My Father’s Smile, My Mother’s Pin by Wen Wen Yang

“Nana, who is the man with Mama and Papa?” I asked as I stopped the eldest maid from entering the courtyard with my foot. The man I saw wore an expensive silk overcoat, embroidered with phoenixes and lotuses, all symbols of longevity. He was an old looking man, at least a decade older than me.

“It seems he will be your husband.” Nana’s face lit up as she rolled the last word off her tongue and sent it crashing into my heart.

“That’s not funny Nana,” I frowned as I slipped behind the curtain and retreated to my room. I fell into one of my many novels, entering the lives of a warrior, of a scholar, of an assassin. Anything is better than a merchant’s daughter, to be used as any other piece of merchandise, sold for profit.

Unfortunately, Nana was right. She didn’t even get a chance to give me her ‘told you so’ face. A few weeks later, I learned the truth, and I was soon preparing for my wedding night.

“You will be taken in the palace then your beloved.” Mama said as she hooked on the last jade broach in my hair.

“I don’t love him.” She shook her head. Love was worth little in marriage. “He’s old as Papa.”

“No, Papa is a Tiger.” Her fingers raked through my hair. “F’hur is a Snake.” I hissed in agreement. A snake indeed!

“That’s only three years younger Mama. Please don’t make me.” I made my best pleading face into the mirror. She looked away as she fetched the gold earrings from the dresser.

“You have to. He is a rich man.”

My mind caught something. “Wait, you said I would go to the palace first?”

“Yes, the king will have you first.”

“Have me? What am I, a trophy getting passed around at the end of a game?” I would have jumped out of my seat if she hadn’t grabbed onto my shoulders and pushed me back down. She sets one of the earrings in place and walks around me to get the other.

“I suppose I’ve kept this from you long enough, the king has the bride before her husband…”

“Does that mean you…?” My voice trailed off, too repulsed to continue.

“The present king’s father had me.” She didn’t look at me, but I could see the whites of her eyes reddening.

I stared into the mirror. I had her obedient hair, oval face and sad eyes. But I had my father’s smile. He had a cunning smile to deceive anyone. Anyone except Mama, of course; she figured it out years ago.

“Mama, may I have your white jade broach?” She obliged. I smiled. She didn’t recognize the cunning smile, which was perfectly fine. She’ll hear about it someday.

The ride to the palace was hell. The wait inside his bedroom chamber was worse. I sat still in my powdered mask, perfumed and primed. The new pink dress itched. I rubbed my legs against each other, trying to ease my discomfort. I stopped when I heard his stumbling steps. One of the guards grunted. The door opened, announcing his ominous entrance. He was perhaps younger than my husband-to-be, but still repulsive to look at. He grinned at me as he balanced himself on the guard’s arm. The guard released his shoulders, though alert to his actions, in case he should fall over. He staggered into the room. The guard closed the door behind him.

“I didn’t realize I had a maiden tonight.” He came closer, letting me see his yellow teeth and intense eyes. I could smell the liquor on his breath and clothes. His hand grabbed my chin and tilted it upwards forcefully. “What is your name?”

I pursed my lips. He grinned wider and leaned toward my lips with his. The liquor on his breath made my stomach lurch.

I screamed. No one came. The guards were used to screams, but so was he.

“Maiden,” He said as he pulled back. “No one will come. This duty is rather noisy…though I can’t say I don’t enjoy it.” He chuckled, making me slide away from him on the bed. He collapsed into the seat beside me. I stood up.

“Oh,” he clicked his tongue in displeasure. “You are rather old to be playing games, aren’t you?” I stepped back. “Then again, you are rather young too, how old are you? Fourteen summers?” I lifted my hand to my mother’s hairpin. The white jade was cold.

White is the color of death.

As I released it from my hair’s grip, it caught the light in its brilliance. My hair fell to my shoulders. The king cooed like a child. “Ah, so you aren’t too young. You know the game.” He slid himself in front of me and grabbed my sides. I felt the fingers forming bruises as they dug into my flesh. He tugged at the dress forcefully. The stitches gave in around my shoulders. He grinned, loving his game.

He stood and began to devour my neck, as if I was edible. I could feel his breath as his lips moved, both hot and revolting. His fingers were tugging at the dress, trying to pull it apart at the seams.

Swallowing my disgust, I laughed. The sound was foreign to my ears. When was the last time I laughed? Years ago, I think.

The king looked up from my neck and stared at me curiously. I gave him my father’s smile. I pushed him by the shoulders onto the bed. His smile returned as I straddled his lap.

I wrapped my fingers around the pin. It was longer than my pointer finger from the dragon crest to the tip. I placed the dragon onto the center of my palm and took a deep breath.

I looked up suddenly, as if seeing a ghost behind the king. He followed, but his reactions were slightly slower than mine. I took my chance. I raised the pin high and sent it down into the soft spot where one’s neck meets the shoulder, between the bones. He screams. No one comes. I twisted the pin around a bit, letting the blood cover my hands and dress. He tried to push me away, but his poison and the pain drank his strength. He finally fell back.

I drained him. I killed the king.

I picked up the pin and wiped the blood on my dress. A point had broken off while it was inside the king. I decided against retrieving it, but did get an idea. I ripped open the king’s shirt. Using the pin as a quill, I began to write, scratching each character into the skin, “If any king should have another’s bride, they will meet this same fate. Should any marriage be made against either party’s will, the parents will meet this same fate.” I pulled my hair back and placed the pin carefully into the mess. The blood was still pooling on his bed. My hands dripped into the now lukewarm liquid. I made bloody marks across my thighs and sides.

Satisfied, I walked out of the room and silently closed the door. The guards approached. I held up my hands and pressed a bloody finger to my lip.

“He told me to tell you that he wants some rest.” I made a genuine attempt to neaten my hair. The guards nodded, blushing at my gestures and looked away. They probably had daughters too.

“We should have you cleaned by the maids.” They suggested, staring at the floor.

“No,” I whispered, “My husband is a merchant, he trusts no one. I have to arrive at his doorstep like this so there is no disputing that the king did his duty.” They nodded silently and returned to their posts.

I bowed and limped away. I exited the palace and called the carriage driver who brought me to the palace. I gave him the name of my husband-to-be. I made an attempt at raising my leg, but made it obvious that I could not do so. The driver quickly bent to one knee and let me step onto his knee before jumping into the carriage. I gave him a blushing smile.

We arrived at the house. I made another great effort to get out of the carriage. The rider wrapped his fingers gingerly around my waist and placed me on the ground. I bowed low. He blushed and rode back to the court.

I turned and knocked on the door. The man I saw just weeks before answered. He looked down at my dress and blushed as red as the blood. He hurried me inside and closed the door.

“The king certainly did his business I see.” He stared at my body. My fingers twitched to do the same to him as I did the king. I contemplated my choices.

“The blood isn’t mine. It’s the king’s.” His face turned pale. I continued, my own face colder than stone. “In the morning they will learn that the king has been assassinated.” I pulled out the pin “If you wish to join him in the dark world, scream. If not, speak of this to no one and officially proclaim me as your wife.” He didn’t move, but he didn’t scream. Finally, his lips quivered.

“You will be my wife.” He mouthed, not having the strength to put a voice behind the words.

“I will have every right you have, to journey at night, to read and write as according to my wishes, and you will never, ever touch me. Is that understood?” He nodded. I sighed heavily. No one will suspect a woman capable of killing. They will question the guards, and perhaps my husband, but they will find nothing.

“Good,” I turned and walked to the door.

“Where are you going?” I heard him ask, his voice finally returning. There was a trembling in his tone. I cannot say I was not satisfied with my effect on the man.

“I need to buy a new pin.”