Whispers of the Peony

As Xinxin struck her sword repeatedly against the crude, wooden dummy hanging from a low branch of an ancient tree, breaths labored from the exertion, her mind recalled recent events.

“You are to wed Lord Zhao’s son in two moons,” her father, Lord Song, had declared earlier that day. They were sitting across from each other in his private study, with a large oakwood desk serving as a barrier between them. “This order came from the king himself. Regrettably, he had no choice but to unite our houses. It is out of my hands.”

With exasperation, he slid the commanding document across the polished surface of his desk, to which she leaned forward and reluctantly received with delicate hands.

Keeping her fingers and wrists steady despite the foreboding trepidation brewing beneath her calm veneer, she immediately began to read:

“I hereby command your full attention to my decree. As of this date, you are to cease your long-standing feud with House Zhao. Your odious infighting over the allocation of lands has led to unnecessary issues over the years, and our council has exhausted our mediation attempts. By mid-spring, you shall offer your daughter’s hand in marriage to Lord Hirata of House Zhao as a token of your truce. Decreed on this date, in the third month of the lunar year, by the order of King Zhao Tuo and enforced by Governor Shang.”

The Governor’s signature commanded the bottom of the scroll in neat, even brushstrokes, made more prominent by the wax seal that bore the crest of the king. Every character, every smudge of the ink, adorned the paper with a tapestry of swirls and curves. Delicate, like artwork from a silk painting. Yet, the message that it conveyed contrasted greatly with the beauty of its calligraphy.

“Has my…betrothed been notified?” she asked with a tremor in her voice as she reread the edict to ensure that she hasn’t misunderstood its message.

A sigh of resignation and a nod from Lord Song answered for her.

“Notifications have been sent this morning, informing him of this change in plans,” he added gravely.

For a moment, she couldn’t speak. A heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach.

“Father, I would like to be excused,” she said as she abruptly stood from her chair, causing the legs to screech against the hardwood floor. With trembling hands, she placed the scroll back onto the lacquered surface of the desk. “I need some time to process this news.”

A tinge of hurt became lodged in her throat as she turned and made her way towards the sliding lattice door behind her.

“Where are you heading off to?” Lord Song’s commanding voice pierced through the room, stopping her in her tracks. “The courtyard?”

She turned back to look at him, her eyes glistening with a mixture of disappointment and grief, as she said, “How did you expect me to feel? When I woke up this morning, I was a few months away from marrying Lord Tang. You and Mother have greatly looked forward to that day for years. But then you did nothing when the Governor sold me off to House Zhao like chattel. Please allow me some time to take this all in, father.”

“Very well,” Lord Song said in a reserved, but serious voice. “Do not venture far from the manor without a chaperone. These lands are perilous, and you need to be mindful of your surroundings. Stay close to the manor and do not stay out for too long. Be back before the storm hits.”

She bowed her head deep in deference, as she was raised to do when addressing her father, then left the study and headed off to fetch her sword and her makeshift dummy. She knew a safe place where she can go without the need of an overbearing chaperone.

Enclosed by cherry blossoms, pines, cedars, and cypresses, with wild foliage that stretched across the underbrush of the forest floor like exotic rugs, she vented her dismay with fierce indignation, beating and striking the dummy with as much ferocity as she could muster, sending little flecks of wood flying into the air. In the quiet seclusion of this dense forest, which stretched outside the bounds of her family's manor, she unleashed her frustrations with wild abandon.

The blade of her sword, curved at a delicate angle at the tip, sliced through the dummy’s neck, sending its body flying a few yards away and leaving its head dangling from the branch from which it hung.

What could have possessed the Governor to believe that a union between her and the man responsible for her brother’s death would resolve the ill blood between their families? Accidental or not, House Zhao has never taken full accountability! She seethed at the ludicrous outcome.

She kicked the dummy's severed torso in a fit of rage. Yellow hay billowed in the breeze as they spilled out of the hemp fabric that made up its skin. Flecks of wood chips and hay scattered the forest floor, mixing brown and yellow with various shades of green and earthly colors of the underbrush.

Overwhelmed by raw emotions, she sunk down onto a large, protruding root of a pink cherry blossom tree. Bracing herself against its thick trunk, she drew deep breaths through her nose, counting the rapid cadence of her heartbeat. A gust of wind caught her warm and flushed face as she sat there, sending locks of long black hair flying in the breeze. For an overcast, early spring afternoon, the air was brisk and cold. Not quite shedding the lingering chills of winter. But she welcomed the breeze that embraced her.

As she allowed the crisp air to cool her skin, she thought about Lord Tang, an astute young man from a wealthy family of imperial councilors. Her betrothed. A perfect match mandated by Heaven, their union would have propelled her family to the king’s inner circle of advisors, earning her favor among her ancestors. But now, she cannot help but lament over what she has lost. Four years of preparations, correspondence, and goodwill - all gone on a whim. On one abrupt decision.

For a while, she basked in the symphonies of nature and allowed the stillness of the forest to lull her back into a calmer disposition. By the time the fury in her veins subsided and her breaths steadied, leaving her feeling no less agitated than when she first arrived, the sky has grown darker with threats of rain. Gathering her lithe sword, which felt light in its sheath, she proceeded to make her way out of the forest sanctuary.

At the edge of the forest, the air felt colder and windier, practically sweeping her off her feet. From there, it would take her half an hour to reach Song Manor, an ornate structure that stood like an oasis against the towering, snow-capped mountains, its tiled roof glinting gold despite the overcast sky. From her vantage point, she could make out two stone dragons guarding the gate’s entrance. Their bodies stood tall and imposing up close but appeared miniscule in the distance.

Her robes rippled in the wind as she walked along the rugged paths back to the manor, struggling against the current. After a largely uneventful journey, when the edge of the forest was far behind her, something caught her eyes and made her stop.

A little distance away, she could see a group of men approaching the piles of stones that marked the boundary between her family’s land and House Zhao’s. The terrains around them were hilly and uneven, but they were easy to detect, for they stood at the top of the mound on a hill that fell within her eyesight from where she stood. Just far enough from the manor to remain undetected by Lord Song’s sentries from the south. With them, they had brought a cart and a pulley.

What are they doing over there? She wondered, as she watched them maneuver the large boulders onto the cart with the aid of the pulley. Why are they removing the land markers?

She cursed under her breath. Something must be going on. The circumstances were too out of the ordinary for her to simply ignore. She stopped for a moment to ponder the best course of action. On one hand, she knew that she should head home and report what she saw to her father. In fact, it would be a wise decision. Something that Lord Song would have expected from her, for he would promptly assemble a group of armed guards to the site and deal with the entourage of interlopers himself, negotiating their departure.

On the other hand, she was fully aware that Lord Song would be sorely displeased if he were to find out that she has left the manor against his wishes. Knowing her father, she was certain that he would aggressively hound her upon her return. Perhaps, she thought to herself, she could soften the blow by taking action and speak with these men herself. If she manages to succeed in negotiating their departure without the need to draw swords, then perhaps he might be pleased with her initiatives and spare her the grief of discipline upon her return.

The tug of her heart pulled her towards action. Towards the need to act, despite her head demanding her to return to Song Manor immediately. The unequal yoking of her thoughts spurred a wave of anxiety to erupt through the quickening heartbeats in her chest.

She assessed the group as she pondered the best course of action. She counted four figures dressed in armor, and one figure who stood to the side, draped in a nobleman’s robe. The possibility of them being fully armed was not lost on her. There would be no need to draw swords, she reassured herself after much contemplation. Just a little conversation was all she needed.

With a deep breath, she quickened her pace towards the group, emboldened by her attempt at projecting confidence, until she caught up to the border between their lands. She strode right up to the man in the blue silk robe and stopped just a few paces in front of him. Their eyes met and registered recognition. Lord Hirata. The man she is to wed, much to her utter reluctance.

They have seen each other at Governor Shang’s home before, when her parents petitioned his council for punitive actions against House Zhao for inciting the brawl that resulted in her brother’s death. Their petition failed when the council ruled the outcome accidental, much to the injustice of House Song.

She choked down her disgruntlement. Old age must have caught up to Governor Shang. All things considered; they must leave the border at once. They were a few yards away from overstepping their bounds into her family’s land.

“Why are you removing these stones?” She asked, keeping her voice firm despite the nerves that assailed her. Despite her best efforts at keeping her tone measured, she could hear the subtle crack in her own voice that betrayed the self-assuredness that she had hoped to project. “You have no right to interfere with these land markers. What is the meaning of this?”

The young man smirked, his lips coiling into a condescending grin. His long, thin brows curled like a snake as his dark brown eyes narrowed in on her thin, petite frame. From the mischievous expressions on his sneering face, he seemed delighted at the opportunity to provoke. And so, he fully took advantage of it.

“Haven’t you heard?” He responded, his tone laced with rude mockery and jest. “Our governor has ordered us to unite under one banner. And these stones? They are no longer necessary, now that we are forced to share our bloodlines with one another. Trust me, little lady. We do not like this any more than you do. Now stay out of our way and leave us to our task.”

He enunciated those last words with such disdain that Xinxin’s cheeks boiled red at the insulting tone. Heat emanated from the base of her neck and traveled all the way up to her ears, but she swallowed down her pride for the sake of prudence. The smirk never once left his face. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he turned away from her to return to his task at hand: Supervising the removal of the boundary stones. The four men, who have been watching the exchange with curiosity, turned their attention back to their cart and pulley.

“No wedding has taken place yet,” she declared. Her face glowed hot but she willed herself to keep the agitation in her voice subdued. She did not want him to know that his blatant disrespect and condescension had dug their way underneath her delicate skin. “Until Governor Shang properly declares our borders null and void, you need to move these stones back where you found them and return to your land. That is not a request.”

She hoped there was enough fortitude in her voice to let him know that she was not craven to his jeers. That she meant every word despite the nerves that dripped from her tongue.

Hirata stopped for a moment and shook his head in half amusement and half irritation. For a moment, he recalled hearing unsavory gossips from his own family about Lord Song’s daughter: that she was naïve, dull of mind, and inept. And yet here she stood, trying to assert her authority despite the subtle tremor in her voice and the awkwardness in her demeanor. The irony brough a chuckle out of him. He appeared to be enjoying this confrontation more than he cared to admit.

Changing course, he decided to dismiss the guards, who managed to load more boulders onto the cart, and implored them to allow him some privacy. He has some personal matters to settle with the naïve Song girl, he told them. The men quickly looked at each other with a questioning look on their faces, curious as to why they were abruptly dismissed, but obediently took their leave of the boundary stones as they were told.

After they left with the cart and pulley in tow, he returned his attention back to her. He marched right up to her face, occupying what’s left of her personal space. From this proximity, he could hear her breath hitch. Not too audible, but subtle enough for him to detect. She was clearly uncomfortable, he discovered.

His dark brown eyes scanned her face, taking in her soft features. Her face was thin but filled out by high cheek bones. Her eyelashes were long and thick, which complimented her soft eyes that kissed in the corners. If he looked closer, he could see a speck of hazel in a sea of brown, where he detected a glint of unease. If he wasn’t already clouded with contempt towards her family, he wondered if he would find her attractive at this moment. Beautiful, even. His lips curled up into a serpentine smile, revealing his pearly white teeth.

“What are you going to do if we refused to do as you say?” He crooned, tilting his head slightly as he looked directly into her eyes, challenging her. His penetrating gaze trailed down her body until they landed on the sword by her hip. He quickly assessed the little weapon for a few seconds before returning his attention back to her. “That little sword of yours won’t be able to hold my men off in a fight. Do you even know how to use it, or is it just for show?”

Xinxin’s eyes narrowed as she glared at this cocksure young man. Her grip tightened around the hilt of her sword.

“Sir, I beseech you to politely turn around and leave these stones,” she asserted, trying to remain levelheaded despite her growing ire, “before we have to find out.”

Upon hearing her threat, laughter erupted from his lungs in that mocking, disrespectful, and scathing manner. Her expression changed into that of vexation. Her skin suddenly felt hot and flushed. If she felt merely offended and irritated before, she has lost her attempt at stoicism by this point as anger threatened to boil over.

“Why should I obey you?” he countered once his laughter died down. By then, his tone turned defiant and dripping with scorn. “You are the spare child of a lesser lord. I’ll wager that your parents wished for a second son but had you instead. A daughter who is weak, naïve, and useless. I have no doubt that they prefer your little brother over you, now that their precious heir is dead. Never once have I seen you on patrol and you dare have the nerves to command me. Go home and embroider, or do whatever it is that those of your ilk do to occupy your wasted space.”

A dam erupted inside her. Hearing these words, laced with so much venom and disdain, she grimaced and grasped her sword tightly until her knuckles turned white. It was one thing to hear insults and not feel provoked. But it was another to hear her insecurities being spoken out loud and validated by someone. He had twisted that knife. As fury got the best of her, and without fully considering her next move, she drew her sword out of its sheath with a loud clang and pointed the tip at his throat.

“Again, leave these stones,” she warned, her heartbeat thundering in her chest so loudly that she could hear it vibrating from her rib cage to her ears. “And there wouldn’t be a problem. I have already asked you nicely.”

A rush of adrenaline washed over her, but she couldn’t bring herself to move any further, much less consider what she ought to do next. She did not expect that she would be getting to this point of brandishing her weapon. Her sword hand trembled but remained pointed at her enemy.

“You wouldn’t dare draw first blood and risk the ire of our king and governor,” Hirata sneered, his tone scathing, gazing directly into her eyes as if daring her to draw blood. “Would you, my dear bride to be?”

Contempt washed over her visage as she held his gaze with fuming eyes, the rosy tint glowing hot under her olive skin. His cheeky, satisfied grin riled the simmering heat that threatened to consume her whole. She shuddered at the thought of having to coexist with him under one roof. The thought of sharing his bed made her stomach drop, pushing bile upward as she struggled to keep the contents down. Her throat constricted, and she swallowed down the wave of emotions that threatened to gush out.

Sensing her resolve crumbling, which tapped into the deepest part of his consciousness that longed to assert dominance, Hirata smiled with wicked amusement. The tip of the sword was still pointed at his throat, but he did not feel threatened by it. Rather, he found the situation highly amusing. As if a dark spirit had suddenly possessed his body, soul, and mind, a sick and cruel feeling started to take root within him. He felt a sudden urge – a need – to subjugate her. To make her submit and to show her how foolish she was for even trying to step out of her place.

In one swift motion, his hand moved to the saber that hung on a leather belt around his waist. Then he swiftly drew it out with a loud, metallic clang and, at full tilt, struck her sword with such force and precision that the blade severed in half while still in her hand. Within the blink of an eye, he had rendered her helpless and unarmed. The grin on his face remained steady and menacing.

She gasped at the sudden impact. It had happened so rapidly that she didn’t have time to react. Before she could process what had just happened, he had already reached out and grabbed onto the collar of her white robe in a vice grip, pulling her body closer to him with ease. The more she struggled, the tighter he held on, crumpling the silky fabric of her collar. He pulled her against his solid form and pushed his sneering face closer to hers until their noses were inches away from touching.

“Let go,” she groaned as she struggled to free herself.

Panic sets in when she realized how close their faces were to each other, merely inches away, to the point where she could feel his hot breath against her skin. She has never been this close to anyone before, never been held within such crushing proximity. She hated it. But what more could she do? The more she struggled, the tighter he clutched, until she could feel the blood in her neck constricting. He was either going to kill her or worse –

In her panic, she lifted the broken sword that was still in her hand. Before she could comprehend what her reflexes led her to do, she slashed him across the cheek with the severed blade, putting every strength that she had behind it. He shouted as it pierced through skin, drawing blood. On instinct, he released his tight grip on her collar and brought a hand to his face. A series of curses escaped his lips as he touched the wound, where blood gushed out furiously in crimson rivulets, staining his fingers.

Taking this as an opportunity to flee, she tore herself free and sprinted as far away from him as possible, towards the direction of the manor. The rugged landscapes seemed to have morphed into something more treacherous, making her destination appear unreachable. When she realized how far she has left to go, the fruitless yearning for her father’s approval quickly dissipated. All she could focus on was fleeing the furious, screaming man behind her. She charged forward as rapidly as her little feet can carry her, never dare looking back even as she heard his footsteps catching up to her from behind. He was inching closer until she could feel his presence right behind her, until she could hear his boots stomping the ground.

In an instant, a bright light flashed before her eyes and a hollow thud vibrated in her ears. A large rock had struck the back of her head with such force that she lost her balance and collapsed to the ground. Hirata picked up the rock again and slammed it down against her skull, drawing blood and producing a sizeable gash on her scalp. He then proceeded to kick her repeatedly in the stomach, hurling curses as his boots struck her ribs and caused her to curl up helplessly, until one forceful kick ultimately sent her rolling down the steep terrain.

Her body smacked against a scattering of tree branches and sedimentary rocks along the way, earning her scratches and gashes along her arms, face, and legs, as she rolled further down the hill. Her head suffered such a harsh blow that, although non-lethal, everything started to sound distorted, and her vision blurred. Pain was still radiating from where she had been struck, and she could hear a shrill sound ringing from the inside of her ears as light-headedness swept over her.

Finally, her momentum stilled as she reached the bottom of the hill. Her body ached in agony from the violent impact of her fall as well as from the powerful kicks that she repeatedly took from Hirata’s boots, and it took her moment to regain herself. Her movements were slow as she struggled to push herself up with her trembling arms.

By then, Hirata had fully caught up to her at the base of the mound. From where they were, they could no longer see discernable landmarks or structures that marked either of their territories. They were at the bottom of a steep hill, and the mound obscured anything discernable from view. He also realized that they were both fully hidden from potential prying eyes. Seizing his opportunity, he stooped down to where she laid struggling. She scuttled to get away but to no avail. He immediately overpowered her. As he towered above her, she could see that the blood on his cheek has smeared where he had touched it earlier, giving his countenance a sinister appearance. A few skin tissues curled over the gash, accentuating the scar and making it appear prominent and angry. The jagged, broken blade must have pierced through more than just the thin outer layer of his skin.

He looked menacing as he loomed over her, his eyes fuming with a glint of cruelty and delight. It terrified her, and she couldn’t move. All she could feel was his weight on top of her as he secured her firmly in place with his much bigger frame. As panic seized her, she found a meager dusting of strength and began to fight him off by flailing her arms, trying to land blows despite the lack of power behind them. But he quickly grasped both of her wrists and held them firmly in place above her head. His grip was so tight that she could feel the blood around her wrists constricting. She was sure that they will bruise later.

“You fucked up my face,” he snarled, “Now I’ll fuck up something of yours, bitch!”

Dear Heaven, she pleaded in her head as a single tear escaped from the corner of her eye and rolled down her temple, strike me dead before he could ruin me. She continued to pray silently to the earth, the heavens, and the many spirits that governed the land, the trees, and the air, begging for intervention. But all she got was cold indifference. A dreadful chill swept over her as she contended with their deafening silence.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp and stinging pain radiating from her pelvis and shot all the way up to her neck. She couldn’t recall what happened afterwards, as her mind wove out of consciousness from the searing inferno. She stared blankly into the darkened sky, which loomed with the ominous threat of an impending storm. The only thing that kept her grounded was the damp air against her skin. Then she felt a single drop of rain smacked against her forehead. Pretty soon, the heavens opened, and more rainfalls started trickling out of the sky, showering them both in a torrent.

She could hear him gasping through the thunder and lightning, but she refused to look him in the eye. She didn’t want to know what she would find if her eyes were to meet his. As he remained above her, the blood on his cheek continued to fall in tandem with the heavy rain and showered her face. Fortunately, the heavy rainfalls swiftly washed them away.

Perhaps Heaven heard her pleas, after all.

It was the least that it could do.