Chapter 17: Caged Swallow
Chen Zhongxin had been a classmate of Chun Tian’s father, and the bond between the two was far from ordinary. But Uncle Chen had joined the frontier military early in life, and in the few brief encounters they’d had, Chun Tian could no longer recall his face. She only vaguely remembered a pair of warm, broad hands gently caressing her head, and a hearty voice laughing, “I’m taking your father with me–Niuniu should not cry.”
Her father’s name was Chun Yue, courtesy name Zhongfu. He had once been a minor judicial clerk in Chang’an, with a chivalrous spirit and gallant demeanor like that of a knight-errant. At the age of twenty, he married the Second Young Lady of the Xue family, who lived next door. The two had grown up together and shared a deep bond. A year after their marriage, Chun Tian was born with a cry.
The Chun family were outsiders to the region. Chun Tian’s grandfather had moved the family to Xinfeng in Chang’an when he was young, bringing with him his household and only modest means–nothing comparable to those of the wealthy elite. Her father earned a meager salary and, being generous and straightforward by nature, often found himself struggling to make ends meet.
Chun Tian remembered they had only a single maidservant, Lanxiang, and all other household affairs fell to her mother, who managed them personally. Yet her parents lived in harmony, treating each other with mutual respect and deep affection. They cherished Chun Tian like a precious treasure, caring for her in every possible way.
At the time, they rented a modest home. The space was cramped–there was a grape trellis built beside the main hall, and balsam flowers crowded the corridor. Chun Tian would study under the grape trellis with her father, head bobbing with each word. Her mother sat nearby beneath the eaves, embroidering, her freshly dyed red nails flashing as they shuttled through the brocade.
Every now and then, the three would lift their heads and exchange bright smiles. Life didn’t feel difficult. Even within the daily necessities of rice, oil, salt, and firewood, there was poetry–in the spring blossoms, autumn moons, and the quiet joy of a shared life.
Chun Tian’s mother had an elder brother, who had two daughters and a son. The two families originally lived close to each other, and Chun Tian often played with her cousins.
Her uncle had just begun working at the Ministry of Justice. Though his rank was modest, he was adept at navigating officialdom and advanced steadily in his career. He had repeatedly tried to offer Chun Tian’s father a helping hand, but her father had always tactfully declined.
Later, her uncle purchased a residence within the city of Chang’an. One year, during the Mid-Autumn Festival, her father brought the whole family to his brother-in-law’s house for a banquet. During the meal, the two men had a fierce argument. Her uncle slammed the table in anger, scolding her father for “failing to appreciate someone’s kindness, thinking of oneself as holier-than-thou” while her father met him with a cold stare, storming off in a huff. From that day on, the families severed all ties.
Chun Tian once asked her mother, “Why did Father fight with Uncle? Ever since then, the older sisters don’t play with me anymore. Yesterday, I saw Yingyu-jiejie sitting high up in a carriage, and even when I called her, she wouldn’t answer.”
Chun Tian’s Mother furrowed her brow, her voice gentle and soft. “Your father is open and candid, upright and noble in his aspirations. Your uncle misunderstood him on some matters. And as for your cousins–not speaking to Niuniu, may just be because they did not hear you.”
But Chun Tian was not particularly bothered that her cousins no longer played with her. Compared to her sisters who flitted among flowers and chased butterflies, she much preferred spending time with her father–riding horses to admire blossoms, listening to operas in teahouses.
Even so, her mother began to carry a constant air of worry, due to being caught between the rift between husband and her own brother, due to her brother’s disdain for poverty and snobbish preference.
The last time Uncle Chen returned to Chang’an, he and her father drank beneath the grape trellis, sharing wine and laughter until they were both thoroughly drunk. They beat on the table and sang loudly, ending with hearty laughter and arms thrown over each other’s shoulders.
That night, Chun Tian woke in the middle of the night, rubbing her sleepy eyes, only to find her parents talking quietly by candlelight. Her mother’s eyes were red and swollen with tears, as her father held her slender shoulders, murmuring words of comfort.
From that night on, her father laid down his pen and took up the sword, following Uncle Chen into the army.
Before leaving, her father brought both mother and daughter back to knock on the Xue family’s door once more. By then, her uncle’s official career had flourished, and he was no longer the man of modest means he had once been.
With no elders or extended kin in the Chun family, her father worried that his fragile wife would not be able to manage on her own. So he entrusted her and their daughter to the care of the Xue household.
Though her uncle still harbored some resentment toward her father, he could not turn away his own sister and agreed to the matter. After her father left, Chun Tian and her mother moved into the Xue residence, living quietly behind a small corner gate, dependent on others for survival.
But life in Chun Tian’s uncle’s household was far from easy. Her uncle was often occupied with official duties, while her aunt managed the household affairs.
Her aunt was a strict and demanding woman. Though she never spoke outright, over time it became clear that she saw Chun Tian and her mother as a burden. Whenever the two of them happened to use a little more of the residence’s silver, her aunt’s expression would turn impatient. And when small quarrels arose among the children, her aunt would scold them with thinly veiled barbs towards the mother-daughter duo, pointing at the mulberry tree and cursing the locust tree1. This left her mother often in tears, forced to keep her head low and quietly endure. In private, she took on more sewing work to help make ends meet.
Her mother’s needlework was exquisite. Back then, it was often Lanxiang who would carry a basket out through the small side gate, selling her mother’s handmade garments and handkerchiefs to the shops outside in exchange for a bit of money to keep the household going.
Her father’s letters were always sent through official couriers to her uncle, who would then pass them on to her mother. The day a letter arrived felt like a festival, her mother would tear it open the moment she received it, unable to wait. Father would write about the customs and daily life on the frontier.
He was stationed in a place in the northwest called Ganlu, a green oasis in the midst of desert, lush with vegetation and teeming with cattle and horses. Many curious and amusing things happened there.
It was Chun Tian who wrote the replies. While her mother embroidered, she would speak softly. At the end, Chun Tian would always add a few lines of her own:
“Are the wild roots you dug up tasty? What do they taste like? Papa, you mentioned helping the little horse give birth, how many foals were born?”
Life was monotonous, but there was always something to look forward to.
Later, as conflict escalated, the letters came less frequently. Then, they stopped altogether. Eventually, someone returned with her father’s belongings.
Her uncle claimed that her father had craved military merit, and had taken it upon himself to lead a surprise attack on the Turkic army without prior authorization. He had fallen into an ambush and died deep in enemy territory. The army had been unable to recover the commandant’s remains. All they brought back were a few of his possessions, among them, her father’s dagger.
At the time, she was not yet ten years old, but already understood many things. Though her mother, with her uncle’s help, erected a memorial tomb in honor of her father, Chun Tian firmly believed he was still alive–perhaps rescued by someone, perhaps lost and unable to find his way–but one day, he would surely return to Chang’an, high-spirited and proud. He would bring joy and happiness back to their lives, and finally earn the respect of her status-obsessed uncle.
Half a year after her father’s presumed death, the Third Madam of the Wei family hosted a chrysanthemum banquet. Though the Xue family had never had any real connection with the Wei family, Chun Tian’s aunt surprisingly received an invitation. Even more strangely, she insisted that Chun Tian’s mother accompany her. Still in her mourning period, her mother repeatedly declined in every possible way, but her aunt pressed on, even sending fashionable dresses and jewelry as gifts.
In the end, her mother summoned the courage and went. But that evening, only Chun Tian’s aunt returned.
Chun Tian’s aunt came home with a dark expression, stormed into her husband’s study, and cursed furiously, shouting, “That shameless, ignorant fool!”
It was said that at the flower banquet, her mother had stolen a gold hairpin belonging to the Wei family’s Third Madam. She was allegedly caught in secret by the Wei household and locked away in the woodshed, with no one permitted to see her.
When Chun Tian heard this, she argued fiercely with her uncle and aunt. Her aunt, enraged, shoved her. Chun Tian fell beneath the corridor and hit her head, leaving a large bruise.
The Wei family was one of the most powerful and influential clans of the time–no one dared cross them. But Chun Tian knew her mother was not that kind of person. Now, whether her mom was alive or dead was unknown, Chun Tian cried, feeling as if her liver and guts had been cut to pieces.
Her uncle rushed about for two days in a flurry, only to suddenly grow relaxed, even cheerful.
From the hushed, evasive conversations of the adults, Chun Tian discovered: at the banquet, her mother had caught the eye of Wei Shaozong, the third legitimate son of the Wei family. She had been forcibly taken into their household. The story about the stolen hairpin was nothing but a pretense.
Her mother returned once after that. Her clothes were lavish, her expression desolate. She shared a meal with Chun Tian, packed a few belongings, took Lanxiang with her, and left in haste.
The next day, the Wei family sent over several chests, which her aunt received with delight and stored away in the side room.
From that day forward, her aunt became unusually attentive and kind to Chun Tian. At the time, the Wei family was basking in imperial favor, and Wei Shaozong, as the third legitimate son, held great influence. Establishing such a relationship promised tremendous benefits for her uncle’s official career.
Her innocence, perhaps, came to an abrupt end the day her father left home. After her mother entered the Wei household, Chun Tian changed, becoming a quiet, somber girl.
It became nearly impossible to see her mother again. On rare occasions, her aunt would take her out, and from a distance, she might catch a fleeting glimpse, her mother, cloaked in sorrow, looking too weak to even bear the weight of one’s own clothes.
When Chun Tian turned twelve, the Wei family fell from grace, having incurred the Emperor’s wrath. The entire clan was punished; their wives and daughters condemned to lives of servitude and prostitution.
Chun Tian begged her uncle to rescue her mother from the Wei household. But her uncle, already having been suppressed by superiors due to his ties to the Weis, was trembling with fear, barely able to protect himself. He tried pulling strings and gathering information. Word came that on the day the Wei Residence was raided, her mother had leapt into a river in an attempt to take her own life, but was pulled from the water and then disappeared without a trace.
Chun Tian fell gravely ill.
A year later, while accompanying her uncle and aunt to a temple to offer incense, she was stopped in a side hall by a young attendant and was stunned to see her mother: adorned in pearls and jade, standing beside a middle-aged man of commanding, heroic presence and lavish attire.
That man was none other than the current Prince Jing, the very official who had overseen the raid on the Wei household and who had taken her mother away from the Wei residence.
Her uncle and aunt held her hands and led her forward to pay respects to the prince. Smiling and gesturing toward Chun Tian, they introduced her, saying that this was the youngest daughter of the Xue family, her childhood name is Chun Tian, though she was known as Niuniu at home.
Her mother stood to the side, holding Chun Tian in her arms, weeping uncontrollably, yet said nothing to refute those words. It was as if, in silence, she accepted them.
From that moment on, her mother became her “aunt,” and Chun Tian became the “daughter” of her uncle and aunt.
Later, her mother moved into Prince Jing’s Residence Her uncle’s long-quiet household once again became lively and well-regarded. Every few months, her mother would find an excuse to visit, gently holding Chun Tian’s hand, showering her with affection and tenderness.
Later, she discovered an already opened letter in her uncle’s private study.
It was written years ago and addressed to her mother, after her father’s death. The sender was Chen Zhongxin. In it, he confessed that it had been he who persuaded Zhongfu to lay down his brush and take up arms. Never had he imagined that Zhongfu would fall in battle. He expressed his deep remorse toward the mother-daughter duo, but also wrote that her father’s death was shrouded in suspicion. Unfortunately, Uncle Chen’s words held little influence and had faced repeated obstruction in his attempts to investigate.
He had hoped to travel to Ganlu to recover Zhongfu’s remains, but had instead received a transfer order, demoting him to Xizhou. In the letter, he asked whether any male relative from the family might be sent to assist him in retrieving the remains from the battlefield, so that Zhongfu could be properly laid to rest back in his hometown.
Her uncle had read this letter, yet never said a word about it. Because by that time, her mother had already entered the Wei household, as a concubine of Wei Shaozong.
When Chun Tian found the letter, she broke down in great anguish. The poor Chun family had no one left, not a single servant, not a distant relative. Her mother had remarried into another household, leaving her a helpless orphan, unable even to retrieve her father’s bones.
She presented the letter to her uncle again, pleading with him to help investigate the circumstances surrounding her father’s death. At the time, her uncle’s position was not the highest, but he held enough authority in the Ministry of Justice to make inquiries. Among his daily social interactions and connections, they spanned officials from various departments who had access to relevant information for verification. Yet he evaded her time and again, offering vague excuses and breaking promise after promise, leaving her in mounting disappointment.
Chun Tian had originally intended to give the letter to her mother–hoping, through her, to ask Prince Jing for help in recovering her father’s remains and restoring his name.
But to her surprise, her uncle stopped her. He said that the gates of Prince Jing’s Residence were profound and deep, and that her mother, though favored, still lived each day in fear and trepidation. If old matters from the past were suddenly dredged up and happened to displease the Prince, how would her mother endure it afterward? Additionally, since her father’s death several years ago, the situation at the frontier was unstable, the situation ever-changing: traveling there was no longer simple. She was only allowed to perform a few more rituals in the temple.
Her father’s death–its sorrow and injustice–now remained with her alone.
Her mother, Xue furen, had always been like a slender cypress vine blossom: delicate, innocent, fragile, and powerless. Whether it was fate or the workings of heaven, she was involuntarily drifting further and further away from Chun Tian, unable to return.
Chun Tian thought: If my mother can only survive by depending on others, then I, in this life, will become a steadfast pine—no, a swallow in the sky. No one shall bind me, possess me, or stop me.
What thoughts and courage could possibly stir in the heart of a thirteen-year-old girl raised in the inner boudoir? No one could truly know.
She was clever and sharp, well-read and possessed a strong memory. Because of her father’s decision to abandon the pen for the sword, she had developed a deep yearning for life beyond the frontier, toward the vast northwest.
In recent years, her mother and Prince Jing had often bestowed upon her gifts of gold, silver, and precious treasures. She quietly sold off a portion, exchanging them for silver. By chance, she managed to purchase an expensive, blank travel permit. Disguising herself as a young boy, she waited patiently for the right moment. And when it came, she joined the entourage of a family of officials relocating west, following them all the way to Longxi.
Her father had died wrongfully on the battlefield. Though his enemies were long gone, his soul still wandered, unable to rest. She wanted to bring his remains home to Chang’an. Even if she were to perish on the journey, she would not be afraid. She was almost entirely alone in the world now, with nothing to hold her back. Death no longer frightened her.
She had planned this for a long time, poring over every book she could find about traveling west, even secretly reading official dispatches from her uncle’s study. With great caution, she journeyed from Chang’an to Liangzhou, a trip that took more than three months. From Liangzhou, she continued westward, until danger finally found her at Red Ravine Valley.
The twists and hardships she had endured, if anyone else were to learn of them, would leave them speechless, able only to click their tongues and murmur a word of admiration.
Footnotes:
- To point at the mulberry tree and curse the locust tree: chinese idiom meaning to to make oblique accusations ↩︎
TN: Hope everyone is doing well! Our female MC’s backstory is quite sad. Women were very powerless back then, as we saw with her mother. For Chun Tian to develop a melancholic personality and resolve to get her Father’s remains despite the tragedies that occurred is very admirable and courageous.
Announcement: We have set up a kofi and patreon account! If you would like to support us or get early access to advance chapters, those options are available for you (in support us page)! Since I am a grad student, there should usually be at least 10 advance chapters in the document at a time, but depending on my schedules, there may be fewer or more. I’m currently extremely busy, but I have translated out some new chapters for you all! But, I will still post each week with the same schedule. Thanks!
Twin Dragons Translations 