Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Before entering the palace, my father and I hadn’t seen each other for twenty-five years.

Uh, I’m twenty-five this year.

A quick calculation makes it obvious…

I didn’t know my old man at all!

It went like this: at the end of the previous dynasty, the incompetent ruler couldn’t hold the country, rebellions broke out everywhere, my dad sold our old sow for a bag of grain and a knife, and took a bunch of equally ragged brothers out begging… I mean, rebelling, leaving behind my pregnant mother and a little spotted pig to fend for themselves. Later, when I was born, that pig was butchered for meat soup.

Sadly, a widow with a child couldn’t survive easily in those chaotic times. My mother’s health was poor after giving birth, and she passed away when I was five. So, I inherited my father’s glorious tradition and went out begging.

In the village, everyone was poor, and you couldn’t beg a decent mouthful. I walked barefoot to town, and the wet nurse of the assistant magistrate’s household took pity on me, taking me in as a kitchen girl.

But I was capable! Through my own efforts, I stood out among the scrawny girls and was chosen by the magistrate’s daughter as a rough-work maid. From then on, I had full meals and three sets of new clothes a year-village folks could struggle a lifetime and not have as good a life as mine!

When the young lady came of marriageable age, it was agreed she’d take me along when she married, to be her housekeeper.

I fully thought my future husband would be some unknown steward of some unknown young master.

Just then, a relative came seeking refuge at the magistrate’s.

It was a ragged, lame teenage boy, his cheeks so gaunt he looked like a walking skeleton.

The magistrate sent him off to a countryside estate, gave him two taels of silver and a bag of grain, and never bothered again.

Unexpectedly, months later the youth came to give thanks. After some rest, the poor relative had flesh on his face and bright eyes. Even in rough hemp clothes and with a limp, when standing still he was elegant and otherworldly, as if a different species from us dusty folks.

Digression: the phrase “elegant and otherworldly” is something the Grand Tutor taught me recently. Back then, I just thought the poor relative was really skinny, tall, and good-looking.

The young lady, just awakening to love, fell for this distant cousin of some degree, insisting on marrying him, saying she’d be willing even to be a farmer’s wife with him.

The magistrate, upon hearing the news when morning mist just cleared, by noon when the sun was high, stuffed me into an ox cart and sent me to the estate to marry that “young cousin.”

On the wedding day, I was still wearing the apron I used when washing the young lady’s clothes, and the young cousin had just come back from the fields, his legs covered in yellow wet mud.

The bridal chamber was a dilapidated thatched hut that leaked in rain and wind, and dinner was the half a steamed bun he’d left from breakfast.

No candles, no family or friends, in the chilly wilderness just a little hut, with two people inside awkwardly not knowing where to put their hands and feet.

Eventually I took the initiative, asking him if he wanted to wash his feet.

I’d seen village women all boil water to wash their men’s feet.

But the fair, handsome young cousin misunderstood; he went and heated water, brought it over for me to wash my feet.

He even turned his back, telling me not to be shy, he wouldn’t look.

The hut had only one bed of straw, so we slept apart on the left and right, he gave me the blanket, and slept in his clothes.

The next morning when I woke, I had rolled into his arms, my leg hooked over his waist, my hand gripping his ear, my shoulder pressing on his hair.

We stared at each other for a long time, my face burning hot, and he blushed from neck to ear tips.

That year, we were both just seventeen.

Later…

Later we reclaimed some wasteland, planted fruits and vegetables, raised pigs, cattle, chickens, and ducks, gave birth to Songqing and Songya, and sought a small measure of peace in the chaotic world.

Until one day, a large, splendid carriage rolled down the country dirt road and stopped at our door.

Men in lofty crowns and women in richly embroidered dresses knelt before me, saying they came to escort the legitimate princess back to the palace.

I was so scared I dropped the pigweed I’d just cut.

Turns out that begging father had seized the empire and become emperor, and was bringing me to enjoy the good life.

My first reaction was: “You’ve got the wrong person, right?”

Now, months later, as I clearly saw the face of the man seated on the dragon throne, I was utterly sure they hadn’t made a mistake; I must be his daughter.

Speaking of which, a princess resembling the emperor has its pros and cons. The upside: anyone seeing us would know we’re biological father and daughter.

The downside: my dad is ugly!

If everyone thinks I look like him, does that mean I’m ugly too?

Gong Jiqing always said my features are plain individually, but together they’re especially beautiful.

I just knew, my husband was lying to me!