Chapter Forty-One: My Son, You Have Suffered Because of Me

Wei Qingwan had been struggling for quite some time, yet the bow in her hands barely bent, and the arrow she had nocked slipped to the ground, shaken loose by her trembling fingers.

Wei Yichen, picking up the fallen arrow for her, tried to comfort her, “Don’t worry, Wanwan. Archery is difficult, and Father’s bows are all rather stiff. It’s perfectly normal that you can’t draw it. When I first tried, I was about the same as you.”

“I’ll try again,” Wei Qingwan said, setting her jaw as she readied the bow once more.

This time, she summoned even more strength, but a soft cry escaped her lips, and the bow and arrow dropped to the ground again.

“Wanwan, what’s wrong?” Wei Yichen hurriedly checked her hand.

Wei Mingting, who had been instructing Wei Ruo a short distance away, heard the commotion and came over, his eyes full of concern as he examined her.

“I’m fine,” Wei Qingwan said, a note of self-reproach in her voice. “It’s just that I’m useless—I couldn’t draw the bow and now the string’s cut my fingers.”

Wei Yichen spread open her hand. The fingers she’d used to pull the string were marked with a deep red welt. Though her skin wasn’t broken, against her fair and delicate complexion, the mark was striking.

Wei Mingting frowned and turned to Wei Yichen. “Yichen, go fetch some medicine for Wanwan’s hand.”

“Alright, I’ll go right away.” Wei Yichen hurried off to find a salve.

Madam Yun and Wei Yilin soon arrived, both worried and anxious at the sight of Wei Qingwan’s injury.

“Wanwan, come, let Mother see. How did this happen? Don’t practice archery anymore—your hands aren’t meant for such things,” Madam Yun insisted.

“Yes, Sister, let’s play something else, shall we?” Wei Yilin chimed in.

“I’m sorry…it’s my fault…” Wei Qingwan hung her head in shame.

“Nonsense, this has nothing to do with being capable or not. Riding and archery are not meant for girls anyway,” Madam Yun said.

“Don’t worry, Sister. Once I master riding and archery, I’ll protect you!” Wei Yilin declared, thumping his chest.

Wei Qingwan’s eyes reddened. “Thank you, Yilin.”

She then turned to Wei Mingting and Madam Yun, apologizing, “I’m sorry, Father, Mother. I’m fine, truly. I didn’t mean to worry you. I am an unfilial daughter.”

“It’s only natural for parents to worry about their children. How could that be unfilial?” Madam Yun replied.

Wei Mingting nodded in agreement with his wife.

“Alright, no more tears. Come, rest in the carriage with Mother for a while,” Madam Yun said, taking Wei Qingwan away.

Wei Yilin followed close behind, like a little bodyguard.

After Wei Qingwan left, Wei Mingting returned to Wei Ruo’s side. Suddenly, something occurred to him and he glanced at Wei Ruo’s right hand.

He noticed that her fingers, the ones she used to draw the string, were also marked with bright red welts. Because Wei Ruo had drawn the bow far more times than Wei Qingwan, the marks were even more numerous and pronounced.

“Ruor, stop practicing for now,” Wei Mingting called out.

Once she’d set down her bow, he asked, “Your hand’s covered in welts—why didn’t you tell me?”

Wei Ruo glanced at her hand and replied calmly, “The skin isn’t broken. It’s nothing.”

To her, such marks didn’t even count as injuries.

Her words only deepened the furrow in Wei Mingting’s brow, his expression grave. For him, these were indeed minor injuries, but it was different for girls—his daughters had been raised gently and could not compare to himself. He had always thought it perfectly normal for someone like Wanwan to be so delicate.

After a moment’s silence, he said, “Ruor, I’ve made you suffer.”

Wei Ruo looked up at him, but quickly averted her gaze, staring off toward the distant target.

For a fleeting moment, she wanted to tell him that she hadn’t found life in the countryside hard at all. There, she’d had family, friends, and her own way of living.

But she refrained, knowing the Wei family disliked such talk. In their eyes, bringing her back to be a young lady of the household and to live a life of privilege was the best they could offer her.

To divert the topic, Wei Ruo asked, “Do all bows require such strength? Isn’t there something lighter—like a crossbow that can be operated with one hand?”

“There is. Using a crossbow doesn’t require as much strength, and won’t hurt your hand. Would you like to try one?” Wei Mingting asked.

Wei Ruo shook her head. “No, I was just curious. Why do soldiers mostly use bows rather than crossbows?”

“Because crossbows are slower to reload. In the same amount of time, a skilled archer can shoot three arrows for every one bolt a crossbowman can fire. In battle, the intensity of firepower is crucial,” Wei Mingting explained.

“I see,” Wei Ruo mused.

Noticing her interest in bows and crossbows, Wei Mingting had a servant fetch a crossbow for demonstration.

He handed it to Wei Ruo. “Here, take a look. This crossbow can only be loaded with one bolt at a time. After firing, reloading takes considerably longer.”

Wei Ruo took it, aimed at the target, and fired a shot. Under Wei Mingting’s guidance, she loaded a second bolt and found the process indeed much slower.

For a novice like her, loading a crossbow and drawing a bow were similarly time-consuming. But for someone as experienced as Wei Mingting, drawing and firing arrows was much faster than reloading a crossbow.

Wei Ruo looked thoughtfully at the crossbow in her hands.

“What are you thinking about?” Wei Mingting asked, curious.

“I was just thinking—if only this crossbow could be loaded with many bolts at once, it would be quite formidable,” she said absently, turning the weapon over in her hands.

“That’s an interesting idea,” Wei Mingting remarked, glancing at the sky. “It’s getting late. We should head home.”

As dusk approached, Wei Mingting ended the day’s outing and led his family back to the mansion. The journey home was peaceful, and they all arrived safely at the Wei residence.

Before parting from Wei Ruo at the gate, Wei Mingting reminded her, “Today was your first time riding and shooting. You’ll likely feel sore tomorrow, so get some rest tonight.”

“I will.”

Not long after returning to Pine Pavilion, Wei Ruo received a medicinal bath packet from Cui Ping. Wei Mingting had instructed Madam Yun, who had then tasked Cui Ping with delivering it.

Because of his military service, there was always medicine kept at home, and this bath packet was usually reserved for Wei Mingting himself. Wei Ruo opened it, examined the contents, and took a sniff; it was indeed a formula for soothing the muscles and promoting circulation. Though the recipe had some flaws, it was still effective.

She had originally intended to prepare her own herbal bath, but since Wei Mingting had sent one over, she decided not to fuss and simply used what had been provided.

That evening, she soaked in a hot medicated bath, letting her muscles relax.

She had expected to wake sore and achy the next morning, but when she rose, she realized the pain was not just in her back and waist—some of the sore spots were rather embarrassing indeed!