Bending at the Waist: Winds Rise in the Reed Marsh

I am Wei Heng, daughter of Xiao Qiao, born carrying the blood curse that wiped out my maternal family.

When I was thirteen, the lords’ heirs knelt beneath the crabapple blossoms in Ye City, all vying for my hand.

Behind the screen, Mother gently plucked the strings of her konghou. “A pomegranate has many seeds, a blessing that endures for generations.”

That was the third time I’d seen Father cut open a pomegranate with his sword. The first two times, blood had filled the air.

Then, as the hostage from Qingzhou approached with a scarlet pomegranate, I caught the stench of a snake.

The instant the arrow left the bow, the hall fell so quiet I could hear Mother’s strings snap.

The pomegranate split open in the heir’s hand, and a writhing baby snake hissed and flicked its tongue.

As Father’s sword pressed against the heir’s throat, a figure in the shadows suddenly shoved me from the tower.

As I fell, I saw my uncle’s face: the last surviving member of the Qiao family, who should have perished in the flames.

Recommendation:

“Plant the peach pit for me in a crack in the reef. Next year, in the briny wind, a tart sweetness will bloom.”

To live is to swallow the fruit that death has borne.

What we bury will ultimately remake us in flesh and blood.