Zhang often could be deeply infested on a woman. This Hun Princess certainly wasn't his first.
"This is different, Zhang. This woman isn't even a virgin; she is a widow of a departed rich merchant. It is a bad resume if…."
"Who says I'm interested in her?" Zhang interrupted. "Look, I've promised Ellak that I would take good care of his widow. And now he is dead, and she has no one to turn to." Wei Zhang appealed to his side of humanity.
Xiongnu mentally rolled his eyes. Since when did his brother's stupid promise to his departed socialite acquaintance become his problem?
"But what if the other guest heard..."
"We can introduce her as a princess from Uyghur," Wei Zhang said quickly. "They are our new allies. And with her looks, it'll be passable anytime."
By then Xiongnu knew any contention or argument would be a complete waste of time. "Fine," he relented unwillingly. "But make sure to ask the royal tailor to dress her appropriately for the occasion."
He was immeasurably surprised.
Not just by how beautiful she was or how elegant she looked donned in a formal, golden embroidered ruqun. But also how well she carried herself among the guests.
There was nothing barbarian about this woman. The courtiers, diplomats, and other notable men tendered their introduction, and she engaged with them in the most gracious language that would send any Chinese scholar to shame.
"So, you are the princess my brother talked about. I heard you are rather excellent in the art of poetry, is that true?" he finally said when she arrived in front of his throne to salute him.
"Prince Wei Zhang had been too kind," she said.
"And I heard you are rather excellent in the linguistic department," he added.
"Due to my late husband's trading business, we've traveled far and wide… and I have a rare opportunity to learn Turkish and Arabic and proficient art of calligraphy. I'm also equipped in commanding more formal and practical subjects such as calculus, literature, and….. Horse-riding." There was a naked delight as she said the last word. "Perhaps….if the needs arise, your wives and the children will find it useful."
Honestly, when Wei Zhang spoke about giving her a suitable position, Xiongnu was thinking about giving a lady-in-waiting for one of his wives, but this foreign princess seemed to have a different idea.
"You do not look sufficient of age to teach my wives," he said, noticing she was not that much older than his youngest concubine. "How old are you?"
He could see her patience suddenly broke from the comment, but she held her grace. "Enough to know that knowledge and age do not always go hand in hand, Your Excellency," she said, ignoring a few gasps from a group of courtesans behind her.
"Is that so?" he said, raising his hand to calm the dismayed crowds. Her words were offensive and inappropriate but witty answers nonetheless. And he felt a sharp note of interest covered with the faintest coating of curiosity grow in his heart.
"With all due respect, Your Honor. First impressions can often be very misleading."
Xiongnu found Shin-Ye, her given Chinese name, intriguing. Bold, to be sure. Clever and… unpredictable. His children seemed to enjoy her presence, his wives less so, to which he conjectured it was due to envy or fear of new competition in the Harem.
But she was arrogant. Direct. Unswerving. Utterly headstrong to her core. It was no wonder that the Great Khan found her insufferable.
There was once an issue with one of the consort maid-servants who was told to steal from the palace treasury. Consort Ruyi, his youngest wife, the owner of the maid-servants, obviously denied all involvement and called her maidservant a slanderer who tried to tarnish her well-earned reputation. And that she was to be punished without trial.
After a great deal of hassle, Shin-Ye managed to persuade the eunuchs guarding Consort Ruyi's quarter for access. But the woman was not interested in discussing anything with her, even when Shin-Ye offered her wedding band from her late husband as restitution for the maid's "mistake" of defamation.
And Shin-Ye couldn't take 'no' for an answer. Hence the matter landed on the Emperor's lap.
"My commitment to my wives must not be compromised," Xiongnu told the throng of eunuchs as Consort Ruyi presented her defense with her fellow sister wives drawing their support behind her.
In turn, he glared at Shin-Ye warningly. "Could you explain this?" This stubborn foreigner had caused enough havoc without taking the entire harem to his presence, crying their complaints.
But her answer was nothing but repentant. "You claimed you wish to unite nations under your wing, to raise a generation of the greatest kingdom, not as an unmerciful tyrant, but as their protector—A leader trusted and respected by their subject. You spoke of building something greater than yourself—a nation where no man was above the law. But where is justice when this maidservant needs it?"
Her reply provided him with a blitz of moral enlightenment. As if he suddenly saw the flipside of the coin. He saw Consort's hubristic attitude irritating. She might have been a noble, but one of the worst of the species, manipulative, greedy, self-satisfied, and downright cruel.
"You have an excellent memory," he praised. While Consort Ruyi, being completely oblivious to the shift of situation, fell on her knee and demanded the execution of her maid-servant and implored him to expedite this outsider back to her homeland—supposedly for her impertinence of daring to challenge her.
"Chi-Fu?" he beckoned and gave the Councillor a signal to tender the truth.
"Ms. Shin-Ye was right. According to law, one can't have a trial without concrete proof and thorough reasoning of motives and implications in front of the council." Chi-Fu's statement was met by the general murmur of the stirred crowds.
Decidedly, he summoned the eunuch to run their investigation before dismissing the Consort and warned her with contempt, never to waste his time with such trivialities again.
Furiously, Ruyi stormed out of the hall, tearing the ring Shin-Ye had surrendered to her from the eunuch's hand. "Pity this man who married a scoundrel!" she declared angrily in front of the gawking crowds and flung the object with a universal gesture of fury and derision towards the opened window. The Consort took the last hateful glare toward Shin-Ye before disappearing behind the door.
Consort Ruyi's sudden childish fit in response nearly caused him to laugh, only to hold himself at the sight of Shin-Ye, still standing alone before him, her hollow glance staring towards the retreating crowds.
He could see a flash of brokenness, a hint of fragility that was shown like a gaping hole in the confident tapestry that he had seen of her minutes earlier. Although as a monarch he had distanced himself from the world of sentiment for the sake of justice and fairness, it didn't mean he was incapable of empathy. This stranger from another land had offered something of great value to help someone she didn't know, only to see it thrown back to her face.
"Why did you interfere?" he asked her, not commandingly.
"How could I not?" she said, voice rough with fresh grief. "Isn't that handmaid the same as I?"
"She is a servant."
"And a human too," she said firmly.
"And you have acted and spoken in a manner like no man would, let alone a woman," he rebutted sternly.
Within a split second, the spirit of her defiance was resurrected. "Are you suggesting that opinion is made less when it is voiced by a fairer kind, Your Majesty?"
Although his annoyance was mounting, he kept his calm and added tactfully, "Men in this country found women with great voice unappealing," he paused, gauging her reaction. "...especially the Emperor."
She stared at him tightly. "I merely represent the voice of the multitudes that may be too afraid to say, Your Majesty. Isn't the public opinion the scale a good monarch should constantly consult?"
He huffed. "If that's your opinion, I can't let you stay in the Harem." There was no way he could keep a woman with this kind of independent mindset spreading influence to his other wives and daughters.
"My apologies for my bluntness, Your Majesty." By observing her bold posture, it wasn't at all a statement of remorse. "But are you saying…..you feel threatened by my opinion?"
Truly remarkable. And before he managed to fire another clever rebuttal, she continued, "As a monarch of a great nation, which do you think is better: to be loved and respected….or to be obeyed and feared?"
He was dumbfounded. She got him not once, but twice.
"I am under no obligation to divulge the answer," he said, knowing that his next words would doubtless cause Chi-Fu's eyes to fall out of their sockets. But she was right. He shouldn't feel threatened by others' opinions even when it didn't perfectly align with his. "I will allow you to teach my daughter and wives as you see fit, providing that head," he qualified quickly. "...never higher than mine."
The impulsive surprise of the unexpected plot twist was plain in her eyes.
"Understand, Your Majesty". He could see a glimpse of victory on her lips, which she quickly concealed with a respectful salute when Chi-Fu and Prince Wei Zhang entered the room.
"Venerable Fa Zhou and his entourage just returned from their successful mission to the north carrying bountiful gifts and confectionary in tow," Wei Zhang explained, looking expectantly towards the only lady in the room. "I wish to indulge Ms. Shin-Ye for dinner with several delicacies familiar to her home."
"As you wish," he granted. Shin-Ye's lecture about monarchy and dominion still echoed in his head when he dismissed them.
"Tell me, Chi-Fu," he declared after the two disappeared behind the closed door. "Do you agree with my decision on this case?" he said, referring to the Consort's dispute with her handmaid.
"On the life of my ancestors and my vow to be loyal to the Emperor, I will stand with whatever decision you make, Your Majesty."
"Even if I decide to execute the maid-servant without a fair trial?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound like a disappointed school teacher when his classroom gave him a wrong answer.
Not wanting to invoke the Emperor's anger, Chi-Fu fell onto his knee, trembling. "Y-Your Excellency is a man blessed with infinite wisdom. I….I wouldn't dare question your judgment."
He sank into his seat, feeling numb. Admittedly today he was wounded twice. Once by the revelation that indeed his subject mortally feared him…. and once by this Hun woman whom he was beginning to begrudgingly admire.
A sudden, hurried footfall snapped him from his nostalgia. The room was dark and empty, but he knew a lot of eyes were quietly guarding him against all directions.
"It's Prince Wei Zhang, Your Excellency," announced Admiral Zhi who watched the door. He nodded weakly and let his brother in.
"Brother, how are you feeling?" Zhang sat by his bedside, smiling somewhat sombrely.
He coughed a little when he tried to speak up. "My chest certainly had seen better days."
"I've asked Di-Tan to contact the best healer around the country. You'll be well again in no time," Zhang held his hand in his like they almost never did since they were kids. "Why…. are you smiling?"
Xiongnu chuckled weakly. "Di-Tan is the best in the country. And since when is the last time we could talk civilly to each other like this, Zhang?"
The younger prince sighed. "I know. Perhaps, this unfortunate situation helped me—us— to see beyond our differences and put our contrasting viewpoints into perspective."
Xiongnu shut his eyes. An ambush a few days ago just proved how close they were to a full-blown war. The Huns were getting acutely serious and the Chinese obviously couldn't just sit still. "No, you were right, Zhang. I should've given Wei Ting to the Khan. Perhaps we could avoid all this suffering."
"Maybe," came Zhang's hollow reply as his eyes landed on the sight of Shin-Ye's altar at the secret corner of the room. Maybe, they could save her too. "I understand your regret, Brother. But we can't dwell in the past. What's done is done."
Xiongnu stared at him. No, you don't, he wanted to say. You have never owned the world but couldn't have the woman you wanted—the ONLY woman you wanted. And then you have to watch her marry your own brother… only to die when she….He shook the thoughts away. Now was not the time for melancholy. "How's the situation on the frontline."
"The Huns performed a few attacks. We lost six villages, but they had suffered a sizable loss. The size of their army is nothing compared to ours," his brother explained.
"Kaidu is a clever man; he will figure it out. We need to be watchful."
"I know. But don't you worry about it now. You have to concentrate on getting better," his brother voiced his honest concern. "Anyway, it's late. I think I've overstayed my welcome. I should leave you to rest. You need plenty of it." Zhang gave his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.
"Actually, Zhang, I want you to have this." His trembling hand managed to pull his ancestral jade ring out of his finger. The Emperor Seal was embedded within it, marking the power of its beholder. "I've written my final writ… so if I…..—"
"Brother," came Zhang's pained voice. "I know... we did not get along very well in recent years. And, yes, I covet your throne... once, but since..."
"Shin-Ye died?" And there was silence.
"Look, I don't mean to…"
"You told me we couldn't dwell in the past," Xiongnu cut him.
"But I… I never…—" tell you how sorry I am. He wished to say, but the words died off.
"I know," Xiongnu gave his brother's hand a warm squeeze and a bitter smile. Because it was too late now to mend anything because there was nothing to be mended. The love of his life had long gone. "And let me tell you this... I forgive you, Wei Zhang. I've forgiven you long ago."
Shao Wei waited.
He waited for four weeks. Even though he loathed the thought of abiding in the territory of his uncle, his ego forbade him to admit defeat and return to the Palace of Wei. If he had to wait for four weeks for him, hell he would make his stay the most perilous four weeks in the Forbidden Palace's history. So far, he had hosted at least three socialite parties and two Harem soirees, of course with the element of alcohol and gambling involved.
His atrocious antics finally caught the attention of the Emperor's eldest daughter, Princess Zetian, who came to his quarter, perhaps to deliver the wordy rebuke on appropriate social decorum.
"Did my father tell you to come here?" Shao said, staring into the depth of his bottle. "Or is it your father? If they think sending a woman will give a better persuasive edge, well...they are wrong."
"Cousin Wei, why do you always think that we all nobility are nothing but cunning people?" Shao put his flask down, looking at the woman in front of him.
"Aren't you all?" he chuckled derisively, taking another sip. "But sending you to talk me out of this?" he gestured towards the disarrayed mahjong table and empty bottles. "Now, that's a coward."
"No, I came on my own accord," she said levelly.
"Oh! Come on. That's impossible! I know you hate me. In fact, everyone, even the ants that live in the crack of Harem wall knows you hate me!"
"That's not wrong." She took the liberty to sit on the empty seat in front of him.
"Then, why are you here?" he asked squarely.
"I come here because I overheard you and your father a few weeks ago—arguing," she explained.
"Oh, you're worried for me?" he tilted his head and chuckled sarcastically. "How sweet!" He raised the bottle towards her, poured half of its content into the teacup, and made a universal gesture of offering her a toast which she ignored.
"Is it because your father wishes us to wed that you are becoming this…. civil to me? Unlike the little girl I knew who punched me on the nose for calling her ugly." He took another sip and let out a blissful sigh. "You are such a good girl, Zetian."
Zetian took a deep breath, willing her emotion not to be riled. "It's true, you know…"
"What is?"
"About your mother."
"That she is a political outcast? Well, so what? "
"Not that part," she said, eyeing him pointedly. "It is true that my father won't ever harm Lady Shin-Ye, let alone assemble a plot to kill her. Quite the contrary, he was the only one who stood by her when no one—not even your father—did, including the matter of giving Ting Ting away to the Khan."
Shao narrowed his eyes. So had his uncle sided with his mother all this while? Impossible! "You are his daughter, should I trust you?"
"Look, I have my reason to dislike you, Shao," Zetian responded to his rhetoric. "But it has nothing to do with the throne… or anything that you may think of."
"Try me."
"When I was small," Zetian began. "I always envy my Father's treatment of you. He favored you greatly. At first, I thought because you are his future successor—or because you are China's future hope. Despite your… sacrilegious attitude and failure to comply with rules to the standard of monarchy, he always sees something good in you. He treated you as if… as if you were the son he never had."
Shao scoffed. "Geez, thanks."
"I resent my father. We grew distant," she sighed. "It wasn't until I was in my teens I recollected events in the past that I finally understood why."
Shao placed his flask down. "And why is that so?"
She finally took the cup and drank it whole before continuing, "Let me tell you a story."
How could Father drink this thing?" Zetian asked in a disgusted voice. She sniffed the air as Shin-Ye used a tiny amount of sorghum to disinfect a scratch on her hand.
"It smells vile, like a three days old corpse!" her older distant cousin, Princess Mingzu, agreed.
"There are a lot of things men like that we won't understand, My Princess," Shin-Ye answered easily, taking the bottle for safekeeping.
"Like having way too many wives?" Mingzu blurted.
Shin-Ye raised her brows and laughed, she didn't expect such directness from four and six-year-old girls to broach such subjects.
Zetian frowned as she regarded her teacher. "Ms. Ye…before you came here, were you one of many?"
"No," she replied, voice softened in fond remembrance. "But my dear Elak certainly enjoyed his wine."
"That's him?" Zetian asked candidly when Shin-Ye revealed a small painting embedded inside her pendant.
"He died ten years ago."
Mingzu scooted closer to take a better look."You must like him a lot that you still keep his pictures… even when you're already betrothed to Uncle Zhang."
"Don't get me wrong, My Princess. Prince of Wei is very kind and charming. But Elak is something else," she smiled at the memory, "He was a man full of mystery. He was very cold and unwelcoming when I first met him. Turned up, he was the warmest person I know. He was the love of my life. My rock…...My home."
At this, Zetian propped herself up on her elbow and studied her. "Is that why you liked him?" she said innocently. "My father, I mean…. Because he reminded you of your dearly departed husband?"
Shin-Ye's breath left in a silent rush, and she scrambled for denial. The words she had allowed carelessly to roll out of her tongue rebounded in her head, damning her.
Her frantic reaction obviously gave away the non-verbal affirmation, and Mingzu's eyes widened with realization. "So that's why uncle Xiongnu moved his meeting room next to our tutoring class? He must like you too!"
"Uncle Zhang won't be very pleased though," Zetian said with fake disappointment. "But what you don't know….won't hurt you."
"Princess, it's not…"
"We won't tell anyone," Mingzu interrupted her flustered tutor. And Zetian giggled when her cousin mimicked a motion of zipping her lips.
"Relax, neither Father nor Uncle Zhang has ever been emotionally involved with any of his wives, not in a romantic sense anyway," Zetian added, pointing out."They are just… you know—property. And you are not the only one who is not married out of love—I'm sure at some point I will too. It's kind of the norm here."
"I think the smell of this sorghum wine has clouded your thoughts, My Princess." Shin-Ye finally gained her ground. "Now, I think it's time for your bath," she said briskly. Her tone was firm to avoid any further inquisitive call.
Yes, the Emperor was charming, charismatic, and compelling… but different. He had eight wives, a dozen concubines, five daughters, and a country to lead. And, regardless of how she felt… or how he felt — there was no place for a foreign princess, an exile, on the Chinese throne. And especially after her meddling in the tragedy of his newest concubine, Ms. Xia that led to her execution...
No, certainly not as a wife of the Emperor.
The Fa residence was ghostly quiet, bathed in the soft white of the rising moon. Grandma Fa was weaving in the sitting room, from where she could see beyond the garden arch the silhouette of her son—Zhou, sitting alone watching the same moon with the usual hollow stare she often witnessed of him since the night Fa Li died. And then Mulan left. Fa Zhou's heart which was already broken, crumbled further.
But Grandma Fa was a firm believer that trial would bring the best out of people. Looking at Zhou now, there were lines around his eyes—a mixture of worry and laughter etched into his skin. He had grown patient, serene, and wiser.
Two days ago, one of Mulan's comrades had taken Khan to their home, giving them hope that Mulan was still out there, alive and well.
Grandma Fa still remembered when Zhou bought Khan as Mulan's tenth birthday present. Khan had only been a colt at that time, a spindly young thing that was disliked by his previous owner because he was black. For arbitrary reasons, black wasn't a suitable color for Imperial Steed, and Fa Zhou seemed to favor him more for it.
At first, he wasn't sure whether Mulan would approve of his choosing, but the moment he mounted Mulan on Khan's back, everyone immediately knew the horse was perfect and they just fit together, like a piece of the puzzle. They were inseparable ever since.
Grandma Fa still recalled their conversation, how her young granddaughter told her she and Khan were very much alike—the parallel correlation of their situation—they were both disliked and unfavoured by the masses because they were different. They were both outcasts because they didn't conform to the norms of society. But for her, her granddaughter was not a village weirdo, yes, she was different, but she was something else—something…. special.
Her pondering was interrupted when a silhouette came into view. At first, from the gait and mannerisms, she thought the person was a man.
She put down her spindle, moved closer to the window, and gasped when she realized who the person was.
From quiet observation, she saw as Mulan made her way to her father, dropping hesitantly before him. For a moment, Zhou was stunned, unable to say anything—before his heart finally caught up with his brain and he scooped her daughter into his arm.
Tears threatened to fall as Grandma Fa witnessed the melancholic reunion, and how fiercely Zhou embraced his child because there was no other love in the world—like the love of a father to his daughter.
When Mulan reached Fa's residence, it was late. Although the cold, early winter frost froze the air, the sky was beautiful and clear, revealing the spread of constellations adorning the sky.
She rushed through the moon gate of the garden, only to realize she wasn't ready to confront the first person she encountered. But Fa Zhou didn't let his chance slip and swept his daughter into his arms.
"Baba, I'm sorry that I…—" He watched her swallow hard, her throat moving.
"That's okay. That's behind us," he said, releasing her, although the trace of disappointment in his voice was hard to miss. "Yes, you could at least tell me about… your plan. You are foolish, Mulan! What if someone in your regiment knew? What if Shang found out?"
"I… I thought you won't ever let me go if I…"
"Of course! What kind of father won't stop his daughter to face her own death by taking his place in war?" he snapped, causing Mulan to wince.
"I'm just… we've lost Mama. And I….I'm… I can't lose you too!"
At that moment, the anger and disappointment he'd held unto dissolved. The death of a loved one reminded him that sometimes one had to accept the thoughtful sacrifice of others. And why spoil the moment of reconciliation? He might as well rejoice, because his daughter, his brave and beautiful daughter, had returned safely into his arms, even if this were just for a little while.
After the wave of emotional reunion subsided, they both sat on the garden bench under the shadow of the plum tree.
"I'm truly sorry to cause you to worry," Mulan repeated, knowing perhaps his father spent a month beating around the bush before realizing the conspiracy she had with his brother, Ping to conceal her escape to the Wuzong camp.
And Fa Zhou was about to lecture her never to embroil her naive, gullible little brother to join her ruse again when he began noticing the physical changes in her. Her once soft, fair skin was now rough, calloused, and scarred in places. Her hair had lost its shine, replaced by a rough, ruddy, matted color beaten into it from months of living under the sun and the stars. He ran his fingers through her cheek and looked into her guilt-ridden eyes. There was something about them, something alike to fierceness that she normally tried to subdue. And the thirst for others' acceptance that often clouded her facade seemed to bear no evidence. She had made peace and was proud and comfortable with who she was.
"Perhaps…. perhaps there is where it went wrong," he admitted. "I tried to change you of who you are—who you were meant to be."
"Who am I meant to be?"
"Yes," he replied. And Mulan, just like her steed, was proven to be an exceptional breed of her kind. Even after many vocal objections from others that it was unseemly for a girl to learn to ride a horse proficiently, Mulan still relentlessly practiced.
"You know, we live in a society where boys are far more valuable assets than girls. I remember the look on my comrade's face when I told them my wife just gave birth to a girl," he smiled at the memory. "They encouraged me to try again… or to take another wife….perhaps then I'll have better luck. Then, when Ping was born, I promised myself that I wouldn't treat you any differently. That you are as much a person as he is. That you are entitled to learn and know what he knows. And I resolve to part a fraction of my knowledge to both of you, because I know I won't be there for you all the time, to protect and shield you from the world."
Mulan paid her father with a grateful smile. "Thank you….Baba."
"So," Fa Zhou shifted on his seat. "Enough of my story now. How about you? Rumour said you are the unlikely hero in the epic battles against the Huns?"
Mulan was stunned for a moment. The recollection of how she single-handedly tried to disperse the Huns right after she barely escaped the gallow herself. What was she thinking? She gave him the brief, sanitized account of her misadventure just with enough detail to make it believable. Of course, she skipped the part where she had to play thief and nearly got herself executed for the crime she didn't commit.
"I… I think I might be crazy," she said.
"My daughter, crazy?" her father replied, half amusedly.
"When I saw him, Shang, all cornered and surrounded…. And I...Can't imagine... —I was so ready to die for him," she admitted with a wince. "Not a single thought, doubt, or consideration comes to my mind."
"Daughter, saving your comrades is your warrior instinct."
She sighed. "It sounded more like weaknesses."
Fa Zhou's countenance softened. "I joined the army when I was seventeen," he began."Nine-month after intensive training I was sent for my first mission out of Huijing province to tame an uprising guerrilla movement. It was my first real taste of combat….. and also my first close encounter to death."
Mulan tilted her head. "You were shot?"
"Right here," he pointed at the spot near his sternum. "Barely missing my heart."
"When I was shot, can you guess what the last thing was that flashed through my mind? It was absolutely nothing. Back then, I was a single, ambitious bachelor. I spent my days perfecting my combat skill and religiously enriching my war strategy knowledge. I had many dreams, but I had no one to share them with….no ties….no bonds. No bittersweet memories. I was leaving nothing behind. Never experienced companionship, never been in love. And at that moment, all I felt was…..— loneliness and regret."
That moment Mulan wondered what Shang was thinking every time he was wounded.
"Just know that having something….someone to lose...makes life worth living," he added.
"Thankfully, you didn't see my training," she shook her head. "You should see the look on Shang's face. There is no good word to describe it."
"But here you are, an unlikely hero," he said quickly, taking her hand in his. "This is who you were meant to be."
Mulan's brow raised to express her confusion. "You are not… ashamed of me?"
"There is no shame in understanding who and what you are," he said, wrapping his fingers around hers a bit tighter. "Perhaps you are much more of a fighter than I ever gave you credit for. And perhaps someday, you will be one of China's greatest leaders."
She chuckled to herself.
"It's true," he replied to her non-verbal skepticism. "Leadership is not wielding authority—it's empowering people," he added. "Like what you did with your team. You've inspired them with your example. Moreover, what makes you think that caring for your husband's well-being makes you a lunatic?"
"After all that he did to me...and I can't help to feel this way?" Mulan huffed. "It doesn't make sense. I want to be able to hate him! To tell him to eat his words! But I…" she exhaled heavily. "That moment when I saw the Huns lashing their attack, encircling him—what came across my mind was what our regiment would do without a leader….and what would my life be without him."
Fa Zhou placed one of his hands on Mulan's shoulder. "Well, if this is any consolation to you, I can personally vouch that love does rarely make sense—especially the true ones."
"...And it hurts when I imagine if he is...gone."
He quietened down then, looking to the distant star, to the memory of the love of his life. For long seconds, he said nothing and then opened his mouth again. "I know…. I know it does."
"But I thought love supposed to be sweet, beautiful, and thrilling and not painful and agonizing like that?"
"Mulan, love is like a sword. The sharper it is, the deeper the cut."
She pressed her lips."But...I still loathe Shang for refusing to take your place, Baba."
"Mulan," came Fa Zhou's patient voice. "Men were brought up to want to do our best. Most of them anyway. It's a rite of passage as a man...to be able to clothe and feed his family….to take care of our wives, our children, even to the extent of his wife's extended family. That sense of responsibility—where you will one day step up and be the man of the house, providing and protecting everyone—is very real."
"Then why did he refuse to take your place? Isn't that part of his responsibility to take care of you?"
Fa Zhou stared at her. "If you were me, would you let your son-in-law take your place in the war? You are now a soldier, how would you feel if someone stepped in front of you and took your place?"
Mulan muted at that.
"You have to understand, Mulan—while protecting his family becomes man's priority, his country has to come first. As a soldier, Shang understands this very well. It's my pride to be able to defend my country; that's why he is not trying to take it away from me."
Mulan let out a loud sigh, detesting the hard fact around her. Why life had to be this complicated? "I hate war. I hate bad people."
Fa Zhou shook his head. "There's no good guys and bad guys. There are just people. Remember that there are heroes on both sides," he said. "And this is it. When we fight fire with fire—we all get burned."
Mulan could only smile at her father's seemingly infinite wisdom. "You know what Baba, I think you should be China's next emperor."
Altan, the Emperor's alive.
You must lay low and stay put where you are. The Imperial Soldier had gone to the north, seeking you. I'm sorry I can't come there in person. My father is here, watching me like an eagle. But when the situation improves, I'll find you and help you. I promise.
Altan had to stop and breathe for a few minutes, her heart pounding as she tried to wrap her mind around it. She had no idea how Shao Wei knew where to find her, not that it mattered much now.
Mission failed. Her only reason to risk anything, everything had boiled down to…. nothing.
"I'm sorry," came Timur's weak voice.
"Timur!" She stood and came rushing to his bedside. "How...how are you feeling?"
He groaned a little and locked eyes with her as if he knew what kind of bad news she was just reading. "I'm… sorry."
"Whatever for?" she said somberly, wondering whether Timur already had a premonition of this kind of devastating end. "You've done nothing wrong."
"No...I saw you…." he whispered, eyes felt with remorse. "You….you trust him. You really trust him."
The memories of Shao's marital announcement darkened her thoughts. She couldn't hide her tears as the emotion she tried to bury consumed her, claiming her breath. I should've listened to you, Timur, she wished to say.
"Wuzong camp. That arrow on the wrong target….Asanthi..." he said in broken words. "That's you. Isn't it?"
Altan's eyes widened. She was struck speechless.
He responded with a tired smile. "I know it's hard to… love someone from afar." His voice strangled as he started coughing. But he refused to stop even when she handed her a cup of herbal tea. So she decided to take the cloth and wiped the blood that was seeping through the corner of his mouth. "Believe me…. I know how it feels."
She suddenly felt stupid. She was foolish to believe her love for this foreign Prince would solve all of their problems and bring peace to both countries. She should've taken the nightmare that was real, over the dream that was a lie; marry Shan-Yu, and take the position of leadership she had always meant to be.
Never in millennia, she foresaw her sacrifice would end in tears and a broken heart. To add the salt to the wound, the Emperor of China had survived! How could she tell a dying warrior that his life was wasted for nothing?
"Princess," he touched her hand, breaking her thoughts. "You...must go."
She held his hand. "What do you mean?"
"Don't go back," he said laboriously, releasing her grip. So that you would leave this life of sorrow and betrayal behind, he wished to say.
"What? And leave you here?" she was aghast.
"It's okay," he coughed again. "I...I'll be fine."
"Timur, I won't leave you here! I won't let you die!"
"Dying is easy, My Princess. Living is harder," he said softly, stroking her trembling hands. "I'm sorry that that….that Chinese scoundrel broke your heart…. But none of us can go back, all we can do is our best. And...And sometimes the best you can do is to…. start over—but as for me, my body is broken, and I...—"
"No…. No. That's not true! I'm…. I'm going to save you!"
He smiled weakly. "You already did."
She fought hard not to let the tears fall from her eyes. From the beginning, Timur had volunteered to face whatever his fate was head-on. Even when the life in his golden eyes dimmed, they never showed an ounce of regret.
"I won't let you die here, in a strange land! This is not how you die!"
His smile widened. "How will I die?"
"You'll die of old age, respected by other warriors and surrounded by people who loved you. That's how a hero like you will die. Not here, not now. You are going back home, to our homeland….And I," she choked, but immediately spoke louder to conceal her breaking voice. "I will be there, holding your hand."
"That...I'd like that." He looked relieved as if the weight that drove him to this point had been lifted. He held her eyes until fatigue and drugs claimed his consciousness.
That evening, a hero found his resting place, finally free of all the burden of this world.
And as she promised, Altan took him to the place he called home.
She told her people to bury him in a clearing, by the foot of a hill, where there was an unobstructed view of the sparkling stars against the backdrop of the darkened sky. After Sukh gave the final benediction, she addressed the warriors to make this place a formal burial place for Hun's fallen heroes. There Timur would be surrounded by his people, people who loved and respected him. She thought he would appreciate the gesture.
The conversation he had with Timur the night before they infiltrated the Forbidden City jumped to the forefront of her memory.
He handed her a small rectangular box. "What's this?"
"Oh, a little something for you," he replied. "In lieu of the wine I ended up giving to Lin-Feng. Open it."
Her slender finger hesitated, but her curiosity urged her to lift the lid. She gasped as she touched the simple agarwood ring engraved with a golden rose. It was a far cry from what she usually received, but it was the most thoughtful.
"This… this is beautiful," she said with difficulty for she never expected such a sentimental gift. He couldn't be more explicit. She knew this. He dared not spell out how he felt. He couldn't. He shouldn't. But if she took this, it meant that she acknowledged what they'd shared.
"However I…―"
It was almost like he could smell her denial coming on, so he cut her off quickly with a clever retort. "I know it could never rival whatever riches and power offered by Shan-Yu or that Chinese scoundrel," he said with humor. "But I hope you will accept it. Here, let me." He zapped from where he was and suddenly teleported next to her as he slid the ring into her finger.
She was left cornered. "Thank….Thank you." And immediately pulled her hand out of his before her emotion took control.
"You're welcome," he answers automatically, looking slightly bereft as she puts a bit of distance between them.
Before he could think of a response, she disappeared behind the door, closing the barrier between them with a muted click.
Now, she was looking at the ring that had cost someone a small fortune, and grief for Timur, for her empty finger, and the emptier love that was growing on the place he had once stood, swamped her.
Timur's words were etched in her head. "None of us can go back, all we can do is our best. And sometimes the best we can do is to start over…"
She won't let his sacrifice go in vain. As many warriors before her had said, "Isn't it death that gives life meaning?"
With haste, she grabbed a quill and ink and wrote a brief message. She folded it and sealed it with a rope in haste, worried her heart would change what her mind had put to resolve.
She would marry Shan-Yu and help him lead her country.
"So, that's the story," Zetian concluded, lacing her hand and waiting for Shao's reaction. But he... he was just stunned as if he was shot in the head.
"I know you dislike my father, Cousin Shao. But in all his coldness and indifference, he is a good man. He isn't a perfect man, but he is a good man…..And he… From the beginning, he was enamored with Ms. Shin-Ye." Zetian felt the need to reaffirm her thought out loud. "...And I think your father knew that. "
Shao gritted his teeth. "No. You are lying."
"Everyone can attest to the fact that your father is very much obsessed with whatever the Emperor has. It's a public secret. But why does no one point this out? Because we all know it is not easy to be the second to the crown, to be the next choice, and to live constantly under someone's shadow. It's no surprise when your father suggested our engagement so that the throne..."
"Enough! That's not true!" For a fleeting moment, Shao's face was an open book of emotions. He took a shaky step back as if the ground swayed beneath him. Had he been wrong all this while? Had he failed to see the real villain of the story? "Leave!"
She grabbed his wrist, trying to console him. "Cousin Shao, I…"
"No! Leave!" he fumed. "Just go…. Leave me alone!"
That second, Zetian's heart had gone out to Shao. She might hate him, but many times more than once she'd seen him as more than just a conceited and selfish prince. She'd seen a son, hurt that his father had taken the woman he claimed to love and disappointed that he was doing so only to even the score with his brother. She saw the face of the young boy who had made mistakes and paid the price for it that nobody should. She saw the face of the strong man who had defied the odds and fought to survive. And there was something admirable about it that made her heart clench in her chest. But no, she wasn't ready to face her own emotion, and neither did he. So she left.
Shao Wei wished she never let Zetian finish her story. The thought of her soft-spoken, obedient mother secretly embroiling herself in an affair with someone he loathed - greatly disturbed him. What did she see in the Emperor? Was he not a stubborn, impossibly arrogant foreign man with countless wives? And how could he, an Emperor, who could bethrote anyone in China and was entitled to limitless number of beautiful virgins, had given his heart to an outcast? And why his father did this to his own brother? For what?
The irony between his mother's tragic love story and his current state of love life wasn't lost on him. He was certain the universe was playing a cruel prank by sending an average-looking commoner with an extraordinary personality like Mulan to his lap just to prove a point!
And he strangely found himself standing in front of the place he had been secretly avoiding: The Lotus Palace.
Pushing open the door, Shao takes a step into his mother's room. He hasn't been in here in years, not since his mother died, but the palace keeper decidedly kept things basically the same. The room is decorated with fresh, brilliant gold textiles and furnished with opulent wooden furniture, the same as it was when he was a kid. He swallowed hard at the unexpected flood of memories - a dozen quick images of his mother from before - before Ting Ting was born, before the political battle began, days when they were truly happy - at least that was his impression. Then he recalled the strange sadness in his mother's eyes when the Emperor entered the room, the stolen glance, the awkward silence, the unexplainable tension in the room even when both of them said nothing.
Yet now, everything suddenly made perfect sense.
There was a light tap on the screen. "Your Highness?" It was a quick, soft-spoken, anxiety-ridden whisper.
"Yes, Baoxi?"
"Princess, someone is looking for His Highness Young Prince of Wei. But I heard he is locking himself inside the Lotus Chamber."
"I believe he is resting, Baoxi. He wouldn't want to be disturbed," she said, thinking that it was best to give the man some privacy to concede with his own thoughts."Who's looking for him? Is it urgent?"
"A messenger, Your Highness."
"Bring him to me," she rose, gracefully signaled her handmaid to leave her, and shut the screen for more secrecy.
"He left in a hurry, My Princess," her servant explained, still wide-eyed, presenting her with a half-torn linen handkerchief bound with a piece of rope. Zetian unraveled it unceremoniously.
SHAO, I'M SORRY.
I'm sorry I failed our mission. I'm sorry that we have to take this trouble, this effort, and risk—all for nothing. Your uncle is still alive.
Asanthi was right. This plan is insane. A complete waste of time. It is foolish to think we—no I—can move mountains and change the world for the better. I couldn't, but perhaps you could. After all, you are the one expecting the throne in your hand….after you marry the Emperor's daughter.
Shao, I wish you all the best in the upcoming nuptials. I suppose I am not on the guest list. No, I have no grudge against you and hope you hold nothing against me. Let's forget everything that ever happened, I mean, everything—including our friendship. But please promise me one thing, when you are king, please spare my father…. my country, and my land.
ALS
Zetian froze, eyes wide with disbelief, breath caught in her throat. She read and re-read the message, waiting for some sort of clear path of action made known to her. Had Shao colluded with this foreign princess to kill her father and steal his throne?
How could Shao do this to his own family? How could he do this to the man that literally favored him and treated him as the son he never had? And how could her cautious, judicious father fail to see this? Allowing his heart and life nearly ripped twice by the hand of not one… but two foreign princesses?
Zetian folded and threw the parchment into the fire with such ire that Baoxi took one unconscious step back, but still dared to enquire.
"Bad news, My Princess?"
Zetian opened her mouth to reply but produced nothing. "Un...unexpected." She looked down into the fire, hoping her anger and disappointment dissolved as the parchment vanished into ashes. But nothing changed, the words were still like a rock to her skull.
"No, Baoxi…" and she stood up. "I mean, I must go. Please ask the maid to prepare the provision and clothing for one month's journey. But tell no one!"
"Yes… of…—of course, My Princess," Baoxi bowed before departing.
Zetian went limped on her daybed and released the breath she wasn't aware she was holding. Her chest pounded, and she forced a glass of water down her throat, spilling nearly half of it because her hand was trembling.
Oh, dear ancestor, I'm about to cry, she realized with a wave of exasperation. No. She told herself. You cry—you are admitting defeat. She gritted her teeth. I never cried over a man, and I'm not going to start now. She closed her eyes, and breathed out slowly. I won't ever cry over him… or whatever he did. I'll fight back!
And with a new resolve, she stood up, balling her fist.
I will make you taste your own medicine, Shao Wei. She swore. I will find the apple of your heart, your treasure, the people that you love….and I will hunt them! Hurt them! So you know how it feels to be me.