Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 31: The Last Embroidery

   No one will cry for someone who means nothing to them.

   At first there were still people discussing Jixiang’s death. A week later, conversations turned to what to eat for dinner that evening, or how handsome some young guard was—yet no one spoke of Jixiang anymore.

Even when someone occasionally mentioned her, it was only with six short words:

“Oh, that silly little daring thief…”

Those six words became the epitaph of an innocent girl, the final memory she left in the hearts of the living.

A fleeting passerby in this hurried life—

To whom could she speak of all her hardships?

“Yingluo!” Momo Zhang hurled a garment straight at her. It struck Wei Yingluo squarely in the face. “What is wrong with this clothing! The stitching, the color matching—everything is wrong! How on earth are you working?!”

Everyone stopped their needlework and stared in astonishment at the scene.

Momo Zhang rarely lost her temper like this—especially not toward Wei Yingluo, her favorite. Just what on earth had she done to the garment?

“I’m sorry, Momo.” Wei Yingluo’s face was already red and swollen from the slap. She hurriedly clutched the clothing to her chest as if terrified someone might see it, then bowed her head dejectedly. “I’ll fix it right away…”

“What kind of satin do you think this is, that you can just rip it apart and start over? Yingluo, you have truly disappointed me!” Momo Zhang berated her mercilessly, then let out a heavy sigh. “We all know you’re due to report to Changchun Palace at the end of the month. This is your last assignment in the embroidery workshop…”

And also the best one.

The embroiderer originally in charge of the Emperor’s everyday robes had fallen ill and couldn’t finish the work in time, so someone was needed to help complete the remaining tasks.

The garment was already more than halfway done; only the dragon pattern on the chest remained.

This job was both light and prestigious. Afterward, whoever did it could proudly tell others, “I once embroidered a dragon robe for the Emperor.” Even years later, after growing old and leaving the palace, that credential alone could secure a good position—whether entering the Jiangnan Weaving Bureau as an embroiderer or teaching embroidery to the daughters of wealthy families. It would raise her value considerably.

“Momo,” Linglong spoke up calmly, “perhaps because of what happened to Jixiang, Yingluo has been rather listless lately and made a mistake in a moment of distraction. Please be magnanimous and don’t hold it against her. Otherwise… why not let me take over this task?”

“You?” Momo Zhang gave her a measuring look up and down. “Are you up to it? Embroidering a dragon is not the same as embroidering a little cat…”

Laughter rippled from all directions. Linglong’s fingers, hidden inside her sleeves, clenched tightly; her sharp nails dug straight into her palm.

“Everyday robes don’t require as much effort as dragon robes or court robes. Besides, my embroidery skills have improved greatly—I’m certainly capable.” Her peripheral vision swept over Wei Yingluo, who stood nearby looking absent-minded. A thought flashed through Linglong’s mind and she suddenly said, “How about this: let me compete with Yingluo?”

“Oh?” Wei Yingluo slowly turned her face toward her. In just seven short days she had visibly lost a whole circle of weight. The baby-fat cheeks she once had were now sharp and gaunt; dark shadows lay beneath her eyes. She looked utterly exhausted. Gazing at Linglong, she gave a faint, ghostly smile. “How do you want to compete?”

In the past, Linglong would never have dared suggest such a thing.

But today was different. Just look at what Wei Yingluo had embroidered!

Perhaps the shock of Jixiang’s death had hit her too hard, causing her to turn a dragon into… a snake. And even calling it a snake was generous. To Linglong’s eyes, it was clearly a twisted earthworm. Even a child just starting embroidery could do better. How could something like that possibly be presented to the Emperor to wear? It was laughable beyond words.

An opportunity this perfect to step on someone and climb up—how could Linglong possibly let it pass? She immediately declared with full confidence:

“The quality of the embroidery will speak for itself. The two of us will each embroider a complete set of everyday robes at the same time. Then Momo can choose: whoever does better gets to have hers presented to the Emperor. Do you dare?”

Wei Yingluo stared at her for a long moment before letting out a soft, mocking laugh that was neither quite a smile nor a sneer.

“Fine. You asked for this.”

Their gazes met in midair like the clash of blades—sparks flying, murderous intent rising.

Linglong withdrew her eyes and lowered her head to look at the embroidery frame in her hands. In her heart she vowed:

“Just wait. I will prove it to you—prove it to all of you—that I’m not doomed to embroider cats forever. I can embroider dragons too!”

For this competition, Linglong poured out every ounce of her energy.

She rose before dawn each day. While others were still sound asleep, she was already dressed and heading to the embroidery workshop. For meals she wolfed down her food in three or four hurried bites while everyone else ate slowly and carefully; sometimes she barely drank any water at all, just to avoid wasting time going to the latrine.

“Linglong is really going all out.”

“But the problem is—Yingluo is working even harder than she is.”

After a long, exhausting day, Linglong dragged her weary body back to the maids’ quarters, only to overhear those words. She paused, then looked around and frowned.

“Yingluo… hasn’t come back yet?”

Inside the quarters, copper basins steamed with hot water. Some maids were scooping water to wash their faces; others soaked their snow-white feet in the basins. A few of the quicker ones had already finished washing and were now lying comfortably on their beds, chatting idly.

“You mean Yingluo? I passed by the embroidery workshop earlier and saw her still working inside,” answered one of the maids who was currently soaking her feet.

“Ah, it’s so late, and she’s still at it.” Another palace maid exclaimed in surprise.

“After all, it’s work for the Yangxin Hall,” the previous palace maid said as she wiped her feet, curling her lip. “The things we usually do are just spring clothes for the servants of the various palaces, or at most the consorts’ garments. When have we ever touched work meant for Yangxin Hall? Only the most experienced embroideresses are allowed to take on those. She’s dead set on beating Linglong!”

The door creaked open with a bang. Both of them turned to look and let out a startled “Ah— Yingluo, you’re back.”

Wei Yingluo stood at the doorway holding a garment, folded with extreme neatness so that no one could see what was embroidered on it. Linglong’s heart stirred. She stepped forward and said, “Yingluo, how’s your embroidery coming along? Bring it over and let everyone have a look.”

As she spoke, she unceremoniously reached out her hand.

Wei Yingluo sidestepped, avoiding her grasp.

Linglong’s movement froze. Her face filled with grievance as she said, “I’m not trying to steal it. I just want to look… Are you really that afraid of me?”

“Afraid of you?” Wei Yingluo suddenly burst into giggles, as though she had heard the funniest joke in the world. She laughed until Linglong’s face flushed red with embarrassment before finally shaking her head and giving her a glance that seemed half pitying, half contemptuous. “You really think too highly of yourself. Everyone in the embroidery workshop knows… you only know how to embroider cats.”

Hehe.

Someone couldn’t help but let out a stifled laugh.

Linglong whipped her head around, only to see a group of palace maids either bowing their heads to wash their feet or spreading bedding. Clearly no one was looking at her, yet she felt as though every pair of eyes was secretly mocking her.

I’m not! Linglong screamed inwardly. I can embroider dragons too! I’m not doomed to only embroider cats forever!

   “If that’s not the case, then why don’t you take out your embroidery and let everyone… let me have a look.” A slender, graceful hand extended toward her. Wei Yingluo smiled at her. “Let’s see whether what you’ve embroidered is a pair of dragon eyes… or a pair of cat eyes.”

“Wei Yingluo!” Linglong could bear it no longer. She spoke word by word: “I’m warning you—stop humiliating me!”

“Am I wrong?” Wei Yingluo’s attitude was even firmer than hers. She sneered, “When painting a dragon, the eyes are the finishing touch. The dragon’s eyes must possess both spirit and form. Can you—embroider that?”

When words don’t agree, even half a sentence is too much. In the end the two parted on bad terms. After the candles were extinguished, they slept with their backs to each other.

But Linglong simply couldn’t fall asleep.

After tossing and turning for a while, she could no longer restrain herself. She untied the blue cloth bundle kept on the inner side of the bed and took out the nearly finished ordinary robe.

Under the moonlight, she shook it open—and for some reason, perhaps because of what Wei Yingluo had said earlier, the more she looked at it, the more wrong it felt.

“How could this be…” Linglong stared down at the dragon embroidered on the chest of the robe. The fingers gripping the fabric tightened more and more. “Why… do you look so much like a cat?”

A golden dragon—yet it had a pair of cat eyes.

A pair of lifelike cat eyes, filled with desperate eagerness to please, hoping others would like it, admire it, acknowledge its talent.

This wasn’t a dragon. It was the cat in her own heart.

Linglong stared motionlessly at those eyes. Suddenly she crumpled the garment with great force, as though trying to crush something she couldn’t bear to look at into fragments.

Her chest rose and fell unevenly for a moment. Then, breathing unsteadily, she called out softly:

“Yingluo.”

The room was perfectly silent, filled only with long, even breathing.

Linglong called a few more times in a low voice. When no one answered, she quietly slipped out of bed and tiptoed over to Wei Yingluo’s bedside.

In the pitch-black night where one couldn’t see one’s own hand, a pair of cat-like eyes stared fixedly at Wei Yingluo lying on the bed.

Then, a hand quietly reached toward the ordinary robe she had tucked under her pillow.

Taking without asking—a thief’s behavior.

This wasn’t Linglong’s first time stealing. The first time was the peacock feather threads; the second was the everyday robe. Once you’ve done it, twice comes easily. Compared to the nervous anxiety of the first theft, now Linglong felt only calm inside—almost as if it were perfectly natural.

It was like taking back something that rightfully belonged to her, reclaiming the life that should have been hers.

Once the everyday robe was in her hands, Linglong retreated to her own bed, then eagerly unfolded it to look. She couldn’t help but let out a mocking “ha.”

“Jixiang, look—she doesn’t care about you that much either.” Linglong laughed, her voice laced with both jealousy and scorn. “Just a few days ago she was so upset over your situation that she made a ton of mistakes. Now that she has a chance to stand out in front of Noble Lady, she’s forgotten you completely in the blink of an eye and thrown herself heart and soul into this.”

If she weren’t completely focused, how could she have embroidered such a majestic and awe-inspiring golden dragon?

Graceful as a startled swan, sinuous as a swimming dragon—especially those two dragon eyes, as if gazing down imperiously from the clouds, surveying all living beings.

Mortals and commoners alike must bow their heads and submit beneath that gaze.

“This is what real dragon eyes look like.” Linglong cradled the garment in her hands and murmured to herself, “These are my dragon eyes…”

She didn’t sleep a wink all night.

The next day, the palace maids in the quarters gradually got up one after another.

“Huh?” One maid suddenly let out a sound of surprise. “Where’s Linglong?”

Linglong’s bed was empty. The person next to her reached over and touched the quilt—it was ice-cold, not a trace of warmth left on the bed.

“Huh?” At the same moment, outside the embroidery workshop, Momo Zhang looked with some surprise at the person sitting on the steps. “Why are you here so early today?”

As if she hadn’t slept at all and had sat through the entire night until dawn, Linglong’s clothes and hair were covered in the morning dew.

Her body was cold, but her heart was burning hot.

“Momo.” Linglong lifted her face, flushed slightly from excitement, and smiled. “My garment is finished.”

She handed over the robe she had been clutching tightly to her chest. It was unmistakably—the everyday robe that had been stolen from beneath Wei Yingluo’s pillow.

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