The True Daughter of the General's Household

Untitled Part 4

I still wanted to return to the meat stall.
The people of the General's Mansion tried to stop me, but my mother sighed and said, "Let her go. Xiaowan isn't used to this yet."
She probably thought I was still upset with her.

Years ago, when she was heavily pregnant with me, she'd followed my father, the general, into battle. As they escorted civilians to safety, she suddenly went into labor.
In the midst of an improvised human wall, I was born.

There were several other pregnant women among the refugees, and a few babies were born within those same two days. Out of kindness, my mother gathered everyone together, with the General's staff helping to care for us.
But amidst a sudden enemy attack, in the chaos, I was swapped with another baby.

Whether I was truly swapped by accident, or if the people who took me abandoned me on purpose, is unknown.
To be honest, I don't dwell on the past.

My mother, a young maiden back then, took up butchery to raise me. She always says that the greatest priority is to survive, regardless of what anyone else thinks.
I came to the General's Mansion simply to see the life I might have lived.
Now that I've seen it, I have no regrets.

Everyone seeks their own path, whether inside or outside these gates.
The General's Mansion has its good and bad, just as my butcher mother and I have our own joys and sorrows.
This life of luxury, though, is not something I can get used to.

Yet, I didn't turn down the grand carriage of the General's Mansion.
When it reached the modest alleys of the east side of the city, I stepped out and sent the carriage back.
At the entrance of the alley, I saw a familiar figure, standing there, lost in thought.

The night had swallowed the daylight, leaving her as the only faint light, shining gently in the darkness.
For as long as I can remember, she would stay by my side until I fell asleep, then continue working on what she hadn't finished during the day.

As I grew older, I became her little helper, calling out to customers, chopping, and even fighting off stray dogs that lurked around the stall.
In our household, bones were never thrown to the dogs—they were boiled into soup for me.

Whenever I made mistakes, she would lightly scold me, then pull me into a big hug and kiss my forehead.
She is my only mother in this world; how could I ever leave her?

I walked quietly toward her, and she only noticed when I was close.
"You silly girl! You're back—were you trying to scare me to death?"

I pouted. "Just say you missed me. Why be so fierce?"

She reached up, patting my head and face. Her hands, rough and calloused, were as gentle as the evening breeze.

I remembered how, when I was eight, I almost got taken by a stranger because I couldn't resist a candied hawthorn skewer.
She'd chased us down, wielding a heavy cleaver, and ran through several streets before finally catching up.
That day, she'd looked like a wild force, hair disheveled, eyes blazing, cleaver swinging with fierce precision. The kidnapper was so terrified he wet his pants.

From that day on, everyone in the east city knew I was my butcher mother's precious child, her bottom line. Anyone with bad intentions knew she'd fight them to the end.

When we got home, she didn't scold me. She just hid in a corner, wincing in pain. Only then did I notice her hands were bloody and raw.
I cried even harder than she did.

Since then, I still caused trouble, but I learned to keep myself safe.
I may not be her flesh and blood, but I am her life.

"Mom, I'm hungry."

She pretended to scold, "Are you shameless? The General's Mansion has all that good food, and it wasn't enough?"

I replied playfully, "No matter how much they have, it'll never taste as good as yours."
She poked my forehead gently.

"As if I don't know you.
"The dragon bone soup has been simmering for a while now, just waiting for you to come back."