The Bamboo Princess

In a quiet village bordered by the ancient Bamboo Sea, where trees whispered old secrets and mist hovered year-round, there lived a girl named Lin.

Lin was born on a day when the moon turned crimson and the river ran still. Her mother, a healer, died soon after her birth. Her father remarried a woman from the capital who brought with her two daughters—Li Mei and Xue—who never once saw Lin as a sister.

Lin's stepmother, Madame Gao, was beautiful and proud, with no love for dirt or simplicity. She wore silk in the rice fields and refused to touch chopsticks without jade handles. When Lin’s father died during a storm while traveling for trade, Madame Gao took control of the household—and Lin’s life.

She made Lin sleep in the woodshed behind the house. Lin swept the courtyards, gathered herbs, and cooked their elaborate meals without thanks. Her hands became rough with work, and her eyes quietly alert to cruelty.

But she was not broken.

Every evening, after her chores were done and the Gao women were sleeping, Lin crept into the Bamboo Sea with her lantern and her flute. There, in the hush of moonlight, she played songs her mother once taught her—songs meant to call foxes, charm bamboo spirits, and guide lost souls.

Unbeknownst to Lin, the Bamboo Sea was alive with watchers.

One was a spirit named Ji, guardian of the forest. For decades, he had protected the ancient groves, keeping balance between humans and spirits. But fewer humans remembered the old ways, and even fewer came with music.

When Ji first heard Lin’s flute, he was curious. When he saw her sit alone and play with closed eyes and a peaceful smile, he was moved.

She played not for power, not for praise—but because it made the night less lonely.

Ji watched her for many moons.

---

One day, messengers arrived from the Emperor’s palace.

A grand festival was to be held in the capital in honor of the Crown Prince’s birthday. All maidens of suitable age were invited to attend the Lunar Lantern Ceremony, where the prince would light a sky lantern with the woman of his choosing.

The village buzzed with excitement. Madame Gao nearly fainted with ambition. “Li Mei, you must be chosen,” she declared, ordering bolt after bolt of silk to be brought from the market. “And Xue, practice walking with books on your head!”

“And me?” Lin asked, more out of curiosity than hope.

“You?” Madame Gao laughed, fanning herself. “You’ll be too busy cleaning our sandals after the trip.”

On the morning of departure, the Gao women left in a fine lacquered carriage, their hair heavy with jade pins. Lin, alone once more, wandered into the Bamboo Sea.

She sat on the roots of the Great Tree and played her flute until her breath trembled. “I only wanted to see it,” she whispered, “just once.”

Ji appeared from the mist in his true form—a tall man with silver hair and robes woven of wind and light. Lin gasped, dropping her flute.

“Do not fear,” Ji said, his voice deep and gentle. “You have honored this forest. Tonight, it is time it honors you.”

He tapped the bamboo beside him, and the grove stirred.

Vines wove themselves into silk. Blossoms spun into hairpins. A robe of deep green and gold wrapped around Lin, its embroidery shifting like light on water. On her feet appeared delicate slippers made of pale bamboo fibers.

Finally, Ji gave her a lantern—simple but glowing with a steady inner light.

“Walk straight,” he said, “and the path will open.”

With that, a trail of fireflies appeared, leading Lin through the forest. She walked with awe, her lantern held high. By the time she emerged, she stood just beyond the palace gates.

---

The capital glittered under a full moon. Guests marveled at the lights, the feast, the dancers spinning like wind-blown leaves. The Crown Prince, Wei Shen, stood at the center of it all—bored.

He had met dozens of women—some clever, some lovely, all rehearsed. None seemed real.

Then Lin entered.

There was no grand announcement, no herald, yet all eyes turned to her. She walked softly, like wind in tall grass. Her robe shimmered with forest colors. And in her hands, she carried the glowing lantern.

Wei Shen stepped down from the dais, drawn to her before a word was spoken.

“Where do you come from?” he asked.

“From the edge of the world,” Lin said, “and just beyond your sight.”

He laughed—not at her, but in delight. “Then stay where I can see you.”

They talked, not of courtly things, but of rivers and stars, of favorite flavors of dumplings, and of dreams never spoken aloud.

When the time came to light the lanterns, Wei Shen turned to Lin. “May I light yours?”

But Lin looked up and saw the moon nearing its peak. Ji’s warning echoed in her mind.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t stay.”

She turned and fled, losing one slipper on the steps of the lantern platform. She vanished down an alleyway before anyone could follow.

Wei Shen held the slipper like a promise.

---

The next day, he sent word throughout the land: he would marry the girl whose foot matched the slipper. It was not made of glass or jade, but of rare bamboo—a weave known only to the southern groves.

Madame Gao was quick to summon the search party when they arrived in their village. Li Mei and Xue soaked their feet in ice to shrink them. But the slipper did not fit.

As the guards turned to leave, one of them spotted a bamboo flute resting by the back shed.

“Whose is this?” he asked.

“No one’s!” Madame Gao said quickly. “Garbage!”

But Lin stepped forward. “It’s mine.”

The captain paused. “Try the slipper.”

Madame Gao tried to protest, but Lin already had it on. It fit perfectly. From her sleeve, she pulled the glowing lantern, still burning softly.

Before sunset, Lin was taken to the capital in honor.

---

Wei Shen welcomed her not just as his bride, but as his equal. They married not in the palace but in the Bamboo Sea, beneath the Great Tree, with forest spirits watching in joy.

Lin did not become a queen who sat behind golden screens. She walked among the villages, healed with herbs her mother taught her to find, and brought music back into places it had long been forgotten.

Wei Shen listened, learned, and ruled with compassion. Ji returned to his trees, content.

Madame Gao and her daughters were not punished, but sent to live in the mountains, where they learned to cook, clean, and—eventually—laugh without cruelty.

And on every full moon, the capital released glowing lanterns into the sky.

One always glowed brighter than the rest.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***