Liu Chuyu

In the corridors of Chinese history, Liu Chuyu was born a Princess to the Liu Song dynasty around the middle of the 3rd century. Famous for demanding equal marital rights to her brother, she was gifted a harem of 30 male concubines. 

However, Liu Chuyu was pre arranged a marriage with a specific husband. This eventually led to the fateful day of January 2, 466 in which she was ordered to suicide by the imperial court.

The following flash fiction depicts her willingness to die for her autonomy and refusal to bow down to the oppressive royalty of ancient China. It is set as she executes upon the order, and ultimately succumbs to her own demise.

“I’ve always wondered how a princess could squander her life.” The wooden bars of the imperial prison faced my stare as I began to understand the words of my brother—the crown prince. As the ragged white robes sprawl amidst the cold and roughly tiled flooring, I look up and think back on the 30 men whom I’ve demanded. Each one of the harem breathed into me a thorn and each kiss cut an artery to my heart. All but one. Only he took the time to breathe through my mouth, blood—that gave me life. Feeling anything like being alive it was he who gave it to me. And if the knife that was held up against my neck was the path that led from his tongue, then a fine life I have lived; I wouldn’t dare say the word ‘squandered’ if I were to reflect. For it would dirty the name of him. I would rather draw blood than the arranged marriage the crown prince had made for me. And like so, it felt warm. Truly, I say, like a red bead amidst the thin sheet of snow, I painted with the blood flowing down the nape of my neck. The sting bloomed into pain. My breath hitched, regret started to claw in. Still, the knife lodged itself deeper into my neck. My eyes began to water—and in the blur of tears saw him in a mirage. Kneeling to my height, to where his eyes planted itself squarely into mine, “Liu Chuyu.” He spoke so steadfast—as if the sight of my bloody neck was expected, and thus the tears broke free, my chest filled and washed away the hesitation. And I let the stream of blood consume me, as my hand broke free the knife from my grip, it dropped to the ground where no soul was there to hear. I lay in a picture of white robes pooled with blood—”a princess, who squandered her life” they said. Yet the cold tiled flooring filled with the warm words of life. 

Sima, Qian. Song Shu [Book of Song]. Vol. 8, Yongguang 1st Year, 11th Month, Jiwei Day (永光元年十一月己未). Translated interpretation.