Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 34: Young Master

   The first task Wei Yingluo was given upon arriving at Changchun Palace was sweeping.

It seemed someone greatly feared she might surpass them and win the Empress’s favor. Thus, the chores assigned to her were always the hardest and most tiring—and kept her farthest from the Empress.

“Anyway, the Empress only finds her novel for the moment. Give it ten days or half a month, and she’ll probably forget this person even exists.”

Overhearing these words from Ming Yu by chance, Wei Yingluo merely furrowed her brows slightly and said nothing.

If Ming Yu told her to sweep, then she swept—not only her own assigned area, but sometimes other people’s as well. Today was no different. Amid the mocking laughter of others, she swept alone near the main gate of Changchun Palace.

The advantage of frequently sweeping in such a place was that she could encounter a certain person—and be noticed by that person—without arousing anyone’s suspicion.

“Lord Fucha, you’ve arrived.” Ming Yu hurried forward with a smile. “This servant will go report to Her Highness at once!”

Fucha Fuheng stepped through the gate. Today he still wore his martial attire, yet the single tear-shaped mole beneath the corner of his eye lent him an air of refined, aristocratic elegance—like a young nobleman who carried poetry in one hand and wine in the other, whose horse’s hooves crushed the flowers of Luoyang; or perhaps a wandering swordsman dancing beneath the moon on the shores of West Lake.

As the Emperor’s favored minister and the Empress’s own younger brother, he enjoyed the privilege of entering and leaving Changchun Palace freely. Noticing the unfamiliar face now standing at the gate, he glanced over a few times.

His gaze dropped and settled on the old jade pendant hanging at her waist.

“…Lord Fucha?” Ming Yu’s eyes darted back and forth between him and Wei Yingluo. “What’s the matter? Her Highness is waiting for you inside.”

Fucha Fuheng came back to himself and gave her a small smile. “I’ll be right there.”

He took the lead and walked through the gate. Ming Yu shot Wei Yingluo a vicious glare before hurrying to catch up.

Watching the two of them depart, Wei Yingluo continued sweeping the fallen petals with calm, unhurried strokes of her broom. When the time came, the flowers that were meant to fall would fall; the person who was meant to come would come.

She did not have to wait long.

Before the small mound piled high with fallen flowers, a pair of men’s boots suddenly appeared.

The corner of Wei Yingluo’s lips curved upward. She slowly raised her head. A gust of wind swept past in an instant, sending a wisp of light, fluttering hair across her cheek along with an extremely pale white blossom. Smiling at the man standing before her, she said, “Fucha Guard, what brings you here?”

Fucha Fuheng stood in front of her, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the jade pendant at her waist.

Wei Yingluo unfastened the jade pendant, held it in her hand, and extended it slightly closer to him.

“What’s the matter with this jade pendant?”

Fucha Fuheng reflexively reached out to take it, but Wei Yingluo swiftly withdrew her hand.

“This jade pendant is the one I lost,” Fucha Fuheng replied helplessly.

“Oh?” Wei Yingluo looked at him with suspicion. “When and where did you lose it?”

“The time… I can’t quite remember clearly. It was probably… in the Imperial Garden.” Fucha Fuheng answered vaguely. “Please return it to me.”

“If you can’t even say when or where, how can I just hand it over so casually?” Wei Yingluo shook her head with a smile.

Fucha Fuheng pressed his lips together, looking deeply troubled.

A man as strikingly handsome as he was, once he showed such an expression, nine out of ten women in the world would find it impossible to refuse any request he made.

Unfortunately, Wei Yingluo was the iron-hearted tenth.

Seeing that the woman before him remained unmoved, Fucha Fuheng could only sigh and say, “The jade pendant has my name engraved on it. Besides that, there’s a small crack in the lower right corner—I accidentally dropped it and broke it. You can check for yourself.”

Wei Yingluo lowered her head to look at the jade pendant in her hand.

In truth, there was no need to inspect it. She already knew everything he said was correct.

Countless nights, countless days, countless nightmares—she had stared down at the name on the jade pendant, her fingers tracing and retracing the crack over and over.

How she wished this jade pendant could speak and answer her one question:

“Was this left behind by the real murderer?!”

   Wei Yingluo raised her head again. Inside, hatred and suspicion warred fiercely, yet her face betrayed none of it. Instead, her smile grew even sweeter and more captivating, like a flower exuding the fragrance of honey.

“Hold out your hand.”

Fucha Fuheng was momentarily stunned, then extended his right hand.

Wei Yingluo placed the jade pendant in his palm. Deliberately—or perhaps not—her soft fingertips brushed lightly against the center of his palm like a dragonfly skimming water, then gave a gentle, cat-like scratch.

Fucha Fuheng’s right hand trembled. The jade pendant nearly slipped from his grasp. In his haste to catch it, he quickly closed his fingers—accidentally enclosing Wei Yingluo’s small hand within them as well.

The man’s large hand completely enveloped the woman’s small one. The calluses left from years of gripping a sword pressed against the calluses formed from years of embroidery.

“Sorry!” Fucha Fuheng hastily released her hand and took several quick steps backward. The tips of his ears visibly flushed a faint red.

Wei Yingluo was also startled at first. She stepped back a few paces, shook her head, and said, “It’s all right, Young Master.”

That form of address made Fucha Fuheng raise an eyebrow.

“Young Master?”

“Her Majesty the Empress is my mistress. You are her brother, which naturally makes you my Young Master!” Wei Yingluo pronounced the words clearly—especially the two syllables of “Young Master.”

When spoken by a beauty as delicate and lovely as she was, any words from her lips sounded three parts more charming—let alone the soft, melodious way she said “Young Master.”

Fucha Fuheng met her smile, then quickly averted his gaze, leaving only one side of his now-crimson ear facing her. In a low voice he said, “Don’t smile at a man like that. It’s very improper.”

Wei Yingluo was taken aback.

She had originally thought he would be susceptible to such tactics.

Yet she hadn’t expected that this man’s temperament ran contrary to his appearance. He looked like a seasoned flower among blossoms, a dissolute young noble—yet upon closer interaction, she discovered he seemed remarkably inexperienced in these matters.

With a cold laugh in her heart, Wei Yingluo said to herself: “Who knows if it’s all an act—just like the me standing in front of him.”

“There are matters at the Imperial Guard that require my attention. I’ll take my leave. Thank you for helping me recover the jade pendant.” Fucha Fuheng turned and departed. It would be more accurate to say he fled in panic than that he had urgent business.

Wei Yingluo gazed at his retreating figure, her expression shifting unpredictably, until a cold female voice rang out from behind her: “Yingluo, you have some nerve!”

Turning around, she saw Ming Yu standing not far away, her face full of anger. “In broad daylight, you dare to seduce Fucha Guard!”

Wei Yingluo had no idea how long the other woman had been standing there or how much she had seen. She gave a probing smile. “Not only in broad daylight, but right in front of everyone’s eyes. With you watching, I didn’t even dare say more than a single extra sentence to Fucha Guard—where would I get the courage to seduce him?”

“You still dare talk back!” Ming Yu raised her hand. “I heard with my own ears—you called him ‘Young Master.’ What is your status, and what is his? How dare you use such indecent words to tease him?”

So that was all she had seen and heard…

Wei Yingluo’s heart immediately settled. Since the other woman held no real leverage over her, she had no intention of meekly accepting a slap for nothing. She swiftly caught Ming Yu’s wrist and smiled. “Sister Ming Yu, if I truly did something wrong, you may report it to Her Majesty the Empress. But if it’s for no reason at all, forgive me—I cannot accept such a lesson!”

Ming Yu clearly did not want to make a big scene out of it.

Or rather, she was even less willing to let Wei Yingluo get anywhere near the Empress.

“Fine, very fine. A mere little palace maid dares to talk back at every turn. Do you really think Changchun Palace is your own home and that you’re the master here?” Ming Yu flung her hand away and sneered as she ordered, “It seems you don’t have enough work to keep you busy, so you have time to let your mind wander and forget your place—go! Clean the entire main hall from top to bottom! I will come to inspect it later. If there is even the tiniest speck of dirt, I’ll have your hide!”

If earlier she had still been somewhat discreet, from this day onward Ming Yu began openly targeting Wei Yingluo without any pretense.

The most bitter tasks were assigned to her; the most exhausting labor was given to her. And after she finished, Ming Yu would nitpick—finding even a single drop of dust in a window crack meant Wei Yingluo had to wipe down the entire Changchun Palace all over again.

Even the other senior palace maid, Erqing, could no longer stand to watch. She found an opportunity to speak to Ming Yu: “You shouldn’t go too far. If she can’t endure it and complains to Her Majesty the Empress, it won’t look good for you either.”

“Do you think I’ll give her that chance?” Ming Yu laughed.

If before she had merely kept Wei Yingluo away, preventing her from meeting or speaking with the Empress, things were different now. Whenever she found an opportunity, Ming Yu would go before the Empress and badmouth Wei Yingluo.

“Master, the water for washing your face is ready.”

In the room, a bright mirror lay flat as a still lake. In its reflection, the Empress frowned slightly. “Ming Yu, why is it you bringing the water? Where is Yingluo?”

Ming Yu set the copper basin filled with hot water on the table. The water rippled faintly as she sighed. “Who knows where she’s run off to slack? If I hadn’t come ahead of time to check, Master wouldn’t even have had water to wash with!”

The Empress’s brows furrowed even tighter. “Is she really that lazy?”

“Exactly. She doesn’t know how to do anything properly—only her mouth is sharp.” Ming Yu dipped the handkerchief into the basin to wet it, her lips never stopping. “Last time I only said a couple of words to her, and she dared to give me attitude! Master, how can someone like that be allowed to remain in Changchun Palace!”

Words can be fearsome.

Once or twice, the Empress could treat them as mere passing remarks. But after many repetitions, preconceptions inevitably took root in her heart.

“Erqing, what do you think?” Partial listening leads to darkness. The Empress was not so credulous as to believe everything she was told, so she looked into the mirror and asked, “Is Yingluo really so deplorable?”

The fingers combing her hair paused for a moment.

In the part of the room the mirror could not reach, Ming Yu kept shooting urgent glances toward Erqing.

Erqing glanced at her. She didn’t want to offend her, but she also didn’t want to kick someone when they were down. After weighing her words carefully, she said, “Perhaps she just isn’t quite used to life in Changchun Palace yet. There’s still some friction when getting along with the older maids.”

“If that’s really the case, then tomorrow morning; have her return to the embroidery workshop.” The Empress spoke with a tone of disappointment mixed with frustration, like iron that refused to become steel. “Wait—did I just hear thunder outside?”

A startling clap of thunder ripped across the sky, flashing the entire world white for an instant.

The Empress sprang up from her chair, not even bothering to fix her hair, and rushed straight toward the door. “My flowers! My jasmine!”

“Master! Master, slow down!” Erqing and Ming Yu hurriedly chased after her.

The rain came suddenly and grew heavier by the moment. As the Empress and her attendants hurried along the path, fallen leaves littered the ground in countless numbers, forming a long green river under their feet.

“Quick, bring the oiled cloth! Cover the flowers!” The Empress was frantic with worry. But when she rushed into the flower garden, she suddenly froze.

Under the pouring rain, Yingluo—wearing a straw rain cape—was struggling to pull the oiled cloth over the plants. She had already managed to cover most of the jasmine flowers.

“…Your Majesty.” Hearing voices, she turned her face. Rain had washed her fair, delicate cheeks clean and pale; she looked like a jasmine blooming softly in the garden. Smiling, she said, “Why have you come?”

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