Zhu Yinghan

What irked Zhu Yinghan most in all her life was being made to feel lesser than another without cause. As fate would have it, she had an elder sister above her. No blood ties between them, yet her sister surpassed her in everything. She refused to accept it, always itching for a contest. Despite anything else, she could not afford to lose in a fight. Yet when blows were truly exchanged, she found herself pinned flat to the ground by her sister, unable to move. The fists came down, and she did not dodge. Not because she could not... she simply would not. She ground her teeth, hauled herself up, spat a mouthful of bloody froth, and kept her chin high as ever. When her sister grew tired of it and withdrew, she went after her instead, seizing the hem of her robe with all her might. "What gives you the right to just walk away!" Later, the two sisters stormed a bandit's den and made themselves rulers of the bandits. Yet still her sister stood above her. The seat of Chief fell to her sister; she was left with the second. The camp's men called her Second-in-Command on their lips, but in their eyes they acknowledged only the First's authority. She could make all the fuss she liked, and no one would take it to heart. She had barely endured until her sister departed when along came Di Cheng, slouching there with all the backbone of a straw. Yet somehow he commanded respect. With a few idle words he got the troublemaking brigands in line, and the men took to this interloper as if he belonged. She swallowed a belly full of anger and made her declaration: henceforth, no one in the camp was to speak the word "second." Every soul was to call her Big Sister, or they could forget any goodwill from her. As for Di Cheng, she had another plan. If she could not best him with words, then she would beat him at the Shuttlecock. One match to settle it all. In the open ground of the Back Mountain, plum blossom stakes stood in rows. Di Cheng leaned against one with a dull expression, gazing vacantly at the sky as though he hadn't a care in the world. "You are too hasty, lass... like a Shuttlecock that cannot fly high. Go and practice some more." The bandits burst into laughter at this, paying their own Chief not the slightest regard. She clenched her fists, her brow knotting tight, yet all at once it struck her that Di Cheng was not entirely wrong. When she was small, she climbed peach trees to steal the prized fruit the old man grew. Slipped, and tumbled down, falling straight into her father's arms. When she was grown and stormed the bandit's den, the chief's blade was at her throat. Before she had time to fear, her sister came flying in with a kick that sent the brigand sprawling. Later, when she took command of the camp and could not hold those wicked men in check, Di Cheng needed only a few airy words to get her out of trouble. Her father's hearty laughter, the sidelong glance her sister cast without thinking, Di Cheng's half-smiling remarks... They were like a pair of hands, always there to catch her steady, just like a Shuttlecock. But she did not wish to be caught. She did not wish to be the feather on the Shuttlecock that was forever shorter than the rest, forever resting in another's palm. She was no Shuttlecock. She was a fireball, and when its flames leapt up, they would burn the hand that held it. On the day of the match, her henchmen raised a high platform, the noise and the drums and gongs sounding loud non-stop. Zhu Yinghan cradled a Shuttlecock in her hand, its feathers red as fire. She flung it up. The Shuttlecock soared high, but before it reached the cloud above her head, it dropped, falling straight toward her face. "Lass, you have gone blank!" Di Cheng's voice reached her faster than the Shuttlecock fell. "Such prattle." She said nothing more. Her foot was already taut, every last bit of her power coiled and ready, her eyes fixed hard upon those flame-red feathers. This time, she would not let it fall.