Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 6: Fate in the Palm of the Hand

   …What just happened?

   Everything happened too suddenly. Wuya Qingdai raised her face, the joy still frozen there, only to see two young eunuchs rush forward. Four arms pinned her firmly to the ground. Then the chief eunuch himself removed the embroidered shoe from her right foot, held up the sole for all to see, and presented it before the throne.

Hongli took one glance and sneered coldly. “So the sole was carved into the shape of a lotus.”

Noble Consort Hui beckoned. The chief eunuch hurriedly held the shoe sole up to her. She looked and laughed. “And the sole is filled with fine powder—that’s why it left prints. Quite ingenious, really!”

She was still laughing, but all trace of amusement had vanished from Hongli’s face. He barked sharply:

“Someone—drag her out!”

Only then did Wuya Qingdai snap back to reality. Her knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor. She scrambled forward on hands and knees until she reached the foot of the throne, tears streaming down her face like pear blossoms in rain.

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty! This humble subject merely imitated ‘stepping lotus with every step’ to try to win first place! Please forgive me, Your Majesty—forgive me! Noble Consort Your Highness, save this subject! Empress! Empress, please save this subject!”

Hongli and Noble Consort Hui remained expressionless. Only Empress Fucha sighed softly. She turned her head toward Hongli and said:

“Your Majesty, it is not wrong for a candidate to want to stand out and take the lead. If you do not like it, simply bestow the flower and be done with it. To drive her out of the palace like this—how will she ever show her face in public again?”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” Wuya Qingdai struggled free from the two eunuchs’ hands and threw herself pitifully at Hongli’s feet. “This humble daughter entered the palace for selection. If I am driven out, it will bring shame upon my entire family—how could I ever face the world again! I beg you, I beg you, please have mercy on this humble daughter!”

With that, she prostrated herself on the ground, kowtowing so hard her forehead thudded loudly against the floor. Her posture almost exactly mirrored that of Jixiang earlier—only this time, the one who had refused to let Jixiang go was now herself refused mercy by Hongli.

“I have already issued a clear decree: bound-foot girls from the Han Army banners are prohibited from selection. Yet in this round of inspection, those with bound feet number far more than one or two!” Hongli’s voice was icy and detached. “Not only the Han Army banners—even the Wuya clan has adopted this decadent, extravagant and degenerate custom. Pan Yunu was a demonic consort; Xiao Baojuan was a foolish ruler. Are you now imitating her in order to bring chaos to the court? A woman like this, once inside the palace, will surely stir up endless trouble. Not only will I expel her from the palace, I will also have her father punished for violating regulations—to serve as a warning to others!”

“No—no!” Wuya Qingdai tried to argue further, but two strong arms had already reached from behind her. Like iron clamps, they seized her arms and dragged her toward the door.

“No, Your Majesty! No! This humble daughter knows she was wrong! This humble daughter truly knows her mistake!” Wuya Qingdai struggled desperately like livestock being hauled to the slaughterhouse, wailing heart-rendingly. “That’s right—it was that lowly maid! It was that lowly maid who harmed me! It wasn’t me—the idea to apply fragrant powder to the soles of the shoes wasn’t mine… sob!”

Fearing her loud commotion might disturb the imperial presence, a nearby eunuch stretched out a fan-like hand and clamped it firmly over her mouth. Five thick fingers sealed her voice—and with it, her last chance.

“Mmm… mmmph…”

The muffled sobs gradually faded into the distance. On the ground remained only two strings of lotus-flower imprints, proof that a woman named Wuya Qingdai had once been here.

“Someone, clean the floor thoroughly.” Hongli said coldly. “Just looking at it makes me uncomfortable.”

“Yes!” Several palace maids hurried over with brooms.

And so the very last trace of Wuya Qingdai vanished from the palace just like that.

“Oh my… doesn’t that… look like Sister Wuya?”

In the waiting area of the Imperial Garden, the selection girls were still awaiting their names to be called. A few who had just gone in moments earlier had already come out with bestowed flowers. But after Wuya Qingdai went inside, she had not reappeared for a long time. Everyone felt envious and whispered among themselves, privately speculating that Wuya Qingdai must have already caught the Emperor’s eye.

Who could have expected that when the doors opened again, a disheveled woman with hair in wild disarray was dragged out by two eunuchs.

“How could such a crazy-looking woman be Sister Wuya…” someone retorted.

“But she’s clearly wearing Sister Wuya’s clothes…” another pointed out sharply.

Indeed, the disheveled woman was dressed in Wuya Qingdai’s clothing. Not only that—her earlobes and wrists still bore Wuya Qingdai’s jewelry. If there was any difference from before, it was perhaps her feet: a pair of three-inch bound feet dragged along the ground. The beautiful lotus shoes were nowhere to be seen.

“It hurts… it hurts so much…” the disheveled woman cried. The voice was unmistakably Wuya Qingdai’s. “My feet… my feet…”

Without shoes, the tender flesh suffered. Those snow-white, tiny bound feet dragged across the ground, leaving not elegant lotus prints but two trails of blood instead—winding and twisting behind her like two crimson, deformed snakes.

“You lowly bitch—you ruined me!” Wuya Qingdai suddenly let out a blood-curdling scream. “Even as a ghost, I will never let you go!”

The selection girls were so terrified by the scene that they fell deathly silent. For a long while, no one spoke.

Especially the naturally timid Lu Wanwan, who had already pressed herself against Naran Chuxue, clutching the other girl’s sleeve tightly with both hands. Her voice trembled as she asked, “How terrifying… what exactly did she do wrong for His Majesty to punish her like this?”

Naran Chuxue stared at the bloodstains on the ground, lost in thought for a moment before murmuring, “Could it be… because His Majesty didn’t like her shoes?”

“How could that be?” Lu Wanwan covered her small mouth with her hand, asking in surprise. “Step-by-step lotus—how unique and charming. How could His Majesty possibly dislike it?”

“His Majesty’s preferences—how would newcomers like you and me possibly know?” Naran Chuxue said gravely. “But what about that little palace maid? Does she know?”

“You mean that pretty little palace maid from earlier?” Lu Wanwan seemed to have taken quite a liking to her and instinctively spoke up on her behalf. “She’s just a new palace maid like us. If we don’t know something, how could she possibly know?”

“You’re right.” Naran Chuxue also found it unlikely. If even they, the selection girls, didn’t know such a thing, a newly arrived palace maid certainly couldn’t. It was most likely just Wuya Qingdai’s bad luck—she had simply worn a pair of shoes that happened to disgust the Emperor.

But what if that little palace maid knew?

   “If she knew…” Naran Chuxue thought to herself, “then rather than saying Wuya Qingdai placed the shoe in the palm of her hand, it would be more accurate to say she placed her own life in the palm of her hand—to be toyed with and disposed of as she pleased!”

This possibility sent a chill through Naran Chuxue’s heart. She couldn’t help murmuring, “Speaking of which… what was that little palace maid’s name again?”

…

“Yingluo.”

“What’s wrong?” Wei Yingluo paused her needlework, turned her head, and looked toward Jixiang.

Jixiang hesitated, opening her mouth but saying nothing. At that moment, the door of the Embroidery Workshop in the Workshops Department creaked open. A eunuch in green robes stepped over the threshold and entered. Jixiang hurriedly lowered her head and resumed her stitching.

“Chief Steward Wu.” Momo Zhang, who was in charge of instructing the newly arrived palace maids in needlework, quickly went forward to greet him.

Wu Shulai waved his hand, excusing her from the formalities. “I’ve come to take a look at this year’s new palace maids.”

Momo Zhang obediently stepped back behind him. The two of them walked slowly, one in front of the other, passing behind each of the maids in turn.

Ahem! Wu Shulai suddenly gave a light cough.

Though the sound was soft, quite a few maids immediately pricked their fingers or tilted their needles. They quickly resumed their work, but their movements were noticeably faster than before—all in hopes of leaving a good impression of swift, skillful needlework on Wu Shulai.

The only one who remained unhurried and composed, as always, seemed to be Wei Yingluo.

“At least there’s one who’s steady and mature,” Wu Shulai thought with satisfaction. He stood behind Wei Yingluo with his hands behind his back, nodded approvingly, then stepped over to stand behind Jixiang.

“…And some who still need proper discipline.”

Jixiang’s small face flushed bright red. Even though the weather wasn’t hot, sweat had already beaded at her temples. Gritting her teeth, she sped up her stitching—only to jab the needle straight into her own finger. She let out a small pained cry and quickly popped the injured finger into her mouth.

Wu Shulai shook his head behind her and walked away.

After he left, Jixiang stopped embroidering altogether. She simply sat there with her head lowered, staring blankly.

“…What’s wrong?” Wei Yingluo paused her own work, tilted her head to look, then immediately frowned inwardly. Oh no.

On the embroidery frame in Jixiang’s hands was a half-finished piece. The workmanship was somewhat lacking, but that couldn’t entirely be blamed on her. Her right hand had previously been stepped on by Wuya Qingdai. Although it had been treated afterward, it was still badly swollen and bruised. She couldn’t ask for leave, so she had no choice but to grit her teeth and keep working through the pain.

But now, a patch of bright red blood had stained the snow-white fabric. It was impossible to tell whether she had just pricked her finger and dripped fresh blood onto it, or whether the old wound had reopened and blood had seeped through the bandage.

Either way, this embroidery piece was ruined.

“What… what should I do…” Jixiang’s voice trembled with tears as she reached out to wipe it.

“Jixiang, don’t—” Wei Yingluo’s warning came too late.

What had been only a small, inconspicuous drop of blood was now smeared by her frantic wiping into a glaring, obvious blotch—impossible to hide or disguise.

Also working at the same embroidery frame were two others: Jinxiu and Jixiang’s fellow villager, Linglong.

Jinxiu caught sight of the scene and, true to form, immediately let a mocking remark slip from her thin lips: “Palace maids need to be clever and quick-witted too. Someone as clumsy as you will sooner or later be driven out of the palace. Stop wasting your energy!”

Linglong, at least, still had some sense of fellow-villager loyalty. She looked at Jixiang with sympathy and said, “What a pity.”

“Linglong!” Jixiang’s eyes reddened. With all the childishness still in her voice, she choked out, “We grew up together since we were little. Help me think of something, please?”

Fellow villager or not, when faced with this kind of trouble, Linglong would rather pretend she had no such connection. She immediately refused: “What can I possibly do? I haven’t even finished my own piece yet!”

Jixiang couldn’t help turning her head to look back. In the embroidery workshop stood a sandalwood table, and on the table was a bronze incense burner carved with beast motifs. A single stick of incense had been inserted into it; by now, half had already burned away. When the remaining half turned to ash, it would be time to submit the embroidered pieces.

“What should I do…” Jixiang murmured. The tears she had been holding back finally spilled over. As they fell, she suddenly felt her hands lighten. She turned around just in time to see Wei Yingluo take her embroidery hoop away and hand over her own in exchange.

Jixiang stared in shock. “You…”

“Wipe your tears dry,” Wei Yingluo said without lifting her head after the exchange. “Don’t let the mama see.”

She moved very quickly; not many people had noticed the switch. Jixiang, Jinxiu, and Linglong exchanged stunned glances for a moment before Linglong was the first to speak, her voice lowered:

“Are you insane? That handkerchief was supposed to have a golden carp embroidered on it. With this bloodstain, there’s no way to save it now! There’s only half an incense stick left—there’s no time to start over!”

Wei Yingluo narrowed her eyes and carefully examined the embroidery in her hands for a moment. Then she picked up needle and thread again and gave the anxious Jixiang a faint smile:

“The peony is just two stitches short. Finish it for me, will you?”

“Yingluo, have you really thought this through?” Linglong couldn’t help asking.

Before Wei Yingluo could answer, Jinxiu let out a scornful laugh:

“Why do you care what she does? She’s just showing off!”

Jixiang stared blankly at the embroidery hoop in her hands. Suddenly she shoved it back toward Yingluo, shaking her head frantically:

“Take it back, take it back! I can’t drag you down with me—quick, give me my own hoop back!”

Wei Yingluo gently raised her right hand to block the returning hoop, then tilted her eyes sideways toward one side.

Following her gaze, Jixiang saw the mama heading in their direction. She immediately fell silent, hurriedly picked up the needle, thread, and hoop in front of her.

Then she froze.

The embroidery on the hoop before her was a peony—nation-shaking in its beauty, vivid and lifelike, missing only the final few stitches.

STORY OF YANXI PALACE CHAPTERS HOME