Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 20: The Informant

   “Sister Zhilan.”

Zhilan turned and saw a woman approaching with a flirtatious, swaying gait. Such an appearance and figure might easily win favor in a brothel or the inner quarters of a wealthy merchant’s household, but on a servant in the palace it looked far from proper—likely to draw annoyance if one wasn’t careful.

“You are?” Zhilan gave her a cool, sweeping glance.

“I’m a palace maid from the embroidery workshop—Jinxiu.” Jinxiu hurriedly introduced herself, lifting both hands to present a tray on which lay a neatly folded green garment. “Momo Zhang sent me to deliver the newly finished spring clothing.”

“Oh.” Zhilan nodded. “Just set it down.”

But Jinxiu was unwilling to leave so easily. She placed the tray down with deliberate slowness, all the while speaking in a fawning tone: “It’s the same palace uniform for everyone, yet when it’s worn by you, sister, it looks completely different. Look how beautifully the flowers are embroidered at the cuffs—one glance and anyone can tell you’re someone with skillful hands.”

Zhilan smiled faintly. Although everyone wore the same style of palace attire, a closer look revealed subtle differences. The more capable and higher-ranking senior maids would have additional embroidery added to their cuffs and collars, with varying degrees of finesse. The one she wore now was adorned with peach blossoms in bud—not stitched by her own hand, but ordered from one of the little maids in the embroidery workshop.

What was her name again? It seemed to be… Yingluo?

“…even more skillful than Yingluo, the best embroiderer we have over there.” Jinxiu continued with a smile. “Speaking of Yingluo, not only does she have embroidery skills that rival heaven itself, she’s also extremely clever. If it hadn’t been for her last time, none of us would have known there were so many details to loquat paste!”

Zhilan had already grown tired of her and was about to wave her away when she suddenly turned her head sharply. “What did you say? Loquat paste?”

“Yes.” Jinxiu put on an innocent expression. “Last time in Yonghe Palace, Yingluo mentioned that when she was little she once accidentally ate loquat leaves, and that’s how we learned the new leaves are poisonous and can’t be used in medicine. Why, is something wrong?”

Zhilan slammed her right hand down hard on the table, gritting her teeth. “So that’s how it is—it was her!”

“Sister Zhilan, did… did I say something wrong?” Jinxiu pretended to lower her head timidly, her voice quavering, while inwardly she sneered again and again.

That little wretch Wei Yingluo—on the surface she acted so pure and lofty, forbidding her from seducing Fucha Fuheng, yet behind her back she was hooking up with a guard herself.

Unfortunately she had notified Aunt Fang too late and failed to catch the adulterer in the act. But no matter—she still held other leverage in her hand. By borrowing Noble Consort Hui’s power, she could surely remove this eyesore from her path.

“Lead the way.” Zhilan stood up. “Take me to find this Wei Yingluo.”

“Yes, Sister Zhilan.” Jinxiu replied promptly.

The two walked one behind the other toward the embroidery workshop. When they arrived, a crowd was already gathered around Wei Yingluo—some staring in admiration, others with entranced expressions.

“This rosy-cloud embroidery is so beautiful. I’m going to embroider one myself later.”

“Hah, don’t end up trying to draw a tiger and winding up with something that looks like a dog instead.”

“I used to embroider rosy clouds too, but the ones I made always came out looking like patches of floating mist. Yingluo, how exactly do you do it?”

“This is the full-embroidery technique. The colors graduate smoothly, the layers are distinct—beautiful to look at, yes, but it takes ten years of practice under the stage lights to achieve. If you want to produce something of the same quality, without a decade of work, it’s impossible.”

A pair of embroidered shoes stepped up behind Wei Yingluo, followed by a burst of laughter. “Indeed, very well done.”

Wei Yingluo paused her needle, turned to look at the newcomer, then hurriedly rose and curtsied. “Sister Zhilan.”

The other palace maids also rushed to bow to this favored attendant of Noble Consort Hui. Even Momo Zhang—the eldest present—stood up, not daring to remain seated in Zhilan’s presence. Her tone was extremely polite as she asked:

“Zhilan, what brings you here? Is it that the spring garments we sent over were not to your liking? There was no need for you to come in person—just send a palace maid with a message, and I would have gone straight to Chuxiu Palace at once.”

“I was originally quite satisfied,” Zhilan replied with a smile, “but after seeing this cloud-and-rosy-sky design, I’m no longer pleased.” Her gaze shifted to Wei Yingluo. “This little palace maid’s embroidery is exceptionally fine. Let her come with me for a moment.”

Many of the maids cast envious glances toward Wei Yingluo. Only Wei Yingluo herself and Momo Zhang felt their hearts sink with a sudden thud.

If the master truly had some instruction, a single sentence would suffice. What matter could possibly require someone to come in person? Most likely, this trip spelled misfortune rather than fortune.

Momo Zhang wanted to protect Wei Yingluo and forced a smile. “Zhilan, isn’t that a bit improper? This girl is still my assistant and hasn’t finished her apprenticeship yet. How about… let me embroider for you instead!”

For the head mammy of an entire embroidery workshop to personally offer to embroider garments for a mere palace maid was already an enormous act of humility and flattery. Yet Zhilan didn’t buy it at all. She scoffed with icy disdain.

“Momo Zhang, don’t play word games with me here. I named the person I want, and that’s who it will be. I won’t have you picking and choosing, swapping this one for that one! Wei Yingluo—follow me!”

The malice in her words was unmistakable to everyone present. All at once, the envy in their eyes vanished, replaced by looks of sympathy or schadenfreude as they stared at Wei Yingluo.

“…Yes.” With no other choice, Wei Yingluo could only steel herself and agree.

Once she and Zhilan had left, the embroidery workshop immediately erupted into chaos. Even though Momo Zhang kept scolding them, she couldn’t stop the little palace maids from whispering furtively among themselves.

“What’s going on? Did Wei Yingluo offend Sister Zhilan somehow?”

“They’ve barely met a few times—how could she have offended her?”

“But… but Sister Zhilan looked like she came here to settle a score.”

Of course she had come to settle a score.

In a side hall of Chuxiu Palace, Wei Yingluo knelt on the ice-cold floor.

She had already been kneeling for a long time. The chill seeped through her knees and burrowed straight into her bones. The room was deathly silent, broken only occasionally by the faint sound of a spoon stirring soup.

Noble Consort Hui sat in a chair. On the red sandalwood tea table beside her rested a bowl of lotus-root-flour dumplings.

The soup was snow-white; the dumplings were pitch-black, as though molded from mud. Black and white contrasted sharply—the black seeming even blacker, the white even whiter—like a landscape painting in ink. But after sitting so long, the dish had gone completely cold, without a trace of steam left.

Deciding that the show of power had gone on long enough, Noble Consort Hui finally set down her spoon and asked slowly and deliberately:

“You are Wei Yingluo?”

“YES!! YOUR LADYSHIP!!” A thunderous shout nearly caused the spoon in her hand to clatter to the floor.

In all her years as Noble Consort, Hui had never encountered anyone who dared shout like that in her presence. She raised a hand to her chest… though in truth she wanted to soothe her still-ringing ears.

“Why are you yelling so loudly?”

Wei Yingluo looked up with a grin. When she had first entered and immediately knelt, Noble Consort Hui hadn’t gotten a proper look at her face. Now that she did, she saw drool still hanging from the corner of the girl’s mouth—apparently she had taken the opportunity to nap a little while kneeling.

“Sorry, Your Highness Noble Consort.” Raising a hand to wipe the drool from her mouth, Wei Yingluo gave a silly laugh. “This servant has always had a loud voice. Momo has beaten me many times for it, but I just can’t change!”

In the palace, whether standing or sitting, everything must follow strict rules—especially for the palace maids who serve the noble ladies. Even the posture for sleeping has its proper form. A foolish girl like her, who could fall asleep while kneeling, was bound to receive ten times more beatings than anyone else.

Noble Consort Hui looked at her suspiciously. “Was it you who said the new leaves of the loquat are poisonous?”

“Yes, they’re poisonous—you can’t eat them!” Wei Yingluo nodded frantically. “Why is Your Ladyship asking about this? Ah—could it be that you want to eat loquat paste? In that case, you absolutely must not eat the seeds, and don’t touch the new leaves either—they’re both toxic! When I was little, I was too greedy and accidentally ate too much. I vomited and had diarrhea so badly I nearly died! Last time, the lady from Yonghe Palace also wanted some, but I managed to stop her—just in time! Oh, and there’s more, there’s more…”

She rattled on and on in a torrent of words, and it looked like she had no intention of stopping. Her voice was so loud that she sounded like dozens of ducks quacking at once, making Noble Consort Hui’s temples throb incessantly.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Noble Consort Hui finally had to cut her off. “What is all this nonsense? Disjointed, incoherent, completely incomprehensible! You’ve been in the palace this long and you still don’t even know how to properly answer your mistress?”

Wei Yingluo nodded, then hurriedly shook her head. Her gaze wandered aimlessly before finally settling—unfortunately, it settled in exactly the wrong place: on the bowl of lotus-root-flour dumplings sitting beside Noble Consort Hui.

“Your Ladyship…” Seeing her swallowing repeatedly, even Zhilan could no longer stand it. She leaned close to Noble Consort Hui’s ear and whispered softly, “This girl… she seems a bit dim-witted…”

Do you think I can’t see what you can? Noble Consort Hui beckoned with her finger. “Come here.”

Wei Yingluo let out an “Oh,” but apparently failed to understand that this meant she should stand up. She remained on her knees and shuffled forward on them all the way to Noble Consort Hui’s feet. The sight of her groveling like a lowly dog nearly made Noble Consort Hui burst out laughing.

“Do you know what this is?” Noble Consort Hui asked, dangling the blue-and-white porcelain bowl in front of her like someone teasing a dog, swinging it left and right.

Wei Yingluo’s head followed the bowl’s movements left and right. She said stupidly, “Are these tangyuan? But why are they black? This servant has never seen black tangyuan before!”

“Poor child—have you really never eaten lotus-root-flour dumplings?” Noble Consort Hui smiled. “Here, they’re yours. Take them and eat.”

She handed the bowl to Wei Yingluo—but gave her no spoon.

“Thank you for the reward, Your Ladyship!” Wei Yingluo took the bowl with an expression of pure delight. Without waiting for a spoon, she simply lifted it to her lips and drank straight from it. The few dumplings that clung stubbornly to the bottom and refused to slide out, she dug out with her fingers and stuffed into her mouth.

“Is it good?” Noble Consort Hui asked kindly.

But anyone who truly knew her understood just how much malice lay hidden beneath that gentle tone.

“Good,” Wei Yingluo replied with a simple, honest grin.

She had never met this person before and could not yet fathom her temperament—but that did not stop Noble Consort Hui from using her own methods to discipline and test her.

“If it’s good, then eat more.” Noble Consort Hui waved her hand. “Zhilan—”

One after another, bowls were carried into Chuxiu Palace.

Blue-and-white porcelain bowls, colored lacquer bowls, fine white porcelain bowls… Though the bowls differed, what they contained was the same: each one filled to the brim with plump, perfectly rounded lotus-root-flour dumplings.

“Eat,” Noble Consort Hui said, reclining lazily in her chair and smiling at Wei Yingluo. “Finish them all before you leave.”

Half the bowls on the floor were already empty, yet more and more kept arriving from outside. Wei Yingluo’s belly was visibly bulging, yet she continued to devour them without pause, gulping and swallowing like someone who would never know the meaning of “full.”

Like a goldfish that doesn’t understand satiety: as long as someone keeps feeding it, it will literally eat itself to death.

Burp.

“Your Highness Noble Consort, you’re truly so kind—you don’t even despise this servant for being greedy!” Wei Yingluo lifted another blue-and-white bowl. Burp. “So delicious… This servant, this servant… urk…”

Some of what she had swallowed was already leaking from the corners of her mouth, yet she seemed completely oblivious, panting heavily as she gulped down the soup still in the bowl.

No Noble Lady in the palace had ever witnessed such a revolting scene. Noble Consort Hui wrinkled her brow, letting out a sneer that mixed disgust with contempt:

“She really is an idiot! I’m tired—get her out of here at once. Just looking at her is an eyesore!”

Zhilan also found it disgusting and didn’t even want to touch Wei Yingluo with her hands. She simply stretched out her foot and nudged her. “That’s enough. Stop eating already. The consort has ordered you to leave!”

Wei Yingluo suddenly sucked in a big mouthful of the soup. Only when Zhilan kicked her again did she pitifully turn her head, mouth still full, speaking indistinctly: “But this servant hasn’t finished eating yet!”

Her gaze fell on the bowl in Wei Yingluo’s hands. Zhilan felt as though even the bowl had become tainted just by being near her. Frowning, she said, “Take the bowl with you!”

“Really?” Wei Yingluo’s eyes lit up.

“Get lost—now!”

Wei Yingluo hurriedly dumped all the remaining lotus-root-flour dumplings into the same bowl, then clutched it to her chest and ran off.

“This… what kind of person is this?!” Watching her keep turning back again and again, as if terrified that someone might change their mind and demand the dumplings back, Zhilan couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time. When she returned and recounted the incident to Noble Consort Hui, even the consort couldn’t help showing a similarly dumbfounded, half-amused, half-exasperated expression.

“Next time, ask the Imperial Household Department just what kind of people they’re recruiting!” Noble Consort Hui shook her head as though trying to shake some nauseating image out of her mind. “This is simply an idiot!”

Zhilan had been about to agree, but suddenly she remembered the magnificent sunrise-cloud embroidery she had seen when she first stepped into the embroidery workshop.

A vast expanse of rosy clouds stretching across the sky—among ten thousand people, perhaps not even one could possess such extraordinary skill. Could something like that really be embroidered by an idiot?

Noticing her hesitation, Noble Consort Hui asked, “What is it?”

After hesitating for a long moment, Zhilan finally voiced her true thoughts: “Your Highness… do you think… perhaps she’s only pretending to be stupid?”

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