The Rebirth of the Malicious Empress of Military Lineage novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Decree

Wei charms the household and sets the wedding for her eighteenth year; she sees Wanrou's maid carry a wax block out of her father's study the night before he marches.

Wei Chengjue did not take his eyes off her as he crossed the courtyard.

He stepped over a fallen red lacquer lid without looking at it.

"Third Prince," said Shuyao's grandmother, hurrying forward with her cane. "Please forgive the child. She had a fever in the night."

"I had no fever," said Shuyao.

Her grandmother gave her a look that could have split a log.

Wei laughed, low and kind.

"Let her speak, Madam. I like a girl who says what she means."

He had said exactly the same words in the first life, in exactly the same tone.

Shuyao had melted.

She stood in the green riding robe with her hands loose at her sides and let him look.

In the hall he took the guest seat, and Wanrou poured his tea with both hands.

Wanrou's cheeks were pink.

"Cousin Wanrou has such gentle hands," Wei said.

"Your Highness is too kind," Wanrou murmured, and glanced at Shuyao from under her lashes.

It was the glance of a girl who has already decided what she will take.

Shuyao almost admired it.

"Miss Tang." Wei set his cup down.

"I was told you are modest and obedient. Today you throw my gift in a pond."

"Tell me what I have done."

"Nothing yet," Shuyao said.

Her grandmother choked.

"I will not marry anyone at fourteen," Shuyao went on.

"I will not marry a prince at all. I want it said in front of my family."

"Then no one can say they did not hear."

"Shuyao!"

"The decree was written by the Emperor, child," said her grandmother. "It is not yours to refuse."

"Then I refuse to be happy about it."

Wei leaned back and studied her.

There was a new look in his eyes, a small bright one.

"The Emperor's wishes cannot be undone by a moment of temper," he said.

"But I am not a cruel man. We will wait."

"The wedding will be held in the year of your eighteenth birthday."

"Until then, you may be as unhappy with me as you like."

He smiled at her.

"I find I am looking forward to it."

Shuyao felt the old warmth start in her stomach, the old stupid pull toward that voice.

Then she remembered the cup, and the warmth turned to frost.

She bowed, exactly as deep as a daughter-in-law-to-be was owed and not a hair deeper.

Her grandmother was white to the lips.

Wei left within the hour, with his steward and his unopened gifts.

Wanrou walked him to the gate, though no one had asked her to.

Shuyao watched them from the upper window.

Wei bent his head to hear something Wanrou said, and then the pearl comb flashed once as she nodded.

In the first life, Shuyao had thought they met for the first time at her wedding.

She went down to the study.

Her father was bent over a map of the northern road.

One hand held his beard, and the other pinned a corner flat with a bronze weight.

Tang Hongyi was forty-four, broad as a door, and in the first life she had last seen him through the bars of a cart.

She stood in the doorway until she was sure her voice would work.

"Father."

"I heard." He did not look up. "You have embarrassed your grandmother, offended a prince, and made your mother's sister's girl cry. All before breakfast."

"Wanrou was crying?"

"She is always crying." He rolled up the map. "What is it, Shuyao?"

"The grain convoy."

That made him look at her.

"What do you know of the grain convoy?"

"You're taking the Black Ravine road. It's the shortest."

"It is the safest. It's the only road wide enough for the carts."

"Father, please. Please change the route."

"Why?"

She had a dozen answers prepared, and every one of them sounded like the babble of a child who had read too many stories.

"I had a dream," she said.

He sighed through his nose.

"Go to bed, little rabbit. Your brother will stay with you tomorrow while I'm gone, and you may argue with him about the moon."

He kissed the top of her head and sent her away.

She walked back through the garden slowly, trying not to hit something.

The sky had gone the color of wet slate.

On the path by the study's side door she stopped.

Someone was ahead of her, moving quickly, with a cloth bundle held to her chest.

It was Wanrou's maid.

The girl slipped through the moon gate without a sound and did not see Shuyao standing behind a plum tree.

Her sleeve caught on a branch.

A square block of pale wax slid out of the cloth, and the maid snatched it up and ran.

In the moonlight, for the space of one breath, Shuyao saw a shape pressed deep into the wax.

A small bronze tiger, curled on its side, with its mouth open.

She knew that tiger better than her own face.

She had cast it once herself.

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