He devoted himself to teaching me classical poems, history, calligraphy, and mathematics, and every night, before I went to bed, he would ask me to recite Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. Oftentimes I went to sleep mumbling, “All warfare is based on deception…”
Days went by, then seasons and years. When I was twelve, one year before Emperor Taizong would summon me, Father took me to our family’s grave site. He looked to be in high spirits, his footsteps light and his head held high. He told me old stories of how he, the wealthiest man in Shanxi Prefecture, had funded the war of Emperor Gaozu when he decided to rebel against the Sui Dynasty, how when the Emperor was betrayed and forced to flee, Father opened the gates of our enormous home to accommodate his army, and how, after the war was won, Emperor Gaozu proposed the marriage between Father and Mother, cousin of an empress, daughter of a renowned noble faithful to the empire that had perished.
His long sleeves waving, Father showed me the undulating land that stretched to the edge of the sun—his land, my family’s land. “Will you promise to safeguard our family’s fortune and honor?” he asked me, his eyes glittering.
Clenching my fists, I nodded solemnly, and he laughed. His voice melted into the warm air and echoed on the tops of the distant cypresses.
The pleasure of pleasing him wrapped around me when I caught a pair of yellow bulbous eyes peering out of the bushes. The forest fell still, and all the chirping and rustling vanished. A shower of leaves, fur, and red drops poured down from the sky, and a scream pierced my ears. Perhaps it came from me, or Father, I was not sure, for everything turned black, and when I came to my senses, I was at the table with Mother and my two sisters, eating rice porridge with shredded pork.
One of our servants rushed into the reception hall, his chest heaving and his face wet with perspiration. There had been an accident, he said. Father had fallen off a cliff and died.
On the day of his funeral, a feeble sun blinked through the opaque morning haze that hovered above the mountain tracks. Slowly, I walked toward his grave. A blister broke on my toe, but I hardly felt it. In front of me, a priest wearing a square mask painted with four eyes hopped and danced, and near him, the bell ringers shook their small bells. The tinkling faded to the distant sky but lingered in my heart. Desperately, I searched my mind to find any clue that might hint at the nature of Father’s death, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not remember the details of the day he had died. I knelt, my face numb and my hands cold, as the hearse bearers pushed Father into the earthen chamber, burying him.
I thought my life was over. I did not know it had just begun.
2
When we returned home, a group of men waited in front of my house, their torches roaring in the night like flaming trees, and the black smoke stretching in the sky like the shadowy cobweb of a monstrous spider.
I recognized the magistrate, wearing my father’s hat. My heart sank. He had taken Father’s position. I knew the law well. No matter how much Father loved me, I was not his son, and thus I could not inherit his governorship. But there had to be another reason the magistrate was there. I stopped Mother and my two sisters, holding them close to me.
“Old woman,” the magistrate said to Mother, his hands on his hips, “take your worthless girls with you and get out of here.”
I could not stand this man or his utter disrespect of Mother. I stood before him. “Do not speak to my mother like this. If anyone needs to leave, it’s you. This is my home.”
“Not anymore.” He sneered. “It’s mine now. Everything belongs to me: the house, the treasure, and all the gold. Now, I order you to get out of my sight.” He waved, and his men lunged toward us, pushing us to the road.
“How dare you.” I struggled, trying to free myself from the arms that clamped on my shoulders. “You scoundrel!”
A sharp pain stabbed me as the magistrate drove his fist into my stomach. I was stunned. No one had ever struck me before. I dove toward him and kicked with all my might. But another blow fell on my back, and I tumbled to the ground, my vision blurred with pain. For a moment, I could hear only the echoes of loud slaps and my sisters’ frightened cries. I shook my head and struggled to rise, because at that moment, I saw that Mother, her hand on her face, fell beside me and gasped. Instinctively, I leaned over and wrapped my arms around her, shielding her as more blows rained down on me.
? ? ?
Finally, all the kicks and commotion died off, and the gates of my home closed behind me. From inside came loud laughter and cheers.