The inner courtyard chamber where LiuHua had once slept was now a sanctuary of ghosts. The air was thick and still, heavy with the lingering scents of sandalwood from the funeral pyre and the sweet, phantom fragrance of cherry blossoms and something else – something sorrowful. Not incense, but a ghost of memories of sweetness that refused to leave. A single oil lamp burned on a low table, casting a long, trembling shadows that danced like sorrowful spirits on the walls.
The room that once held the softest laughter In the world was now quieter than death.
Madam Han sat alone on the edge of the small wooden bed, where her little sunshine used to sleep for years. her back straight but slightly hunched, her posture that of a general holding a line that had already been broken. The hands that took down even the most venomous demons without a flinch was trembling on her lap. Between her fingers she held a small, faded dress of pink silk - no larger than a handkerchief. Embroidered in the center was a single, crooked lotus stitched with uneven motherly care. Madam Han had poured her sloppy skills of embroidery to make this dress herself for her baby girl on her very first grand celebration.
It was from LiuHua's first birthday, one of the few things Madam Han had kept hidden all these years, a secret treasure from a life that felt like a dream now.
The colors had faded, and the threads frayed, but she held it as if it were life itself.
It was a gift made by her own trembling hands sixteen years ago.
Her fingers, rough from years of wielding a sword, trembled as they traced the lopsided petals. She brought the soft, worn fabric to her chest, clutching it as if it held the last lingering warmth of her daughter. As the fabric brushed her cheek, a single, hot tear escaped and fell onto the silk — warm, quiet, determined — as if retracing a road her grief had walked many times in silence. The scent of old memories bloomed, and the dim, quiet room faded away.
The thunder cracked above the roof. Rain pelted the courtyard. The windows shook with the wind.
The room was cold. A winter storm raged outside the paper windows of the Han residence, the wind howling like a hungry wolf. A tiny infant, no more than three months old, lay swaddled in blankets, cheeks flushed, fingers grasping at the air with no rhythm. She was tiny. Almost too small. Her breath came in shallow puffs, her nose was just a pink dot on her porcelain face.
Madam Han had been scared. So, so scared. The child had been silent since arriving — neither crying nor laughing. Just… waiting. As if the world hadn't yet earned her voice.
She had never dared call the child hers. She had raised warriors, yes, but this baby was not born of her womb. She was delicate. Fragile. Not meant for her rugged hands.
But that night, as she sat beside the hearth with little LiuYan curled beside her like a shadow, the baby stirred.
The child had been quiet for hours, her dark eyes taking in the new world around her. Just then, she looked up at Madam Han-
And smiled.
It was the softest, brightest thing — like the first bloom of spring breaking through winter soil. A sudden, brilliant gummy smile so warm it seemed to silence the wind, a tiny sun in the heart of the storm.
Beside her on the mat, a five-year-old Shen LiuYan sat perfectly upright, solemn and alert, her small hands clutching the broken hilt of her mother's divine sword. She watched the infant with a fierce, protective gaze, and then looked at Madam Han.
"She likes you," LiuYan whispered, her voice soft, the words feeling less like an observation and more like a transfer of sacred duty.
She offered the words like a blessing. Like a pact.
Madam Han looked down at the infant and hesitated no longer. She unwrapped the baby, let her settle against her chest — and when LiuHua latched onto her breast, small, warm, and trusting…
…something broke in her heart.
"You're mine now," she whispered to the child, her voice thick with an emotion she thought had died forever. She wrapped her other arm around LiuYan's small, stiff shoulders, pulling her close. "Both of you—"
The warmth of the memory faded, leaving behind the cold reality of the empty room. Madam Han's grip on the silk tightened. A promise made in a storm, broken in the sun. The fabric in her hand was the very same one from that first, happy birthday. The memory of that day bloomed, a riot of color and sound.
The courtyard of Han residence had never been brighter.
The main hall of the Han residence was a symphony of joy. Banners strung between cherry trees fluttered with the wind. Red lanterns swayed from the rafters, and the air was rich with the scent of sweet plum soup and roasted meats. There were no guests, no nobles, no politics. Just the family of two parents and their four kids — together.
It was a day set aside for love.
Shen LiuYan, now Han JiLan, six years old and pretending not to smile, stood in the hall beside her brothers, folding flowers from the rice papers. Han Jiutian, a gangly thirteen-year-old, stood beside his younger sister, JiLan, carefully wrapping a small wooden bird he had carved. Han Yueming, at eleven, was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, his face glowing. He had made a crude wooden whistle and was eagerly waiting for a chance to give it. He had always dreamed of having a little sister, and now he got two.
" Why is she still not here? father, can I go see our baby sister?" little Yueming was getting impatient.
"Your mother will take your little sister with her. Stay still"
Nothing beat the moment when Madam Han walked in holding LiuHua.
The boys instantly fell silent. In her arms was the source of all the celebration, Han XiaoHua, giggling happily, her chubby hands reaching for the bright lanterns. That little ball of sunshine was dressed in a pink silk dress with miniature boots embroidered with peach blossoms.
"Happy Birthday!"
Yueming was the first to shout, and waved the whistle like it was a royal decree. Which made the little one shriek in happiness, reaching out for her brother.
Everyone laughed — even General Han.
They sat her down, a mountain of soft cushions around her, general Han was trying very hard to make the baby laugh, which made madam Han laugh instead. Seeing that the baby started to clap too..
"Well, my mighty general… do you admit that you aren't good with kids now. Don't scare my baby" madam Han said taking Xiao Hua into her arms.
Yueming, being the mischievous little boy he is, started to chant the word 'mom' . He was expecting a reaction from his little sister.
Madam Han, as the very patient mother she is, had to deal with both of her toddlers. One who's the birthday girl and the other a fake toddler who is 11 years old. She held the baby close as she fed her, letting the little one chew on tiny dumplings with clumsy delight. Xiao Hua's cheeks were puffed out like a squirrel's, her eyes dancing with joy, searching for her mother's gaze.
Her tiny hands kept grabbing at the ribbons In her own hair, making Madam Han laugh as she tried to fix them for the fifth time.
All the while no one realized that the little one to be very attentive. In the middle of chewing — she paused. She turned her head, her wide, intelligent eyes finding her mother's smiling face. And then, as simply and casually as breathing, she said it.
"ma-ma…. Ma-ma"
The world stopped. JiLan blinked. Jiutian's jaw dropped. Yueming gasped with delight. Then came the sound of his victory, the ' hooray'. General Han's quiet pride melted into a rare, wide smile. But Madam Han- she froze.
For her the word was not a milestone; it was a resurrection. It was the sound that healed the great, silent wound in her heart. It was the confirmation that she was not just a general, not just a wife, but a mother again.
Her eyes instantly filled with tears. She jumped out of her seat and spun her little baby around. Laughing through her tears.
" Say it again, baby. Say mama- MAMA"
" MA-MA… M-MAMA " little LiuHua screamed with her toddler voice. Shrieking and giggling seeing the laugh of her family, her mother.
It was the first word she had ever spoken. And it was meant only for her.
General Han stood up and cleared his throat. Everyone's eyes were on him when he got close to her little girl and took her into her arms.
" How about dada. Say dada baby. DADA" genera Han kissed her tiny cheeks ever so softly. In return his baby girl also kissed- more like latched her whole face onto general Han's face and said, " d-d-a-da….DA-DA….DADA"
The birthday party turned into a competition to make little Xiao Hua talk to them. It was one of the happiest memories of madam Han.
The memory vanished. The laughter echoed and died, leaving only the oppressive silence of the lamp-lit room. Madam Han was alone again, sitting on the edge of a cold, empty bed. She slowly lifted the small, faded piece of silk to her lips, its texture a ghost of a memory, and whispered the word back into the darkness.
"My baby..