Chapter 68: Wu Xiaoqi’s Story (Part Two)

Today was the day the Princess’s household went out to purchase supplies.

Wu Xiaoqi thought the sleigh carriage was truly a marvelous invention. The Princess must be incredibly clever to have devised such a means of transport; it perfectly solved the difficulty of walking through deep snow. If only she possessed a fraction—just one ten-thousandth—of the Princess’s intelligence, she too might invent all sorts of new dishes, just like Sister Xiaochun.

“Hey, little black cook! Oh, and old Master Fu, are you two out shopping for supplies?”

At the sound, Wu Xiaoqi looked up. It was Sister Longan. Though they weren’t well acquainted, last time on a shopping errand, she’d come along with a few copper coins, asking Uncle Fu to bring back a bit of flour or something else for her. Those coins could hardly buy anything worthwhile, but still, she’d use them to purchase little things she fancied. Wu Xiaoqi felt the same way, fingering the few coins in her own purse. Here, unlike lowly servants elsewhere, they had private space, their own money, and their own wishes.

She nodded in silent acknowledgment. Uncle Fu went up to chat for a moment; as she expected, it was all in hopes of buying some sweets. Such a glutton, Wu Xiaoqi thought, but those sweet pastries cost five coins each, which was terribly expensive. As she got into the sleigh, she suggested to Uncle Fu that they could use the money to buy a bit of flour instead, and she’d make a whole steamer of desserts back at the kitchen—after all, there was some white cane sugar left.

Uncle Fu agreed to the plan, but cautioned her not to let Sister Ye find out, or they’d surely be scolded.

Wu Xiaoqi nodded gravely. Sister Ye could be truly fearsome when she set her mind to it.

Upon entering the city, they found the snow on the main roads was very shallow, having been cleared away. The sleigh carriage could still move along, and naturally drew many curious stares—such a contraption was novel and rare, unique to the Princess’s residence. Wu Xiaoqi couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride, lifting her chin as she looked at the townsfolk trudging along the roadside.

She had no idea that her former master happened to be among those onlookers, and that he caught sight of her.

After they finished their shopping, Wu Xiaoqi helped Uncle Fu carry the sacks—some filled with rice, some with millet, others with New Year goods. It was said the Princess would hand out red envelopes and gifts at the New Year, making Wu Xiaoqi all the more eager to see what she might receive.

She saw that, though the East Market was not as bustling as before, and the crowds much thinner, a few hooded figures were present, draped in foreign garments she did not recognize—likely followers of the Faith of the East, perhaps driven here from the lands of the Black-Clad Arabs for some reason. Wu Xiaoqi wondered what faces those hoods concealed.

Suddenly, she spotted her former master approaching. Alarmed, she whispered to Uncle Fu, then ducked under the sleigh, pressing herself against the cold snow and straining to hear what went on outside.

Snatches of her master’s and Uncle Fu’s voices reached her, enough to tell that Uncle Fu had shielded her from this misfortune.

On the way home, as Uncle Fu drove the sleigh, he asked if she’d gotten herself into trouble. Wu Xiaoqi hesitated—should she confess? If she revealed she was a runaway slave, would the Princess be angry?

She wavered only a moment before replying no. She felt Uncle Fu probably understood, and there was little point in hiding the truth. Fortunately, Uncle Fu let it pass, simply hoping luck would be on their side and the matter would remain undiscovered. As Wu Xiaoqi silently prayed for the heavens’ help, she caught sight of her former master, Young Lord Zhang, glaring fiercely from the roadside. That face she remembered all too well—he had beaten her with brambles, and scars still marred her arm from the thorns. Those wounds were his doing.

At that moment, a group of children’s voices drifted over in song:

“Country bumpkin Princess? Doesn’t know her place, doesn’t understand the fate of the realm, dares call herself a talented woman?”

Wu Xiaoqi paid little heed, but noticed Uncle Fu’s tight frown. She didn’t understand—having never been schooled—why those children would sing such a song.

Her real worry, though, was having been seen by her former master. Would she be able to go out shopping again? And not just errands—if she became a cook at the tavern, she would have to show her face in public. She was a person, after all; living in hiding was no way to live.

What a bother—she felt like the rotten mouse dropping in the Princess’s household.

“Xiaoqi, whatever trouble you get into, I believe the Princess will handle it—just as she sheltered us before.”

Uncle Fu’s calm reassurance eased her heart a little. Perhaps he was right; she trusted the Princess wouldn’t let her down.

But what she feared still came to pass. The next day, while she was busy cooking, she heard the Princess summon her.

Wu Xiaoqi had no time to clean off the smell of oil and smoke. If the Princess called, it must be important. Yet the location was strange—not in the Princess’s own quarters, but in the great hall for receiving guests.

Sitting in the sleigh carriage, letting the cold wind whip her face, she felt increasingly uneasy, distracted, until the servant driving the carriage called her to get out at the hall’s entrance.

No sooner had she arrived than she heard two all-too-familiar voices—one she detested, one she both missed and resented: her former master, and her father!

“Princess, according to the laws of Great Tang, this Wu Xiaoqi was sold to me by her father with a signed contract. I beg Your Highness to uphold justice for me! This wretched brat ran away from her master without permission!”

“Yes, yes, I knew nothing of this! I had no idea Qier would be so unruly as to run away. I am innocent—please see the truth, Princess!”

“Yes, yes—heh, Princess, a slave who runs away should be flogged twenty times, according to the law of Great Tang. Please deal with her by the statutes; I will have no complaint.”

“Where is the contract of sale?”

“Yes, Princess, here it is for your inspection!”

Wu Xiaoqi stood at the threshold, unwilling to enter. Was this the end of her life here? Would the beatings and the days without freedom begin again? Tears welled in her eyes, her heart in utter panic, yet Uncle Fu’s words echoed in her mind: the Princess will handle it.

She muttered it under her breath, clinging to it with all her faith.

Prompted by the servant, Wu Xiaoqi at last trudged in, head low, not daring or wishing to look around, feeling the weight of hostile, judging eyes.

Kneeling, she bowed her head, awaiting the Princess’s judgment. Humility and self-abasement crept over her like vines. In the end, she was only a slave, bought and sold. Would the Princess really defy the law for someone so insignificant? Surely not.

“Yu Chao’en, take a look—is this contract genuine?”

Hearing the Princess’s voice, Wu Xiaoqi’s anxious heart could not help but note how sweet it sounded. Such was the voice of one born to rule, worthy of reverence.

“Yes, Princess! It is genuine! This Wu Xiaoqi is a runaway slave!”

Wu Xiaoqi’s heart turned to ice. Was she really to be taken back now? Her nose stung, and warm tears slid down her face. She couldn’t bear to part with Uncle Fu, with the kitchen, with the warmth and familiarity of the Princess’s household.

She sobbed, head bowed, shoulders hunched, nose running freely. But instead of doom, she heard the most familiar of sounds.

The spark of flint.

“Princess, what are you doing? Don’t burn it, Princess—”

Clang!

Hmm? Wu Xiaoqi sensed something strange. She recognized the sound of a sword being drawn, and then two heavy objects dropping to the floor.

Looking up, she saw the Princess coming to her side, seizing her arm, and with a flash of cold steel, slicing through half her sleeve.

“Have you heard the tale of Guan Yu and Cao Cao, of cutting the robe to sever ties? Today, I cut this sleeve to break this contract. From now on, she belongs to the Princess’s household. Would you dare lay a hand on one of my people?”

Wu Xiaoqi, her tear-streaked, sallow face lifted, saw Young Lord Zhang stammering in terror, repeatedly denying any thought of it. With a snotty smile, Wu Xiaoqi watched as the Princess thrust the blade into the floor before her—this, she knew, was the Princess standing up for her. From that moment, she truly belonged to the Princess’s household.

She drew out the sword, stood, and watched the slowly retreating figure at the door, so dazzling it pierced her heart. Long after that silhouette vanished, she bowed, sword in hand, in deep respect.

Had the Princess just called Young Lord Zhang “Cockroach Lord”? Wu Xiaoqi didn’t understand—wasn’t Zhang and cockroach pronounced the same?

Years passed after that day, years in which many things happened. At the time, Wu Xiaoqi had no idea about the song that slandered the Princess’s name.

But—

When she brought us miracle after miracle—victory, triumph, the founding of a dynasty—when she brought forth a new golden age before our eyes, I finally came to my long rest. In that moment, I became a star in the heavens, gazing down on the one who gave me freedom, watching as she led this era to its glorious peak. Even then, I would cook a pot of her favorite chicken soup among the stars, silently praying for her campaigns, for she was forever the Princess I admired, a being beyond my reach. That silhouette, from that moment on, was etched into my very soul, never to be forgotten, even if my very self should vanish.

From the distant stars, a soul’s gentle whisper drifts down.

(The End of this Chapter)