Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 4: The Lotus Flower

Wei Yingluo stole a glance in that direction and felt her eyes brighten—as though around the corner a hidden fragrance had drifted near, and a white lotus in the pond had gently bloomed.

It was a selection girl dressed in white, her features pure and lovely, far surpassing the beauties around her. What was most striking was the fragile, tender air she carried in every glance and gesture—like Xi Shi clutching her heart, evoking pity even from other women.

But this was the rear palace. Women who could calmly appreciate another woman’s beauty were as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns—and the selection girl named Wuya Qingdai standing before them was certainly not one of them.

“Lu Wanwan, shut your mouth!” She whipped her head around and glared. “I didn’t ask you!”

The white-clad selection girl shrank her shoulders, seemingly frightened by her. At that moment, a poised and dignified selection girl beside her tugged at her sleeve and whispered in her ear, “Honestly, getting angry with Sister Wuya over a brainless servant isn’t worth it.”

Lu Wanwan opened her mouth, then swallowed the words back down.

“If you’re going to save someone, save them all the way—what’s this half-hearted effort?” Jinxiu muttered under her breath in complaint.

Wei Yingluo glanced at her. At least Lu Wanwan had managed to say one sentence on Jixiang’s behalf. What more could anyone demand from someone who didn’t even dare stand up and speak a single word?

Seeing Lu Wanwan cowed into silence with just one rebuke, Wuya Qingdai felt even more smug. She turned her gaze back to Jixiang. A flash of viciousness passed through her eyes, but her face wore a sweet smile as she said,

“Tsk tsk, a brand-new palace maid—small wonder she has no manners! Since you’ve dirtied my clothes, you can pay for it with that hand of yours!”

With that, she stomped her foot down hard onto the back of Jixiang’s hand.

A searing pain shot through her. Cold sweat poured from Jixiang like rain; her vision darkened. She couldn’t dodge—she could only lie there on the ground, sobbing and crying out,

“It hurts… it hurts so much! Mercy, my lady! Please have mercy on me!”

Her lady had no intention of showing mercy. Instead, she seemed to find the cries amusing; she actually let out a soft, delighted laugh.

That laughter sent a chill through Jixiang’s heart. For the first time in her life, she truly understood that some people build their happiness on the suffering of others.

“Father… Mother…” In the end she was still just a child. When she was in pain and despair, she couldn’t help calling out to the people closest to her. “Save me… help me… Aunt Fang, Xier, Jinxiu… Yingluo!”

Suddenly, the crushing pain on the back of her hand vanished.

At the same moment, a collective gasp rose all around her.

What had happened…

Jixiang raised her head in confusion, tears blurring her vision. It took several seconds before she could see clearly—and when she did, she couldn’t help but draw in the same shocked breath as everyone else.

Wei Yingluo had somehow knelt down beside her and was now holding one foot in her hand—Wuya Qingdai’s foot.

“Lady Wuya,” Wei Yingluo said with lowered head, her voice respectful, “please lift your honorable foot.”

Wuya Qingdai looked down at her from above, a chilling smile spreading across her face. “A mere little palace maid like you dares to ask me for mercy?”

After saying this, she looked Wei Yingluo up and down. As mentioned before, she had never been a woman capable of appreciating another’s beauty. A flash of jealousy crossed her eyes before she smiled and said:

“Well, that’s not entirely impossible. You come and take her place—how about it?”

“If Little Master wants this servant’s hand, this servant would gladly offer it up with all my heart.” Just when everyone thought Wei Yingluo was doomed, her tone suddenly shifted. “However, today is the day of Little Master’s palace selection—a most auspicious and joyous occasion. It would be improper to add bloodshed and taint Little Master’s good mood and good fortune.”

Wuya Qingdai frowned slightly. From the corner of her eye, she glanced at the other candidates.

She herself was someone who preferred to trip others up in secret, so she naturally assumed everyone else was the same.

Breaking the hands of two little palace maids was a small matter, but she feared someone might report behind her back that she carried the stench of blood on her person—an ill omen of bloodshed and disaster, making her unfit to appear before His Majesty…

Yet simply letting the two of them go felt unsatisfying. So with a cold face she said:

“You certainly have a silver tongue. But now my shoe is dirty, and I’m not happy!”

Wei Yingluo glanced at Jixiang’s hand.

On the back of that plump, fair hand was a dark bruise, branded with the shape of a black lotus. Both petals and center were seeping blood outward.

A chill settled over Wei Yingluo’s heart, yet her expression grew even more respectful and docile. Bowing her head to Wuya Qingdai, she said:

“Little Master is truly ingenious, specially carving the sole of the shoe into the shape of a lotus. It is only a pity that one thing is still missing. This servant ventures to offer her help and relieve Little Master’s burden.”

“Oh?” Wuya Qingdai raised an eyebrow. “And how will you relieve my burden?”

Wei Yingluo untied the sachet at her waist and called out without turning her head:

“Linglong, where is your sachet?”

The palace maid whose name had been called gave a start.

“Give it to me.” As she spoke, Wei Yingluo opened her own sachet and poured the rose-scented powder onto the ground.

Though she had absolutely no desire to step forward at a moment like this, under so many watchful eyes Linglong had no choice but to reluctantly come forward, untie her own sachet, and hand it over.

“Take it.”

Powder of the same color poured together formed a small rose-colored pile on the ground. Wei Yingluo knelt down and lifted both hands in offering:

“Please, Little Master Wuya, raise your foot.”

A soft laugh came from above her head. Then a bloodstained embroidered shoe landed in the center of her clean palms.

Wei Yingluo held Wuya Qingdai’s shoe in both hands. She dipped the empty sachet into the powder and carefully, evenly applied the rose powder to the sole of the shoe, her expression utterly focused, as though she were performing a task of the utmost importance.

“Hm?” Watching her profile, Lu Wanwan let out a small sound of surprise. “Sister Naran, this little palace maid is actually quite pretty.”

The elegant candidate she addressed as “Sister Naran”—the very one who had earlier stopped her from helping Jixiang—was named Naran Chuxue. She gently shook the palace fan in her hand and said coolly:

“So what if she’s pretty? She’s still just a bondservant by birth—a born slave. Her fate is to carry shoes for Sister Wuya.”

“Done.” Wei Yingluo gently set Wuya Qingdai’s foot down and bowed with utmost respect. “Please, Little Master, take a few steps and try it.”

“What exactly are you playing at…” Wuya Qingdai walked a few steps, her face darkening. “If you can’t give me a proper explanation, today I won’t let either of you off. Later on—”

“Ah!” Ignoring Naran Chuxue’s attempt to stop her, Lu Wanwan covered her lips with her fan and chimed in: “Step by step, a lotus blooms—how exquisite! Turn around and look.”

Wuya Qingdai paused in surprise. She turned to look back.

On the bluestone slabs she had just walked across now trailed a winding chain of lotus prints.

At the same moment, Wei Yingluo’s voice sounded beside her ear:

“This servant has read little, but I once heard a storyteller say that the Eastern Hun Marquis, for his most beloved Consort Pan, laid golden lotuses on the ground. Whenever Consort Pan walked upon them, it was as though lotuses sprang up with every step—beautiful beyond words—and thus she enjoyed boundless favor. Today, this humble Yingluo has used a petty trick, pressing rose powder into the sole of the shoe, to wish Little Master that all her wishes come true and that she rises higher with every step!”

Wuya Qingdai glanced at her, then fanned herself and walked back and forth several more times.

One lotus after another bloomed on the bluestone—like white flowers slowly opening in a green lake.

Wuya Qingdai no longer felt any urgency to punish the two little palace maids. All she wanted now was to hurry and let His Majesty see this scene. Any later, who knew whether those vixen-like women might imitate her and scatter rose powder or peony powder all over the floor?

“Alright, alright.” So she waved her hand indifferently and said to Wei Yingluo, who was still kneeling on the ground, “Just for that pathetic, bootlicking look of yours, I’ll spare her life!”

With that, she didn’t linger any longer and hurried away, stepping over the lotus flowers on the ground.

Once she left, there was no more spectacle to watch here. The other selection girls gradually departed one by one. Halfway through, Lu Wanwan turned back and gave Wei Yingluo a kind smile.

Unfortunately, she was standing while Wei Yingluo was kneeling, so Wei Yingluo didn’t see that smile.

Only after the sound of footsteps had faded did Wei Yingluo slowly stand up. She walked over to Jixiang, who was still kneeling on the ground, too afraid to move, and let out a deep sigh. Reaching out, she helped the trembling girl to her feet. “Jixiang, it’s over now.”

“Oh… oh…” Jixiang seemed to still be in shock from what had just happened, responding absently to Wei Yingluo’s words.

“Let me bandage you up simply for now.” Wei Yingluo took out a clean handkerchief and carefully wrapped it around her wound. “I’ll take you to see a doctor later…”

Being treated so gently by her, Jixiang’s heart gradually settled, like duckweed drifting on a lake finally reaching the shore. With tears in her eyes, she replied, “Mm…”

“Jixiang, you really are clumsy!” An untimely voice rang out. It was Jinxiu, who came striding over with her hands on her hips, her thin lips spitting out mocking words. “You almost got all of us in serious trouble!”

“You still have the nerve to say that!” Jixiang puffed out both cheeks. “If you hadn’t pushed me just now, I wouldn’t have made a mistake at all!”

“Enough, enough—stop arguing, both of you!” The senior palace maid scolded them and lectured, “To be retained as palace maids, you all have to pass the broom-holding and embroidery tests. Don’t just rely on your sharp tongues; you need real skill in your hands. Now move!”

Including Wei Yingluo, all the palace maids lowered their heads and replied, “Yes!”

The long line followed behind the senior palace maid, like a school of green fish swimming with the current toward wherever they were meant to go. Halfway along, someone tugged at Wei Yingluo’s sleeve. She turned her head and saw Jixiang glancing around nervously, looking as wary as a little mouse. It was clear the earlier incident had truly frightened her; even now, when she spoke, her voice was lowered several notches, afraid someone might overhear.

“Yingluo!” she said with a childlike innocence and dependence, complaining adorably, “That Wuya clan woman is so awful—how could you help her get selected?”

“Get selected? Her?” Wei Yingluo stopped in her tracks.

Jixiang looked at her in confusion, then followed her gaze.

At some point, they had arrived at the Orchid Courtyard.

Orchids bloomed everywhere, filling the air with rich fragrance, yet Wei Yingluo’s gaze wasn’t on any of the flowers.

What she was looking at was a well.

Jixiang shivered. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but even from such a distance, she could feel a chill drifting out from the mouth of the well—bone-piercingly cold, like the night wind sweeping over a field of scattered graves.

…Perhaps what was truly cold wasn’t the well, but the look in Wei Yingluo’s eyes at that moment.

“…Whether she gets selected or eliminated in the end, only Heaven knows.” Wei Yingluo smiled slightly. That smile melted away the icy darkness in her eyes. She took Jixiang’s hand and continued walking forward. “By the way, Jixiang, when you were crying and calling out to me just now, you reminded me a lot of how I used to be.”

“Hm?” Jixiang was taken aback.

“I used to be just like you—always getting into trouble, unable to handle it myself, so I’d cry and call for my older sister.” Wei Yingluo spoke with her back to Jixiang. “And every time, she would come to save me.”

“Your sister sounds wonderful.” Jixiang replied innocently. “I’m so envious that you had a sister like that.”

“No—it’s me who envies you.” Wei Yingluo’s voice grew softer and softer. “When you call for me, I’ll respond to you. But my sister… she’ll never respond to me again.”

The figure in front of her looked desolate and lonely, like a leaf withered in winter—reluctant in every way, yet helplessly parting from the tree that had once nurtured it.

Just looking at such a back made Jixiang’s heart ache. Unable to hold back, she tightly gripped that cold hand, wanting to warm it, to warm that heart.

“It’s alright now. I’ll stay with you.” Jixiang said softly. “I’ll stay with you… Sister Yingluo.”

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