By entering previously unknown stories of Empress In-Yo into the official record of the Singing Hills abbey, Chih introduces questions about whose stories are recorded in history and who decides which stories are worth recording—questions that lie at the very heart of the narrative. Vo’s choice to tell In-Yo’s story from the perspective of Rabbit, her formerly enslaved companion, and have it recorded by Chih, a nonbinary cleric, places the power of the historic record in the hands of the marginalized rather than the oppressor. She also chooses to advance the narrative through growing trust and solidarity rather than acts of aggression, dominance, or conquest.

Within the world of the narrative, Vo establishes the power that In-Yo had over how her story was recorded—evidence of the agency and autonomy she claimed for herself as she moved from a place of subjugation and erasure to extreme visibility and political power. The events of the novella are incited by In-Yo’s death, which results in the “declassification” of an abundance of information related to her life. During her lifetime, In-Yo carefully controlled and curated the information about her life in the public record to protect her newly established government and shore up her own political power. In Chapter 8, Chih explicitly identifies the value that In-Yo placed on controlling her own story, pointing to the previous emperor’s suppression and historic erasure of marginalized peoples through the exile of the realm’s historians: 

[In-Yo] had brought the clerics of Singing hills back from their exile beyond the borders of Anh, and she personally gifted them a gorgeous ivory and brass aviary to nest the next generation of neixin. Then she had shut off every record of herself before her ascension, every place she had lived between her banishment from court and her return six years later. The clerics of the Singing Hills never liked gaps in their knowledge, but in return for their lands and their restored place in Anh, they had let it go (61).

In-Yo leveraged her political power and the wealth associated with it to exert complete control over how her story was told to the general public and future generations. 

In contrast to In-Yo, Rabbit is not born into wealth or power. Her own account of her origin story emphasizes the ways in which she was treated as property, both by her own people and by the emperor to whom she was sold. She tells Chih, “[W]hen I was only five, the county sent me along with one hundred san of birch water, thirty young goats, and fifty caskets of orange dye to the capital” (22-23). In-Yo’s death and the arrival of Chih allow Rabbit the freedom to finally enter her own story into the permanent record. During her life, In-Yo’s political agenda kept Rabbit hidden from the official history, despite the close relationship between the two women. By the time In-Yo dies, at the end of a successful reign with an heir to rule in her place, the power of the empress is less precarious, and Rabbit feels less compelled to maintain her silence. Rabbit’s decision to tell Chih her story represents a radical act of historical revision, an assertion of her own existence and impact in shaping Anh’s history.