Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I was my father’s child of his old age, and his only one at that. He had built a massive empire and flourished during these chaotic times; if anyone claimed his hands were completely clean, no one would believe them.

He spent the first half of his life cutting down anyone who stood in his way, whether they were gods or buddhas. It was only when I was born-becoming his one true weakness-that he began to hesitate and look over his shoulder.

At the time, many people advised my father to recruit a live-in son-in-law in the future. They suggested he pass all his skills down to this man so that he could protect me in the rapidly changing future.

My father may have had a thousand faults, but his devotion to my mother was genuine. Having navigated the business world and fought his way through life, he had seen every kind of person imaginable.

He understood all too well that the world wasn’t just filled with devoted men who pined for their late wives like he did; it was also full of treacherous men who would scheme in a thousand ways to turn their wives into “late wives.”

He didn’t dare gamble my life on that one-in-a-million chance.

My father doted on me to a fault, always clinging to the hope that his daughter could live a life free of worry.

But the increasing number of refugees on the streets and the sound of gunfire that erupted sporadically at night acted like a mirror, reflecting his deepest internal fears vividly.

It culminated when my father was out on the street and saw a girl about my age collapse. She was skin and bones, her mouth slightly agape as her clouded eyes slowly closed, never to open again.

She wasn’t me, yet she seemed like a thousand versions of me.

And so, on my seventh birthday, the gift my father gave me was-a gun.

I wasn’t afraid of guns; I had seen plenty of them. The uncles and elders who frequently visited my father’s study, as well as the bodyguards stationed inside and outside our courtyard, all carried guns.

I was just a bit reluctant. In my childhood mind, only those tall, burly men with fierce faces carried such things. I didn’t like it.

My father held me and coaxed me. To look younger, he shaved his beard frequently. But after several days of being cooped up in his room and neglecting his appearance, his stubble had grown out. He rubbed his new beard against my face, prickling me. “Xiao Wu, be good. I’ll have them change the gun to pink for you, alright?”

Only then did I smile, telling Papa that I wanted a small garden where I could plant lots and lots of fruit.

Papa smiled too, agreeing to everything. At that time, I didn’t know that this was the last bit of tenderness he could offer me.

From that day on, my father hired tutors for me. My curriculum shifted from painting, piano, and flower arrangement to finance, marksmanship, and hand-to-hand combat…

My father began taking me to the various negotiations he attended, introducing me to many people.

When someone treated me as a mere ornament at a banquet, asking me to recite a poem, play a tune, or perform a dance to “add to the festivities,” my father flew into a rage.

He told me, “Jiang Wu, you are my daughter, my heir, and the future leader of the Jiang Family. If anyone cannot treat you as an equal, then there is no need for us to cooperate with them.”

The kind and amiable father of my memories slowly disappeared. He began to grow strict, even harsh.

However, I could still adapt, because I knew that Papa loved me.

Until one day, he shoved that gun into my hand. “Your teacher says you’ve been doing well in your marksmanship lessons. Prove it to me. Kill him.”

He was pointing at a man-a traitor from my father’s chamber of commerce.

I had never tried to shoot a living thing, let alone a person. I said in a panic, “Papa, I’ve only ever shot at targets.”

He didn’t give me a chance to explain further. Instead, he grabbed Ah Xia, the maid who had grown up with me, and pressed a gun to her head. His tone brook no argument. “You fire, or I fire.”

During the time I had spent seeing the world with my father, I had become very adept at reading people. I understood that he was serious.

I was terrified by his attitude, unable to understand why he had suddenly become so extreme. I raised the gun with trembling hands, my face blurred by tears.

My father’s voice continued, his gun pressing even closer to Ah Xia’s head. “You only have one chance. If you don’t aim true, then I’ll be the one to fire.”

A shot can be faked, but aiming requires intense focus; it required me to summon the intent to kill.

I really had learned my marksmanship well. The gun barked only once. The bullet pierced the skull, and a flower of blood blossomed.

It was bloody and disgusting. For a seven-year-old child, it was truly difficult to stomach. I let out a scream and then began to retch violently.

My father came over and held me, his voice still fierce. “Remember this: if anyone dares to betray you in the future, do exactly what you did today. Shoot them!”

I cried even louder, almost unable to catch my breath.

My father grabbed my shoulders and warned me sternly, “From today on, stop crying. Do you think those people outside shouting slogans and marching in parades can really achieve equality between men and women? If you want to survive, and survive well, you must be more ruthless, more cold-blooded, and more relentless than any man!”

My father pulled my hand to touch his beard and his newly grown white hair. “Xiao Wu, Papa can’t stay with you for much longer. I can’t change the way of the world, so I can only turn you into the one holding the knife, rather than a dish on the dinner table.”

That was the first time my father had spoken so plainly to me, forcing me to face the cruel reality of the world.

My father’s estate would only carry the name Jiang as long as he was around. Once the day came that I couldn’t hold onto it, then this wealth-along with myself-would be nothing but a piece of fat waiting for others to swallow whole.