Chiêu Hoàng spun around sharply. Like a small swallow darting through spring rain, she threw herself into his arms. Her shoulders trembled slightly in the chill of the misty night, but her heart blazed bright, like a newly lit ceramic parrot lamp.
High above, the flickering North Star constellation poured pure and crystalline stardust down to the Thăng Long Citadel. Below, the dancing flames of the northern watchtower streamed a transparent and golden light to the roof of Báo Thiên Pagoda. The night breeze rustled through the willow branches, stirring the hem of her robe as if whispering in tune with her emotions.
She lifted her face to look at him. Her deep and dark eyes, like the bottom of an autumn lake reflecting starlight, shimmered with feelings yet to be named.
Then, without a word of consent, heedless of decorum or propriety, she rose on tiptoe, tilted her head, and pressed a kiss to his lips. A kiss as light as a peach blossom petal drifting onto the surface of Lục Thủy Lake. The first pure kiss of an eighteen-year-old maiden.
His lips parted slightly, not so much in response but as a natural reflex of a heart beating in rhythm with hers. In that fleeting moment, the world fell silent, leaving only the two of them—a young man and a young girl—standing beneath the clear night sky of Thăng Long, amid a spring breeze as soft as silk. They pledged no vows with words, but with the shared, trembling beat of their hearts.
The kiss, though brief, sparked like a small flame smoldering in the cold spring night. Chiêu Hoàng gently pulled away, hesitating as she looked down. Her cheeks flushed like newly bloomed peach blossoms, her breath trembling like a butterfly alighting on someone's hand.
Ngô Tuấn said nothing, only gently tightened his grip on her shoulders, his gaze as deep and still as a nocturnal lake—one that could reflect the very soul. No words were needed, for language was superfluous between them. They quietly leaned into each other in the soft darkness beneath the great bronze bell, where the white light of the North Star constellation and the golden glow of the northern watchtower seemed to encase them in two layers of precious metal.
The night breeze continued to blow gently. A sudden spring rain began to fall, its delicate strands like silk. In that quiet stillness, two young bodies touched for the first time—not with fervor or passion, but slowly and clumsily, like two people learning to write a poem with their bodies.
Chiêu Hoàng trembled slightly as his hand brushed her skin—not out of fear, but astonishment. Never had she known a touch could set her blood aflame like this. She closed her eyes, savoring each breath, each heartbeat, each gentle movement like waves lapping against a summer shore.
Her delicate frame nestled perfectly in his arms, like a blade of grass caught in a great wind—fragile yet yielding. The golden and silvery light filtering through the bell tower's roof painted their entwined silhouettes, blurring the line between body and shadow. All that remained was a tender, sacred communion between two young souls, offering each other everything they had.
When the night grew deep and the spring rain ceased, only the warmth of their synchronized heartbeats lingered. Chiêu Hoàng rested her head on his chest, her eyes half-closed, still scarcely believing what had just happened.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead—not with the earlier clumsiness, but with tender reverence. Outside, the rain had stopped, and the moon rose high, bearing witness to a wordless union, unforgettable for eternity.
After a long while, Chiêu Hoàng sat up. A strand of her dark hair, faintly scented with pomelo, fell loosely over her bare shoulder. She reached out, grasping his rough, battle-calloused hand, holding it tightly. She feared that letting go would leave her with nothing to cling to in a world full of deceit. Her eyes were no longer those of a princess, nor of a woman who had just crossed the threshold of love, but of a girl who had placed her entire heart in the hands of the man before her—without hesitation, without regret.
"Go," she said, her voice soft but resolute, both a command and a plea. "Let's go…"
Ngô Tuấn's brow furrowed, not from doubt but from the suddenness of her words in the quiet night, their warmth still lingering.
"Go where?" he asked, his hand still intertwined with hers.
"Anywhere," she replied, her gaze distant, fixed on the faint dawn light beginning to overtake the fading night above the roofs of Thăng Long's royal palace. "Anywhere away from this place. Away from this bustling capital, where gold and splendor are mere masks, where love is weighed like market goods, where every wall has ears, and every lamp is a trap."
Ngô Tuấn fell silent. The breeze from the veranda carried the scent of earth after rain and, faintly, the crow of a rooster heralding the end of night and the dawn of a new day. He knew that agreeing meant abandoning everything—honor, duty, even the identity that clung to him like a shadow. But refusing meant losing her forever.
She kept looking at him—not crying, not pleading, just gazing with weary, tender eyes as deep as Lục Thủy Lake, awaiting the first breeze of the new day.
"But what about…" he hesitated.
"What else is there? My father will give me to Chế Củ as an award after three games of chess."
"No, Princess Chiêu Hoàng," he said, squeezing her hand. "His Majesty can only give you to Chế Củ if he kneels down and vows to be a vassal. A proud southern king like him will never submit and become a vassal."
"But what if he defeats my father in all three games?"
"He cannot win. He will never defeat His Majesty."
"How can you be so sure? Even the chess is a game of intellectual, chess still involves chance and luck."
"He cannot win. Tomorrow, there will be three games: two of chess and one of Human Chess."
"Exactly."
"He cannot win the two chess games. In the afternoon, you asked me why I am not attending, His Majesty, and how I can move so freely within the forbidden palace."
"Yes. Why?"
"I found and have just brought the Chess Master of the Kingdom, who is the champion in all chess games during Tết festival, into the forbidden palace. He will secretly guide His Majesty."
"And the final Human Chess game? How the Chess Master could fight and win against all Champa warriors?"
"Let me explain to you. If Chế Củ loses both chess games, the Human Chess game becomes meaningless. No one will need to fight further. No blood will be shed needlessly. Even if he loses only one chess game, he cannot win the Human Chess game. The Human Chess will be human fighting until the death, not normal game. No matter how skilled his chosen soldiers and warriors are, they cannot defeat ours."
"Why not?"
"You're also a very good player of chess. I've seen you play at the end of court sessions. Human chess does not just have Pawns."
"Correct. There are Rooks, Cannons, Knights, and Elephants."
"No matter how skilled the Champa soldiers and warriors are, they cannot train horses and elephants proficiently in a single day. Nor can they master cannons and chariots in a very short time. Without Elephants, Rooks, Cannons, or Knights, they cannot win."
"But… if Chế Củ loses, he'll be released."
"Win or lose—he'll be released. Only if he surrenders will he receive the reward - you. He will never kneel down. You'll remain in the capital."
"No, you're mistaken. Love has clouded your eyes and thoughts. If Chế Củ loses, he'll have to swear loyalty to my father. And I will be the reward for that loyalty."
"No, Princess Chiêu Hoàng. I'm never mistaken. He's a man of honor, like me. A true man puts the nation's interest above all else, even his life. His life means nothing before national interest. I'd rather die than kneel down," Ngô Tuấn said, his voice firm and fierce.
Chiêu Hoàng looked up at him in surprise. Of course, she was a woman. She could not understand the thoughts of such honorable men. Suddenly, a quiet fear crept deep into her heart. What was this "national interest"?
It made a powerful man like Trần Thủ Độ kneel before her, a great emperor like her father avoid meeting her, and a proud young man raise his voice to her after hours of passionate love-making. In the chess game of national interest, she had already lost.
She gazed deeply into her beloved's eyes, her own sparkling like Lục Thủy Lake reflecting the morning sun.
"But, my question is to you, my love. Do you want to go with me—to the ends of the earth?" She asked gently and sweetly.
"I do," he replied, his voice low and resolute. "I will go with you, my Princess—after the chess games tomorrow."
Outside, the first light of dawn touched the ancient tiled roofs, like a silent blessing for those daring to abandon their fate and seek their own freedom.