The Empress had devised an elegant diversion: if a prince shot down a kite bearing a noblewoman’s name, he could choose her as his consort.
I made a point of running over to remind the Third Prince.
“That huge red butterfly kite is mine.
Don’t mix it up with the others later.”
He grinned and teased me.
“Are you that eager to marry me?”
“Fine.
I’ll think about it.
If I can’t hit anyone else’s, I’ll shoot yours.”
I flushed and spat at him in mock disgust.
“Plenty of men want to marry me.
I’m only afraid you’ll fail to win me and start bawling.”
Pei Qing and I had grown up together, bickering and playing since childhood.
It was the most ordinary kind of banter between us, but I knew he would take my words to heart.
Yet once the contest began, Pei Qing kept aiming at my elder sister’s kite without so much as glancing at mine.
My kite was so conspicuous.
He could not possibly have missed it.
I watched several arrows skim past it.
I grew anxious that someone else might shoot it down.
I had no choice but to let it climb higher and higher, beyond everyone’s reach.
Then, without warning, the string in my hand snapped.
The kite swayed as it fell—and landed on the Crown Prince, who had set his heart on renouncing the world for a Buddhist monastery.
