Chapter 4

At first, the martial academy had no intention of accepting me. The dynasty had established schools for girls under the influence of the Grand Princess, and even produced a handful of female officials, but academies that considered themselves orthodox still found excuse after excuse to turn girls away.

Then the academy director saw the tuition gift my mother offered: a sword black from hilt to tip.

She had spent months hammering it thousands of times, then shaping and polishing it with exquisite care.

Thus I became the martial academy’s first female student.

The school taught riding, archery, and all eighteen traditional weapons, along with basic reading and writing. Outstanding students could advance to the Heaven Class to study strategy and warfare, and might even travel to the capital for the military examination.

On the morning after my second day, I woke, pushed away the covers, and felt an ache stab through every part of me.

I tried to get out of bed, but each limb had a different idea. I fell straight to the floor.

Chunfeng lifted me, tears streaming down my face. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Then eat more.” She pushed a bowl of clear-soup dumplings toward me.

Their skins were thinner even than wonton wrappers, delicate as cicada wings and clinging to the smallest dab of meat. They lay soft in the broth, fragrant enough to make my mouth water.

I picked up my spoon, but my arm refused to obey. It shook like a boat tossed in a storm.

Affection mingled with amusement in her eyes. “Oh, let me feed you.”

“Mother, why did you send me to a martial academy?”

“What line comes after, ‘The river’s spring tide lies level with the sea’?”

“What?” Bewildered, I swallowed a dumpling whole.

She spooned another into my mouth. “I knew long ago you weren’t destined to become a great lady of letters. Eat. You have several more painful days ahead.”

Still limping, I was marched back to the martial academy.

The soreness lasted for more than a month. When I finally managed to lift one of Chunfeng’s smithing hammers, I discovered with delight that my body somehow felt lighter even though I had grown much stronger.

I showed off the boxing form I had just learned. Chunfeng watched with pride.

I asked why she was so determined to make me study martial arts. Did she want to become the mother of the top military scholar?

Something seemed to come back to her. She stared at the sky for a long while before answering.

“Virtue, deportment, beauty, needlework, music, chess, calligraphy, painting—all those things are admirable. But with what I have now, I cannot let you stay safely at home like Lady Beigong Ying.”

“Even an embroiderer who earns a fortune may freeze when disaster strikes. Her legs go stiff, her vision blurs, and she cannot even run.”

“No matter how well a woman masters those accomplishments, more often than not they make her an ornament to someone else. She still has to depend on them.”

“Martial arts are different. I only want you to be stronger, so that whether it concerns love or hatred, life or death, you can decide for yourself.”

“You can sit the military examination, serve some young lady as a fighting maid, or become a blacksmith. Any of those will put food in your mouth. More importantly, when it matters, you’ll be able to win a fight or run fast enough to escape.”

“A strong body gives you more choices.”

I had always thought myself shrewd and my stepmother foolishly openhearted. I had never imagined she had turned my future over in her mind so many times.

The martial academy was a good place. I would grow even stronger.

If another scholar ever cheated her, I would back her up with my fists.

After all, clearheaded as she could be, Chunfeng never learned her lesson where men were concerned. A few gentle words from a handsome face, and she would fling her whole heart—and everything else she had—at him.

Business at the smithy was roaring. Miss Yang and Suxian both advised her to commission a proper signboard.

She asked a scholar from the academy across the street to write one: Chunfeng Ironworks.

Watching Chunfeng brew fresh tea for him and heap praise upon him while fussing at his side, I felt a quiet dread.

At dinner, I polished off two enormous bowls of rice but still could not settle my nerves. I kept staring at her until she grew uncomfortable and pretended she was going to hit me.

I thrust my head closer and studied her face even more intently.

“Mother, why do you like men so much?”

“Wrong. I only like handsome men.”

“Then the next time you meet one, tell me first. I’ll investigate him. Whatever you do, don’t pick up another scholar and bring him home without warning.”

“All right! You have my word!” she promised readily.

Then she turned around and brought home a man covered in blood.