The rustling sound of the wind blowing through the wheat fields mingled with the distant laughter of children, all filled with anticipation for the future.
The smells in the wind are always changing; sometimes they are the aroma of sweets and dried meat from the streets.
Mixed with the vendors' shouts of "Fresh fruit for sale at rock-bottom prices, or your money back!", their clear voices could penetrate the crowd.
Sometimes it's the scent of grass and soil from the field ridges, accompanied by the farmers' laughter and chatter about "getting a new outfit for the child this year, and buying a rag doll," their voices full of satisfaction.
These were things I had never experienced in the deep palace, like sweet spring water, slowly seeping into the corners of my heart that were confined by the rules of "how the imperial sister should behave".
It was so sweet it made my heart flutter, and even breathing felt lighter than in the palace.
I gradually realized that life wasn't just about tracing characters, learning rituals, and practicing needlework; it could also be filled with such lively atmosphere and such carefree joy.
It was during these days that I gradually developed some different ideas.
In the past, my elder brother, the Crown Prince, would always frown and lecture me, tapping his fingers on the rosewood table, making a "thump-thump" sound, his tone carrying an unquestionable severity.
"Women should keep to their proper place, learn needlework and etiquette, that's enough. What kind of behavior is it to brandish swords and spears? People will laugh at us if word gets out!"
"Your Highness, please don't meddle in court affairs. The intricacies in those memorials are not for you to handle, lest you cause trouble and give others something to gossip about."
But looking at the women selling embroidery at the market, the mandarin ducks they embroidered with their nimble fingers were so lifelike that even light couldn't pass through them.
Beside her embroidery frame were two cloth bags, which were snacks prepared for the children studying at the school. When the children came to bring her hot soup after school, the smile in her eyes was brighter than the gold thread on her embroidery.
Watching the girls in the farm work in the fields, carrying hoes taller than themselves, their strength was no less than that of the men.
When talking about this year's harvest, the light in his eyes was even brighter than the sun overhead.
I suddenly realized that the "natural" principles he spoke of weren't entirely correct, and that women could also live fulfilling lives through their own abilities.
Later, I vaguely understood some deeper reasons.
Once, while passing by the East Palace, I overheard him whispering to his personal attendant, "My sister has been going out a lot lately, and she keeps going to the martial arts training ground."
Keep a close eye on her and prevent her from contacting those military generals and ministers, especially Prince Jinrui Zhao.”
The wariness in his words was impossible to hide, as if he was afraid I would steal his most treasured possession.
I hid behind a pillar, watching the servant nod in agreement. My fingertips unconsciously clenched my sleeves, and my heart suddenly sank.
His strict control over me might not just stem from a genuine belief that "women are not good enough," but also from a fear that I might develop an interest in the imperial court.
I fear that I might use the martial arts arena and the power of King Zhao to compete with him for the dragon throne placed in the Hall of Supreme Harmony, which symbolizes supreme power.
But what's so good about the throne? I watched my father get up before dawn every day, put on his court robe embroidered with a five-clawed golden dragon, sit in front of his desk, and his vermilion brush was almost never stopped.
Even a peaceful meal had to be eaten in two or three meals—sometimes, just as one had picked up the bowl, a eunuch would come in carrying a memorial with the words "urgent" printed on it.
The way he put down his chopsticks always carried a hint of helplessness, his brows furrowed, and even the gray hairs at his temples became more prominent.
After the Crown Prince took over the reins of government, he often frowned at the memorials until late at night. The candlelight cast a long shadow on the wall, and even his shoulders were tense.
Several times when I passed by the East Palace, I saw him rubbing his throbbing temples, his eyes full of exhaustion, too lazy to even speak, just leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed to rest.
I don't want that kind of busyness, that kind of helplessness, where I can't even find time to do the things I like.
All I want is to be able to hold the black iron spear shaft in the training ground as often as possible, the wood grain on the shaft becoming darker from the sweat in my palms, practicing until my clothes are soaked with sweat and my arms ache.
Listen to the sharp "whoosh" of the gun tip cutting through the wind, feel the exhilaration of the wind rushing past your ears, and watch the sunlight fall on the gun tip, gleaming coldly.
I only wish that one day I could follow King Zhao and the others to the border to see the snow at Yanmen Pass, and see how they held their weapons and guarded the large banner embroidered with the words "Chengxiao" on the city wall.
They protected the smoke rising from the chimneys at dawn and the children returning home at dusk, and listened as the people held their hands and said, "With you here, we feel at ease."
All I wanted was for Ah Tao, who was in charge of cleaning the weapons, to say, "If Your Highness could come and stay at the military camp for a long time in the future, we would teach you to ride horses and shoot arrows, and we would patrol the camp together."
At night, we could gather around the campfire and listen to Captain Ling Shuang tell stories of the battlefield—she even told us last time that she saw a glowing shooting star at Yanmen Pass, and wishes made from it were incredibly effective!
Those were the days I truly longed for—simple, vibrant, and full of freedom.
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