Chapter 118
The next morning, Wakako didn’t come to the training grounds.
Lin Lin assumed the couple had reconciled and were enjoying their sweet time together. She sat with Shen Qianmo, snacking on sunflower seeds while chatting: “See? I was right, wasn’t I? Every month, Senior Wakako takes a day or two off.”
Shen Qianmo remained confused. “But why wouldn’t she come? How did you guess?”
“Well,” Lin Lin replied casually, “She’s married, after all. Gotta spend some time with her wife, right? Can’t just bury herself in work all the time.”
Though young, Shen Qianmo had already been identified as a future Alpha, and took these words to heart, making a mental note: I’ll be good to my wife just like Captain Wakako!
Her gaze shifted to the sunflower seeds in front of Lin Lin. If she wasn’t mistaken, they were from the most popular shop in the capital, with frighteningly expensive prices.
“Weren’t you just docked some of your pay? How did you afford these?”
Lin Lin secretly patted the pocket money Wakako had given her, smiling without answering. When Shen Qianmo pressed further, she just said: “Children shouldn’t pry into adult matters.”
While they were slacking off, Liu Siruo quietly set down her weapon, wiped her hands, and stealthily grabbed a large handful of seeds.
Lin Lin rushed to chase after her: “Senior! These are really expensive! Why are you taking so many?”
However, Liu Siruo was far too nimble for Lin Lin to catch. She effortlessly dodged while continuing to snack.
“When you can catch me, we’ll talk,” Liu Siruo said lightly. “With technique that sloppy, how dare you slack off? Momo, don’t pick up her bad habits.”
Shen Qianmo nodded vigorously.
Lin Lin nearly cried from frustration, flicking her sleeves before storming off to practice on the wooden post.
Though skilled in archery, she was truly hopeless at close combat. Agility, strength, stamina… she lacked it all. She was undeniably at the bottom of the pack among the mercenaries, and Liu Siruo’s words stung.
The more Lin Lin thought about it, the angrier she became. Her fists pounded haphazardly against the wood until her knuckles were red and swollen and her arms ached. Another hand stopped her. “Stop.”
The familiar voice belonged to her current captain.
Using just two fingers, Wakako rendered Lin Lin immobile. She sternly admonished her junior: “Are you trying to cripple yourself?”
Lin Lin hung her head.
“Why are you ignoring the basics? Why aren’t you sparring with someone? Do you think this will help you improve? Lin Lin, you’re not a child anymore. You should know the right way to train.”
Wakako rarely got angry, but when she did, her cold demeanor was enough to instill fear.
“I’m sorry, Senior,” Lin Lin said softly.
“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Wakako said patiently. “You owe it to yourself.”
Among all the formal members of Alpha Squad, Lin Lin’s situation was rather unique. She had exceptional talent in archery, surpassing everyone at the age of fifteen. “Never missing a shot” wasn’t an exaggeration.
Because of her, Wakako, who was most gifted with weapons, had to settle for second place in archery alone.
But Lin Lin fell far below mercenary standards in other areas.
Wakako had observed Lin Lin’s progress since she joined. It wasn’t that she didn’t work hard, just… some things couldn’t be achieved through effort alone.
No matter how much she trained, she remained as thin as a sapling. Forget Liu Siruo, even Shen Qianmo would likely surpass her in a couple of years.
Since she hadn’t presented yet, the squad was somewhat lenient. But if she remained this way after presenting… it could be dangerous.
Lin Lin pressed her lips together, looking down at her fist, clenching and unclenching it.
Her expression was a mixture of complex emotions.
“Do you remember what you told me when you first came here?” Wakako asked, her voice softer now. “You said you didn’t want to live a life where people thought you were worthless. If that’s true, then go wrap your fist properly and train properly.”
She saw the swelling and bruising on her junior’s knuckles but there was no room for softness.
After a moment, Lin Lin grinned: “Senior, out of all the apprentices, you only seem this strict with me.”
“What? Are you complaining?”
“No… thank you, Senior.”
With that, Lin Lin darted off to wrap her fists.
Her words brought Wakako back to over two years ago, when Lin Lin first arrived as an apprentice. The sapling’s stubborn gaze had reminded her of her own days begging on the streets, which was why she always demanded more from her.
While others finished training at sunset and went to eat, she often made Lin Lin practice until dusk, even until it was too dark to see anything.
Wakako wasn’t naturally strict; whether teaching apprentices or the crown princess, she was usually easy-going. She didn’t even understand why she only treated Lin Lin this way.
She recalled a phrase she’d read in a book.
We are hardest on those we love most.
Wakako understood now. Because she saw Lin Lin as family, she was always tougher on her.
For instance, Wakako didn’t care what the apprentices usually did. But when she learned Lin Lin was gambling, she beat her without mercy, making her promise never to do it again.
Her junior quickly returned, her punches no longer chaotic but orderly, each move steady and precise.
Wakako watched her, and for some reason, memories of the Saionji household flooded back.
Back then, the teenage girl had been ice-cold toward her, saying: “If you don’t learn these characters today, don’t come back into the courtyard, and don’t even think about sleeping in my bed!”
“But…”
“No buts. Go and study.”
At that time, Wakako had felt only grievance. She’d frustratedly knocked her head many times, angry at herself for being so stupid. Why could others learn while she couldn’t?
What would she do if Miki abandoned such a hopelessly stupid servant…
Driven by fear and insecurity, Wakako had finally, painstakingly, learned.
Actually, young Wakako had privately complained a little – why did Miki have to be so strict with her?
She wasn’t a noble, she hadn’t had the same advantages in education. She hadn’t even known a single character until she was thirteen. How could she compare to others? Why hold her to such high standards?
But later Wakako understood.
It was those same words: We are hardest on those we love most.
If Miki didn’t care, why would she care whether a lowly servant knew characters or read books? For servants, roughly recognizing their masters’ names was enough – it wouldn’t be useful later anyway.
It was precisely because Miki didn’t want her to remain a servant forever that she had been so harsh, telling her to leave if she didn’t study.
As for Miki’s overflowing possessiveness, her unwillingness to let Wakako look at or touch anyone else… also stemmed from love.
We are hardest on those we love most.
Only now did Wakako truly understand the depth of those words.
She had been confused lately, not because she blamed Miki, but because she didn’t know how to reassure her.
It was impossible to avoid all contact with her squad members. She needed to find a balance between fulfilling her duties as captain and appeasing Miki. It was her responsibility as both a captain and a wife.
But…
Why had Miki become so different before she could find a solution?
If discipline arose from love, did the absence of discipline and jealousy mean love had vanished too?
Beside her, Lin Lin finished a round of practice, took a short break, and drank some water. She didn’t forget to ask Wakako: “Why aren’t you with your wife today?”
She thought they had completely reconciled.
“My wife.” Wakako softly repeated these words, then suddenly said firmly, “Yes, I should be with her today.”
She couldn’t avoid Miki any longer.
They couldn’t continue this cold, distant communication through letters.
Even if she was in the palace discussing matters with the Queen, she would see Miki.
Her words and sudden change in attitude confused Lin Lin, but it wasn’t her place to pry into their relationship.
She could only watch puzzled as Wakako’s figure disappeared like the wind.
***
The temple in the palace had collapsed several days ago, and craftsmen were now working around the clock on urgent repairs.
But the craftsmen all had one question. Shouldn’t the damaged divine statue be restored first? After all, it was the face of God, the most important element.
Why hadn’t the Queen ordered its reconstruction? Instead, she had them meticulously restoring every detail of the shrine, every brick and tile. Wasn’t this putting the cart before the horse?
But the Queen’s orders couldn’t be defied, so the craftsmen could only comply. Perhaps there was some deeper meaning to these instructions.
A craftsman respectfully knocked on the inner chamber’s door. “Lady Kitagawa.”
A cool response: “Enter.”
“The small chamber on the west side is almost finished. When you have time, you can inspect it on behalf of the Queen.”
“I understand.”
The craftsman withdrew.
The Queen had appointed someone to oversee the work – a noble lady from the Jin clan, now married and known as Lady Kitagawa.
The Queen had specifically instructed them to report everything, big or small, to this lady, though they didn’t know why.
It was strange. Everything was strange.
The inner chamber was where the statue had stood. The collapse had been violent, a roof beam crushing the upper part of the statue, obliterating the God’s face, leaving only the lower body intact.
Miki knelt before the ruined statue, her expression unreadable.
Around her lay scattered pieces of gold that had fallen from the statue. Without instructions, no one dared clean them up, leaving them strewn across the floor.
God…
Miki silently mouthed this word.
Humans were inherently insatiable. Even she, who had always prided herself on her detachment, was no exception.
After spending so much effort to escape her role as Saint, finally becoming an ordinary person, she still wasn’t satisfied.
She gazed at the golden fragments, her own reflection shimmering on their surfaces.
What she wanted, even Miki herself wasn’t sure.
She only knew she didn’t want to be the virtuous and generous Lady Kitagawa.
No No one knew how difficult it was for her. She had pinched her thighs until they were bruised, forcing herself to stay here, suppressing her impulses.
But what else could she do…?
If she remained selfish, what if Wakako grew to hate her…
Miki felt her heart was like that seventeen-stringed koto, its strings snapping one by one, with only the last string tethering her here.
Since she had chosen to be Lady Kitagawa, she had to accept everything…
She closed her eyes, silently reciting scriptures, trying to calm herself through methods she knew wouldn’t work, when suddenly a commotion erupted outside.
“Captain, you can’t enter without the Queen’s permission!”
“Move aside.”
“Captain, please leave—”
“I’ll say this once more. Move, or you’ll regret it.”
Miki opened her eyes.
The craftsmen didn’t dare offend the mercenary and quickly retreated. Silence descended once more.
The temple was meant to be a place of silence.
Miki saw Wakako, red-eyed, burst through the door, her gaze fixed on Miki with an expression of complete dejection. The scent of alcohol clung to her, suggesting she had been drinking heavily.
Like a pitiful puppy.
“Why haven’t you come home…” she was trembling. “Are you avoiding me…?”
Wakako’s voice echoed ethereally off the inner chamber walls: “What kind of wife stays away from home night after night?”
Miki stared at her, standing up, not really hearing what the other was saying.
It was all futile.
The moment she saw Wakako, the last string of the seventeen-stringed zither snapped.
