by Fynn Chen
Yexuan had no idea when she had fallen asleep but when she had awoken, the imperial physician was by her side, taking her pulse without her permission. Just as she was about to protest, her eyes caught the other presence in the room, and she held her protest in. It was her father, the Emperor himself. Emperor Yinzhun was the ninth Emperor of the Pei Dynasty, the only male heir of the former Emperor who had died at a young age. His position had been uncontested, and he had ascended the throne when he was only thirteen. Unlike his father Emperor before him, Emperor Yinzhun had a large imperial harem and in turn, a large brood of princes and princesses. Amongst his royal children, Yexuan was only the seventh princess but was his most beloved child owing to the love her father Emperor had for her late mother.
“Father,” Yexuan greeted.
“Yexuan, do not bother with ceremonial greetings. Lie down while the physician takes your pulse,” the Emperor said.
Yexuan could only nod in response as she wondered what would have warranted her a sudden visit from not only the physician but her father as well.
“How is she?” The Emperor asked impatiently.
The physician stroked a wisp of his long beard and with a troubled look, said, “the princess is still frail. It would be advisable that she avoids long journeys.”
The Emperor nodded his head slowly and ponderously. “Very well then. I will have to send the Great Khan the unfortunate news that I am unable to depart from the palace out of concern for Princess Yexuan’s condition. I am still hoping for the princesses of our two lands to meet since they are of similar age. Hopefully, the Great Khan would understand a parent’s love for his child.”
Yexuan had her lips pursed as she tried to process her father Emperor’s words and made guesses of her own.
“That would be the wisest. I believe the Great Khan would most certainly understand,” the physician replied.
The Emperor had stayed behind even after the physician was gone. “Why aren’t you recovering yet?” The Emperor asked, his voice laced with fatherly concern which made Yexuan feel guilty.
The princess felt shameful that her father was showering her so much concern and that she had become the target of jealousy simply because her late mother had been the Emperor’s favourite royal concubine. If only her mother had not been the favourite, then she might have been spared of her life. If only she was not the Emperor’s favourite child too, then Yexuan might have wanted to live.
Shrugging her shoulders lightly, Yexuan answered, “I don’t know, father. Maybe it is just time for me to meet mother soon.”
Anger flashed in the Emperor’s eyes as he took a stride forward. “Don’t you dare spout such nonsense again.”
Yexuan looked away embarrassedly.
Then bending himself down to stroke his sickly daughter’s limp hair, the Emperor explained. “I had wanted to bring you with me to see the Great Khan of Bo’er during the renewal of our peace treaty. He has a young daughter too, I thought that would have liven up your spirits. His daughter had lost her mother at a very young age as well, even witnessed her death too.”
Something gripped Yexuan’s heart. A very distinct memory of her mother formed in her mind and she had to will it away.
“Don’t… father… I don’t want to meet any wildling princess from the steppes, just let me stay in my quarters and read my books.”
Yexuan bit back the urge to cry.
With a heavy sigh, the Emperor stood himself erect and cleared his throat.
“Whatever it is, stop your thoughts about wanting to meet your mother and get well quickly. You are your mother’s heart throb, her greatest possession, and likewise you are mine too. We will talk about the wildling princess at a later time, she is… instrumental to our connections with the Bo’ers.”
Political games. Those words flashed through Yexuan’s mind. Yexuan, despite her young age, had learnt many things through strategy books and this was one of them. Yexuan knew that the Emperor may have been a doting father on her, but he could be an unscrupulous ruler too. That was the main reason for their country’s continued prosperity. Closing her eyes, Yexuan wanted to shut off her mind to these thoughts, she wanted no part of all these and prayed for the wildling princess to not be a part of all these as well.
“I don’t want to meet any wildling princess,” Yexuan repeated with adamance.
“It is not your choice whether you want the company of the Great Khan’s princess or not, I will decide on that,” the Emperor said with a note of finality and with a lingering look at her daughter, he left the princess’s quarters.
Yexuan wanted to cry and she knew it was a stupid reason to do so. She hated everything about this palace she was in. She did not ask to be a princess. She merely wanted a simple life with her mother, not the company of some foreign princess who had lost her mother too.
2 The Wild and the Tamed
Wanwan had woken up from a disturbed sleep, a film of cold sweat covering her skin.
She felt a hand resting on her chest lightly as a gentle voice asked, “Wanwan? Are you having nightmares again?”
It was only Yanyan.
“Y-Yea…” Wanwan admitted ashamedly.
The room was slowly illuminated by the candlelight which Yanyan had put on. The flames of the candle flickered as a gust of wind blew through the yurt opening and casted dancing shadows about them. Wanwan shivered slightly but not solely because of the chill from the wind.
Yanyan, having noticed the shaken look on her younger sister, pulled Wanwan into her arms and began rocking her.
“I am not a baby,” Wanwan complained as she tried to get away, but her sister had caged her in.
Despite Wanwan’s love to boast of her strength, Yanyan lived up to her reputation as a Bo’er princess as well and was strong enough to resist her younger sister’s attempts at breaking free.
“Come on, stop acting tough and be a good baby sister,” Yanyan said teasingly and Wanwan stopped resisting.
Instead, the young princess had snuggled deeper into her sister’s embrace. “Yanyan, I miss mother.”
“Oh I miss her too,” Yanyan concurred in a voice laced with yearning.
“Of course you do, you’ve known mother for a longer time than I have,” Wanwan said with such incredible perceptiveness that it had made the elder princess slightly at a loss for words.
They were bathed in silence with just the candlelight accompanying them for a long moment before Yanyan spoke again.
“Wanwan, I have a question for you, and you must answer me honestly.”
Nodding her head innocently like the young child she supposedly was, Wanwan hummed a response.
“Do you really love hunting? Or do you just want to kill things?” Yanyan’s question was pointed, clearly referring to the day’s event; of the hunting debate that erupted amongst the siblings.
When the young princess had given no reply, Yanyan was beginning to wonder if she had asked her young sister a question that was too difficult for her to answer.
Alas, Wanwan was as intelligent as she had often proved herself to be as she gave her reply. “I want to kill things that prey on the weak.”
Once again, the elder princess was astonished by her sister’s answer but did not let it show. The condor and other predatory birds were infamously known to hunt weaker animals like rabbits on this grassland however that was the way of nature and Yanyan was struggling to comprehend her sister’s views.
“Weak animals like the rabbits?” Yanyan clarified.
“Like the rabbits,” Wanwan confirmed.
Sighing, Yanyan engulfed her sister in another hug. “Wanwan, sometimes it is necessary that animals do what they do. They need to live but that does not mean that they are bad.”
“Then are they good?” Wanwan asked.
Yanyan tilted her head a little, unsure of how she should best answer the question. After a long moment, Yanyan finally came up with an answer, “no… animals just… live on instincts. They are not exactly good
nor bad.”
“Then are humans animals too?” Wanwan asked again.
Yanyan froze because she knew where this conversation would lead to. It had to do with Wanwan’s dark dreams and the loss of their mother. Learning that there was no point in honeying any words when it came to Wanwan, Yanyan decided to speak more candidly with this child who was mature beyond her years.
“Humans can be worse than animals sometimes, Wanwan. We all have a choice in choosing who and what to become and unfortunately, some people just chose to become…”
“Worse than animals,” Wanwan said.
Nodding her head, Yanyan echoed, “worse than animals.” Later, the elder princess added, “which is why… Wanwan, you would best learn to not become like those people. Instead, you should model after better, righteous people.”
“Like father?”
Yanyan smiled sweetly and nodded. “Yes, like our father, our Great Khan.”
Wanwan pulled away from her sister’s hug a little and said in a brighter tone, “like you, and all of our brothers too!”
Yanyan guffawed. “Well… I know for certain that I am a good person, but I cannot vouch for all of our brothers,” Yanyan joked.
“Like Zhente? That day when Zhente made stew of one of your sheep?” Wanwan asked.
Yanyan laughed but agreed.
Then in a more cunning tone, Wanwan added, “and that day when Zhenyuan teased you and Miying.”
This time round Yanyan’s eyes went wide as she stared at her sister, putting an arm’s length distance between themselves. The elder princess was trying to fathom what her younger sister had meant.
“Wanwan… what are you trying to say…?”
Hu’re’te Miying was the only daughter of one of Bo’er’s best general, General Hu’re’te Kang. General Kang and their father Khan were bosom friends, and his daughter was someone whom Yanyan had grown up with and treated dearly. Yanyan was nervous because beyond Miying’s official titles, they had acknowledged each other as soul mates and love interests. It was a taboo if they had made their love known to others but as long as they kept quiet, there could be a possibility that Miying and her could grow old together discreetly. Surely, across these vast steppes, they would be able to find a place for themselves; a place where they would be accepted and their love for each other could be tolerated.
The little princess then put on an innocent look and shrugged. “Nothing. Just saying that brother Zhenyuan likes to tease Miying and yourself.”
Narrowing her eyes, Yanyan pinched her younger sister’s arm, hoping that her younger sister could understand the severe consequence of such a knowledge. All her elder-sister-gentleness had melted away. “Don’t you dare be cheeky with me, Bo’er’ji’ji’te Zhenwan.”
Wanwan chuckled naughtily. “Don’t worry, sister, only I know about how serious your relationship is with Miying.”
Yanyan’s heart skipped a beat. Exhaling, Yanyan resigned to the fact that it was not possible for people to not have noticed. Perhaps, Yanyan needs to consider concealing her feelings better. If her ten-year-old sister was able to decipher her feelings for Miying, surely other veterans of romantic relationship would have seen through her as well.
“Yanyan, I really did not divulge about your relationship with Miying to the others. I kept it all to myself,” Wanwan reassured with a light tug of her sister’s sleeves.
“Then you better make sure you will be the only person to know ever. Sleep! Don’t make me tie you to a tree and rock you from there,” Yanyan threatened.
Wanwan must have sensed the severity of her sister’s tone and immediately mellowed. “Yanyan don’t be angry with me. I swear on my life to not tell anyone.”
Yanyan felt as though a knot had eased up in her heart because she could place her trust in Wanwan, her favourite and closest sibling. Nodding to the younger princess, Yanyan then cuddled her sister a while longer. Once Wanwan was asleep, Yanyan peered at her sister’s sleeping face with gentle eyes and stroked her hair as thoughts about Wanwan’s profound intellect and courage worried her.
**
The royal children of the Great Khan had woken up and was fresh by twilight performing an array of activities. The younger princes and princess Wanwan had busied themselves with practicing martial arts whilst the Great Khan had gathered the older siblings for a political meeting in the throne room. The Great General Hu’re’te Kang as well as his only child, child scholar Miying, were present in the throne room as well.
Despite being the same age as Yanyan, Miying looked far more mature because of her tall stature and her adult-like composure. Her slender eyes reflected knowledge acquired over many years of intensive studying. The unembellished robes and plain furs she adorned spoke of her stern character. Ordinary children of the Bo’ers and the steppes alike learned to steer clear away from Miying, all except one who could never keep away from her, Yanyan.
The meeting was centred heavily around the Emperor of Pei’s request for the discussion of the renewal of their peace treaty to be held in the palace in the capital of Pei instead of on neutral grounds per previous customs. This peace treaty was a triennial agreement between the greater steppes and the Pei Dynasty. As the Great Khan of Bo’er and representative of the steppes, Khun’in Khan was expected to represent most of the tribes on the steppes and negotiate in the interest of the tribesmen in mind.
“This is absurd! We have traditionally been discussing our peace accords along the two country’s borders and never in anyone else’s territory,” General Hu’re’te pointed out.
Princess Yanyan felt troubled by this arrangement as well and voiced out her opinions freely, along with several of the elder princes.
Miying had maintained her silence until the Great Khan sought her opinion. Yanyan could not help but steal a glance at Miying’s calm and collected self.
“The Emperor of Pei might ask for more if we acquiesce to this request once. That has always been the Pei Emperors’ way. Unfortunately, I doubt we can turn down this request of his. It is also not unknown that the Emperor has been playing host to many other smaller countries and they have all given in. If we were to reject him, this might delay the peace treaty between us and the Peis. The people of Jing to the West of them might find this chance to ally with the Peis and trample on our homelands as they did before.”
Prince Zhente snorted. “Then we would crush both countries with our own power.”
The Great Khan regarded his son with critical eyes and the eldest prince immediately apologised for his mindless talk. Both countries of Pei and Jing had military power far greater than the Bo’ers and since the steppes were made up of scattered tribes, it was even harder for them to coordinate their military strength. Their soldiers may be fierce, but they would be too drastically outnumbered. As the eldest child and the one who accompanied the Khan most frequently into battles, Prince Zhente should have known their circumstances better than that.
“Father, what bothers me is that they had specifically asked for both our sisters to accompany you while you are there,” Prince Zhente tried to salvage himself from embarrassment.
The Khan’s eyes remained impassion but his children could tell that their father shared their concerns as well. Both the princesses were the Khan’s favourite children and that was a huge stake. Moreover, such a request was disguised as a friendly one and so they could not turn down such a proposal easily.
**
“Princess Wanwan! Princess Wanwan! Princess Wanwan!”
The crowd cheered on as the two children who were heavily clad in boiled leather armour sparred against each other. Wanwan, having already trashed three other opponents before, should have been exhausted yet that was not the case, and the princess only became more energised.
Her poor opponent, despite being older and larger than Wanwan, had been wrestled off the ground and knocked away mercilessly by the princess.
A cacophony of joyful cries went up as the princess kept up with her winning streak. Wanwan
strode over to her opponent and stuck out her hand in chivalry. However, her opponent had refused to meet her eye.
“Come on Jinglie, don’t be a sore loser,” Wanwan drawled and did not withdraw her hand.
Hao’qi’te Jinglie was the young prince of another allied tribe from the steppes and was raised as a ward among Khun’in Khan’s own children. His father, Im’Run Khan was Khun’in Khan’s greatest ally and they had known each other when they were boys during their regular tribal exchanges of gifts and strategies. Groaning, the young prince finally grasped onto the princess’s hand which was much tinier than his to heft himself up.
“You always defeat me so heartlessly,” Jinglie complained as he dusted himself off.
Wanwan was about to reply something witty when a messenger had come for them and summoned the two young royals to convene with the Great Khan in the throne room.
“Me as well?” Jinglie asked in a slightly disgruntled voice as he shrugged off his boiled leather armour.
“Yes, Prince Jinglie as well,” the messenger confirmed.
The prince made a face that looked as if he had tasted something sour, but his expression changed when Wanwan had held him by the arm and led him along.
“Let’s go, my father Khan has summoned for us so suddenly, it must be something exciting. We should not keep him waiting.”
The young princess could not see it, but her young friend of a prince was blushing obscenely as her hold remained fastened around his sinewy arm as they passed several yurts to reach the one the Khan was in.
Once they were in the yurt, they were met with grave expressions from the party of people. It made Wanwan slightly nervous as they made their way through to stand before her father Khan.
