After seeing the Emperor upon her return to the Capital, Lin returned to her home in the outskirts. She had taken care of loose ends after her negotiation with Chun Wai, making sure to release him and a few of his important subordinates from the boobytrapped city only after their armies had gone three whole days’ progress back into the desert. Although she had no guarantee that he would keep his word to retreat back to the border, she knew that she had made an impact on him. Sometimes, an impact was enough. The Kong knew to be more careful before making more excursions in the future.

They had lost five cities, but for now, the Yang was safe.

The Emperor had rewarded her greatly for her exploits, granting her the position of Grand Chancellor, second in command to the entire kingdom. It was a lot more than she had expected. At first, she had thought he’d made a mistake.

“There is no mistake,” the Emperor had said. “You were able to do what the old Grand Chancellor had not been able to. That makes you all the more fit for the job.”

“You only knew of my presence a few months ago,” she had replied. “Why do you trust me to do the job well?”

“You risked your life by sneaking into my chambers to tell me about the Kong, then again by facing their armies in a city filled with gunpowder. If that does not show your resolve and your love for this kingdom, then I don’t know what does.”

And so Grand Chancellor she became. How far she had come in just a few months, she mused to herself as she once more sat before the Tapestry of Fate. The shine of the crimson threads was just as she had left it, except perhaps, with a bit more girth to them. Two of the five remaining threads had already begun to weave themselves into the Tapestry. She stepped on the pedals quickly to finish the job.

The Emperor will be lazy and incompetent, overly trusting in women.

The Kong kingdom will invade and leave with five cities, but will return in a year for another invasion.

She hummed as she pushed the bar on her loom, weaving the two stray threads into place. She only had three strands left, and then she would be free.

The waters of the Changjiang will flow backwards and flood the capital.

An army will advance from the south.

The Yang kingdom will fall.

The smile fell from her face.

She stared at the three threads hanging loose between her fingers. There would be a flood, an army, and the fall of the kingdom. Not to mention the invasion within the year. No matter what General Xie had told her about the neutrality of Fate, all of them seemed to be inherently bad things. With the Kong kingdom’s thread already woven, she had a year-long time limit to put things right. How could she turn all this into something good? Was it even possible? She thought and rolled the threads and thought some more.

“Why the sour look?” Speak of the devil. General Xie appeared, as soundlessly as he always had. “You scored a brilliant victory.”

“Yes, but I don’t know how to proceed next,” she murmured, staring at the threads. “I can’t twist any of this.”

“There are limits to what the regular human can do.” he said gently. “In the end, Fate is still Fate. Inevitable, unchangeable. You have already done more than enough to service your homeland.”

“I know, but…”

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She fell silent.

“If it distresses you, you can always go back to doing what your ancestors have done,” General Xie suggested. “Watch and observe, and weave the Threads of Fate. Your duty does not entail creating a good outcome.”

“But I want to,” said Lin.

But why? She couldn’t help but question herself. Why did she want to create a good outcome? General Xie was right. While she was a Weaver of Fate, her duty never entailed trying to tip the scales towards the positive. All she had to do was to watch and witness.

Yet despite knowing this, there was a burning determination within her heart. It blazed like a bonfire that couldn’t be put out by a few splashes of hardship. She found herself perplexed by her own resolve. It would be so much easier to just let go. She stared out at the figure of the Imperial Palace through the window, and her mind began to drift.

That same figure had stood unmoving throughout her childhood. Every time she looked out the window, she could count on it to be there. No matter rain or shine, there it would stand, golden and glorious as always.

She remembered when her mother had first hoisted her up to see the Palace through the window, when she was merely a toddler. Then, she had looked at the glint of the sunlight reflecting off the crimson paint and polished bamboo roofs, and felt entranced.

“I’ll become a princess when I grow up!” she’d announced. “Then I can live in the pretty Palace every day!”

“You can’t become a princess, silly girl,” her mother had returned wearily, so burdened by the weight of Fate upon her shoulders that she hadn’t had the heart to entertain the fantasies of children. “We are commoners. We weren’t fated for royalty.”

“Then I’ll become an official! And then I can work in the Palace instead.”

“You can’t do that either, Little Lin. An official is a job only for boys. You were born a girl. You weren’t fated for that path.”

“Then what am I fated for?”

“Sitting at home. Weaving Fate. Until the day you finish all your threads.”

“Can’t I do more?”

“No, Little Lin. There are boundaries to our roles,” her mother’s tired voice rang out in her mind. “It is impossible to go beyond them.”

Lin shook her head, smiling mournfully at the memory. How would Mother react if she saw her right now? Not only had she, a commoner and a girl, become an official, but the Grand Chancellor, the right hand of the Emperor.

Her mind returning to the present, General Xie stood waiting for her answer, slowly waving his bamboo fan through the air. On his face was a weary look, similar to that of her mother’s, but different. Less the look of one who had broken down under the weight of Fate, more of one who had watched countless others break down and waste away. She could tell. He did not believe she could twist Fate to create the happy ending she desired.

She wanted to prove him wrong. To prove everyone wrong.

“All my life, I’ve been told what I can or cannot do,” she muttered, half to General Xie and half to herself. “That the things I wanted were impossible. That I should conserve my strength, so I don’t end up burning myself out.”

“And they may be right,” said General Xie. “There are only so many things one woman can do.”

Lin ran her fingers over the glowing threads of the Tapestry.

“But still… I want to keep running. Till I burn my spark out. To see how far I can go by my strength alone.”

“I want to create a shining legacy,” she turned away from her loom to stare determined into his eyes. “One where the Yang kingdom, and its people, get to live long and prosper.”

“That’s an ideal vision,” remarked General Xie.

“I know it will be difficult,” she replied. “But I’m still going to try.”

“As you wish,” sighed General Xie as his visage crumbled, slowly fading into nothingness. She watched him go, her resolve growing all the more. The bonfire in her heart flared into a roaring wall of flame.

Slowly, she pulled two of the threads free from their tangles and wove them into the Tapestry.

She would fulfil both her wish and her duty. No matter the cost, she would find a way.