Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 33: Snowy Vengeance

   The prison cell of the Department of Careful Punishments.

   Two filthy hands clutched the wooden bars. In a pitiful voice, the prisoner begged the guard outside: “Big brother guard, could you… could you possibly give me a basin of water? Just so I can wipe myself down. I haven’t… I haven’t cleaned my body in seven days already.”

Not bathing for several days was bad enough, but the most terrifying thing was that this place was infested with lice. The itching was unbearable. When she slapped at them, her palm came away sticky and disgusting—black and red mixed together: crushed lice corpses and her own blood.

Linglong felt she might go mad before any execution sentence was even carried out.

“Water… give me some water…” Linglong lowered her head, her voice trembling with a hint of tears.

A faint rustling sound approached from far to near.

Finally, a pair of shoes stopped right outside the bars—snow-white uppers without a speck of dust, cleaner even than her own hands. Linglong slowly raised her eyes along those shoes:

“…Wei Yingluo!”

Wei Yingluo stood beyond the bars, looking down at her with an ambiguous half-smile that wasn’t quite a smile.

“You actually dare to come see me, you lowly woman!” Linglong thrust both hands through the gaps between the bars like a vengeful ghost collecting a debt, desperately trying to grab at Wei Yingluo outside.

Wei Yingluo lightly stepped back, evading her blackened fingertips.

“To get permission to come in and see you, I had to spend a full two taels of silver.” Wei Yingluo slowly crouched down. With an expression that made Linglong’s skin crawl, her eyes gleaming, she stared fixedly at her. “Of course I had to look—look properly, look carefully, look in detail…”

A chill ran down Linglong’s back. Her lips trembled as she asked: “I have no enmity with you. Why did you frame me like this?”

“No enmity?” Wei Yingluo actually laughed at her words, her shoulders shaking. “Then where do you place Jixiang? Linglong, everything is your own doing. I was still wondering how best to lure you into the trap, but before I even brought it up, you yourself suggested the competition. Very good—excellent… Linglong, I understand you too well. You’re consumed by jealousy, yet you have no real talent. You were bound to lose this contest, but you would never accept defeat. In the end, you were certain to steal the ordinary robe I had already finished—”

She didn’t need to finish the rest; Linglong could already guess what came next.

Wei Yingluo had secretly sewn a single silver needle into the collar. It was hard to notice under normal circumstances, but once the Emperor put it on and moved, the needle would shift and prick him.

Sooner or later, the Emperor—wounded by the needle—would fly into a rage and send people to investigate.

“…I know you and Jixiang were like sisters, but you can’t just frame an innocent person like me because of her!” Linglong could only cry out in aggrieved tones, trying to win sympathy with her tears. “She was beaten to death by Chief Steward Wu for stealing! What does that have to do with me?”

“Do you take me for a fool?” Wei Yingluo laughed. “Why would Jixiang steal from me? And why, the moment Chief Steward Wu came to investigate, was the item found on her person? And how did you know it was on her? That day… was her birthday. I think you must have used the excuse of celebrating her birthday to give her an embroidered sachet containing the planted evidence as a ‘birthday gift,’ didn’t you?”

Linglong stared at her in horror.

She was right. Every single word, every single step—she had guessed correctly.

It was as if she had personally witnessed the entire sequence of events.

Linglong had always known Wei Yingluo was clever, but she never imagined she could be this clever. She had known Wei Yingluo would take revenge, but she never expected the revenge to come so quickly, so ruthlessly.

“Yingluo…” Linglong crawled forward on the ground, stretching one hand through the bars until it touched Wei Yingluo’s leg. She adopted the posture of a fawning, begging cat.

“Save it. I don’t fall for that.” Wei Yingluo was still smiling, but there wasn’t the slightest trace of amusement in her eyes. “No matter how much you beg me, I will never let you go. Your tears only make me happy. Only when you bleed will Jixiang’s spirit be properly avenged.”

Linglong stared at her carefully for a moment. Her expression gradually changed—from pitiful and fragile to wildly distorted. Suddenly, she burst into manic laughter, laughing so hard she sat down on the ground, looking utterly fearless and smug:

“That’s right, it was me! I stole the things, and I’m the one who caused Jixiang’s death! So what? There’s just one extra needle in the garment—what’s the big deal? At worst they’ll call it a momentary lapse and give me a few dozen strokes of the board.”

“A few dozen strokes, exile to Ningguta, never to return to the capital.” Wei Yingluo said slowly, her voice calm and drawn out.

Linglong froze. “What did you say?”

“Your sentence has already been decided.” Wei Yingluo repeated with a smile. “Eighty strokes of the heavy rod, exile to Ningguta, banished from the capital forever.”

Linglong’s face drained of color bit by bit until not a trace of blood remained; she was as pale as a ghost.

“Eighty strokes—you might just manage to survive them if you grit your teeth. But Ningguta is the land where the Great Qing banishes its criminals. The climate there is extreme: in April the wild winds cut like knives; from May to July the endless cold rain pierces to the bone; in August heavy snow falls without end; by September a thousand miles are sealed in ice, snow blanketing everything—not a place that resembles the human world. You might endure the beating, but you’ll spend the rest of your life doing hard labor in purgatory.” Wei Yingluo slowly stood up, turned her back, and let her long, lingering words trail behind her. “Unable to live, unable to die—this is what you deserve.”

“Come back! Wei Yingluo, come back! You can’t leave! Someone—stop her! She’s the real culprit—I’m the one who’s been wronged!” Linglong desperately tried to squeeze herself through the gaps in the railing. One hand stretched out straight, only to fall limply in the end. Beneath her disheveled long hair came the sound of broken, sobbing cries.

Wild winds like knives, bone-chilling rain, swirling blizzards, a thousand miles of ice—did she really have to endure all of that with her own body?

   Even if she could endure it, what then? Beyond the natural disasters, there were human evils.

   The place was filled with the most vicious and ruthless criminals. A defenseless, unsupported young woman like her—once there, she would become nothing but tender prey in their eyes. Anyone who felt hungry could take a bite.

   “I’m not going to Ningguta.” Linglong’s voice came out like a sleep-talker’s murmur from deep in her throat. “I’d rather die than go to Ningguta…”

In that instant, a scene suddenly flashed before her eyes.

In the scene there was a steaming bowl of long-life noodles, and a tiny Jixiang with innocent, wide eyes.

“Good, I swear to heaven right here.” Linglong pressed three fingers together and pointed to the sky. “If I ever harbor the slightest ill intention toward you, toward Wei Yingluo, may heaven punish me by making me smash my head against a wall and die a miserable death!”

   Ha! Linglong almost laughed until tears came out. So this damned heaven really did have eyes!

After laughing like a madwoman for a while, Linglong suddenly turned and looked at the grayish-white wall beside her. An extremely twisted smile contorted her face:

“Wei Yingluo, don’t think everything will always go your way. I may not get to choose how I live—but can’t I at least choose how I die?”

Linglong smashed herself against the wall and died.

When the news reached the embroidery workshop, Wei Yingluo was working on a garment.

Deep sapphire-blue satin, embroidered all over with bats—a play on the word for “blessings/fortune.” It looked a little old-fashioned on a young person, but on an elder it radiated auspiciousness and dignity.

“Everyone out.”

A chaotic flurry of footsteps sounded. When the last palace maid’s steps faded beyond the door, only Wei Yingluo and Momo Zhang remained in the embroidery workshop.

“…She didn’t have to die.” Momo Zhang’s voice came from above her head. “After His Majesty’s anger subsided, he realized it was merely a momentary mistake—her crime did not warrant death. He clearly issued an edict: fifty strokes of the rod and assignment to the Labor Department. Yet Linglong took her own life beforehand! People say that right up until the end she kept screaming that she would never go to Ningguta.”

“Momo, look.” Wei Yingluo answered somewhat off-topic. While Momo Zhang questioned her about the reason for Linglong’s suicide, she simply spread out the garment in her hands for her to see. With gentle eyes she smiled and said,

“Jixiang’s grandmother is over seventy. She depended entirely on Jixiang’s meager monthly stipend to survive. She kept holding on, waiting—waiting for the day her granddaughter would complete her service and leave the palace. Jixiang often told me that when she went home, she wanted to bring her grandmother a garment she had made herself: sapphire-blue satin, embroidered all over with bats, to symbolize blessings and longevity…”

“Yingluo!”

“Now Jixiang is gone, and that old lady… I don’t know if she’ll be able to keep living once she learns what happened. One life—or maybe two.” Wei Yingluo slowly lifted her head to look at the other woman. “Momo, do you think the true culprit behind all of this can be let off with just a light fifty strokes?”

In her eyes there was only calm acceptance—no regrets.

No regret for anything she had done!

Momo Zhang met her gaze for a long moment before finally letting out a soft sigh. “Yingluo, with your intense loves and hatreds, your readiness to repay even the smallest grievance… you truly are not suited to remain in the palace. After all, you are only a palace maid…”

If she were a mistress of high rank, such a vengeful, uncompromising temperament might not be a flaw at all. A hard-edged attitude could even help her suppress those beneath her.

But Wei Yingluo, like herself, was merely a servant who served others…

“You will soon be going to Changchun Palace,” Momo Zhang voiced the worry that had been weighing on her heart. “Once you’re there, if you keep this same personality, sooner or later you will bring disaster upon yourself.”

“What are you afraid of, Momo?” Wei Yingluo chewed over her words, understood what she feared, and reached out to pull her down to sit beside her. She nestled against her like a little granddaughter leaning on her grandmother, gently resting her head on Momo Zhang’s shoulder. Her voice was soft and full of comfort. “For now, I have no intention of doing anything to Fucha Fuheng. Even if I were to do something later, before that I would first make sure to clarify the truth from him…”

These words did not dispel Momo Zhang’s unease; instead, they deepened the anxiety in her heart. She stared straight at Wei Yingluo for a long while before finally asking in a probing tone: “And if your sister’s matter really was his doing?”

Wei Yingluo smiled.

That smile was so beautiful it seemed, for a fleeting moment, to summon the images of those legendary beauties of ancient times.

Daji, whose rise on the Deer Terrace Platform brought down the Shang dynasty; Baosi, whose single smile at the beacon fires doomed the Zhou; Yang Yuhuan, whose galloping horse in the dust buried the Tang dynasty.

   A beauty like a blade—capable of toppling cities and kingdoms.

   That night, Wei Yingluo completed the very last embroidery piece she would ever make in the embroidery workshop.

A sapphire-blue robe embroidered with a hundred blessings.

After entrusting the garment to Momo Zhang, asking her to have someone deliver it back to her hometown the next morning along with Jixiang’s remaining possessions, Wei Yingluo thought for a moment. Then she fastened the jade pendant her sister had left behind at her waist. Her fingers gently traced the name engraved upon the jade, and she murmured softly:

“Changchun Palace… Fucha Fuheng… I’m coming.”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 32: The Needle

   “Lord Fucha, you’ve arrived! Quick, this way please, this way—His Majesty has been waiting for you for a long time!”

Fucha Fuheng stepped into the study of Yangxin Hall with a puzzled expression.

“What’s gotten into Li Yu today?” He glanced back at the grand doors and asked curiously. “He’s never this enthusiastic normally…”

Eunuchs were like the bricks and tiles of the Forbidden City—they all belonged to the Emperor.

Especially a high-ranking eunuch like Li Yu, who knew full well that all his favor and status came from the Emperor alone. He only needed to please His Majesty; he had no need—and was especially wary—of currying favor with outside ministers.

For him to suddenly act so out of character and be this warm toward him made Fucha Fuheng feel thoroughly uneasy.

“You’re here, so he doesn’t have to be beaten with the board.” Hongli remained bent over his memorials, not even raising his head. “I told him to find someone, and after several months he still hadn’t found them. Truly a useless servant.”

Fucha Fuheng grew even more curious.

“Your Majesty, who exactly are you looking for?” Fucha Fuheng asked. It was rare enough that this Emperor would show interest in anything outside of state memorials—let alone a person. A man or a woman? Someone inside the palace or outside?

“Never mind, let’s not talk about her.” Hongli suddenly tossed the memorial in his hand over. “Take a look at this.”

Fucha Fuheng caught it, lowered his eyes, and immediately frowned. “This is… Zhong Yongtan’s impeachment memorial accusing the Commander of the Infantry, E Shan, of accepting ten thousand taels of silver in bribes…”

“Not just E Shan.” Hongli crossed his hands in front of his lips. “He also lodged a complaint against Zhang Tingyu! Haven’t you noticed anything?”

“Zhong Yongtan is a disciple of Lord Ertai.” Fucha Fuheng was extremely sharp; he instantly grasped the deeper meaning in the memorial and smiled. “So this impeachment memorial is actually Ertai declaring war on Zhang Tingyu. And they still want to borrow Your Majesty’s knife to do it!”

Hongli gave a series of cold laughs.

“These two men were important ministers of the previous emperor, which is why We have tolerated them time and again. But what have they done?” Hongli said in a deep, heavy voice. “Last year Liu Tongxun impeached Zhang Tingyu, claiming that the Zhang and Yao families of Tongcheng occupy half the roster of the gentry. We thought he was exaggerating at the time, but now it seems his words were extremely apt! As for Ertai, his second son Eshi remarried almost immediately after his first wife’s death—taking the daughter of Grand Secretary Gao Bin as his new wife, thereby becoming in-laws with Noble Consort Gao. Tell Us—what exactly is he plotting!”

His voice grew louder and louder, like sudden thunder rolling across a thousand miles—clear proof that his true anger had been roused.

When an emperor grows furious, blood flows for a thousand li.

“Emperor, you are anxious, this servant understands,” Fucha Fuheng hurriedly soothed him. “But right now the Han officials mostly attach themselves to Zhang Tingyu, while the Manchu officials lean toward Ertai. Not only the high-ranking court ministers—even the provincial governors and viceroys are choosing sides! To move against Ertai and Zhang Tingyu, we must wait patiently for the right moment.”

“We have waited long enough!” Hongli suddenly stood up. The motion was so forceful that he accidentally knocked over the teacup on the table. A bowl of Biluochun tea splashed across his robes. He seemed completely unaware of it and only spoke coldly to Fucha Fuheng: “To catch bandits, first catch the king. We will summon Prince Yi, the Prince of Yi, Grand Secretaries Ertai and Zhang Tingyu, Xu Ben, and Minister Neqin to appear together for a public trial. First we take Eshan’s head! Fuheng, you will arrange this matter!”

One was the sovereign, the other his subject.

Though he had intended to remonstrate, since the Emperor had already made his decision, Fucha Fuheng—as a minister—could only clasp his hands and reply: “Yes, Your Majesty!”

After venting his pent-up frustration, Hongli’s chest heaved for a few moments. Once the blazing heat in his heart subsided, he gradually felt a chill. He looked down at his ordinary robe now soaked with tea and frowned. Raising his voice, he called: “Li Yu!”

“This slave is here.” Li Yu pushed the door open and entered. Seeing the large wet patch on the Emperor’s clothes, he was greatly startled. He immediately beckoned outward; several young eunuchs came running in, then ran out again. Moments later they returned carrying a tray on which lay a bright yellow ordinary robe.

Li Yu personally lifted the garment and helped Hongli change into it.

Hongli spread his arms, accepting the service as a matter of course—until suddenly his brows furrowed. He raised one hand to cover his neck.

When that hand slowly came away again, a single drop of blood glistened in his palm.

Li Yu’s face visibly drained of color. His legs buckled and he nearly collapsed to his knees: “Your… Your Majesty…”

Fucha Fuheng was also startled. He stepped forward in three strides to stand protectively in front of Hongli, his eyes sweeping the room with sharp vigilance—as though searching every chair, every table leg, every crack in the wall, every possible hiding place for the audacious assassin who had dared to strike at the Emperor.

“There is no assassin,” Hongli’s voice came from behind him. “It is this…”

Fucha Fuheng turned around. Hongli had already pulled off the newly donned robe. Between his fingers—fingers that always carried the faint fragrance of ink and brush—he held a slender silver needle. He stared at the needle tip, still glistening with a bead of blood, and his voice gradually turned icy: “The Workshops are truly growing bold.”

The killing intent in his words was unmistakable to anyone who heard it.

   Fucha Fuheng felt a pang of reluctance and tried to persuade him: “This was merely a moment of carelessness on the part of the Workshops, not an intentional attempt on Your Majesty’s life…”

Before he could finish, Li Yu had already crawled to Hongli’s feet and was kowtowing frantically like pounding garlic: “Your Majesty, forgive me! Your Majesty, forgive me! For the slaves of the Workshops to commit such an inconceivable blunder shows how negligent they are in their duties. Worst of all, they have injured the dragon body—this is a crime beyond pardon! I beg Your Majesty to issue an edict allowing this slave to thoroughly investigate the matter. All those involved must be severely punished without mercy!”

Bang!

The doors of the embroidery workshop were suddenly flung open.

A large group of people surged in, led by Wu Shulai. Every face was suffused with murderous intent.

“Who is it?” Wu Shulai swept his gaze around the room. The cold cruelty in his eyes was like that of a butcher selecting lambs for slaughter.

The newcomers meant trouble. Every palace maid in the embroidery workshop stopped what she was doing and stared at Wu Shulai in fearful unease. Whenever his gaze lingered even slightly longer on any one person’s face, that person felt as though an invisible hand had seized her by the throat—her face turning ashen, almost unable to breathe.

“…It’s her.” Momo Zhang helplessly extended one finger.

Everyone followed the direction of that finger…

It was Linglong’s face, pale and tinged with a sickly bluish-white.

“Take her!” Wu Shulai raised his hand with a sharp wave. The two eunuchs behind him immediately lunged forward.

“No—no—let me go!” Realizing that if they seized her she would almost certainly die, Linglong began struggling desperately. Her body twisted like a snake, knocking over countless tables and embroidery frames along the way as she wailed and cried, “What crime have I committed? Why are you arresting me? Chief Steward Wu, you can’t do this—you have to give me a reason!”

“A reason?” Wu Shulai laughed in anger. “We entrusted you with making the Emperor’s everyday robe, and through sheer carelessness you left a silver needle in the collar! Do you know what that means? One small oversight like that could be construed as an attempt at regicide—high treason—and every single one of us would lose our heads!”

“Silver needle? What silver needle? I don’t know anything about it! Wait…” Linglong’s eyes were dazed at first, but suddenly something clicked. She whipped her head around and stared into the crowd behind her.

Among the anxious, uneasy onlookers, only one person remained perfectly composed.

As if she had foreseen this exact scene all along, she stood there with a faint smile, watching events unfold with keen interest.

“It’s you!” Linglong cried out in fear and fury. “It’s you—Wei Yingluo!”

In that instant, she felt like a pitiful insect caught in a meticulously woven spider’s web—the more she struggled, the more tightly she became ensnared.

“Chief Steward Wu, that garment wasn’t made by me—it was made by Wei Yingluo!” By now the situation had spiraled beyond any hope of concealment. Linglong shouted desperately toward Wu Shulai, “She was the careless one—no, she deliberately left that needle in the robe just to frame me!”

Wu Shulai frowned and turned his gaze toward Wei Yingluo.

Compared to the trembling little palace maids around her, she did indeed appear far too calm and unruffled.

“Stop spouting nonsense!” Momo Zhang, standing at his side, suddenly barked. “You personally delivered that everyday robe to me and personally told me it was your work. How can you now claim it was Yingluo’s? Don’t try to drag innocent people down with you just to save your own skin!”

“Momo Zhang, you…” Linglong’s eyes nearly split with rage.

At last she understood—she had fallen into a conspiracy.

   Others might be excused for not knowing, but Momo Zhang?

   To her eyes, embroidery was as distinctive as handwriting—each person’s work carried unmistakable traces.

There was no way she could have failed to recognize that the dragon on the robe had actually been embroidered by Wei Yingluo. Yet she had said nothing, simply accepted the garment, and then presented it as Linglong’s handiwork.

“You’re all in this together!” Linglong let out a hysterical scream at Wei Yingluo, nearly breaking free of the eunuchs’ grip to lunge at her.

How could the eunuchs allow such a scene in front of Chief Steward Wu? They immediately tightened their hold, slamming her face-down onto the ground—one cheek pressed hard against the floor, the other turned toward the crowd. With one bloodshot eye, Linglong glared fixedly at Wei Yingluo.

“Look, she’s at it again,” Wei Yingluo said, looking down at her from above. Her voice was utterly calm, as though she had rehearsed these very words long in advance. “First she tries to drag me down to save herself. Now she’s dragging Momo Zhang into it. By the time she reaches the Emperor’s presence, who knows—she might even accuse you, Chief Steward Wu, of failing to properly inspect the imperial everyday robe and demand you be punished as an accomplice!”

The moment those words left Wei Yingluo’s mouth, Linglong’s vision darkened; she nearly fainted.

Even if she had still had a slim chance of survival before, Wei Yingluo’s statement had just severed it completely.

Wu Shulai now stared at her with open suspicion and disgust. Coldly he said, “Such a vicious, treacherous thing cannot be allowed to remain. Take her away!”

All along the way, Linglong reached out desperately, grasping at anything she could—pillars, chair legs, even people’s legs. Her closest friend among the maids kicked her hand away and shrank back. Everyone else did the same, retreating like the tide pulling away from shore.

“Help! Save me!” Linglong wept bitterly, her voice cracking like a cuckoo crying blood. “I’m innocent!”

Behind her, Wei Yingluo watched her departure with a smile, then slowly tightened her grip on the handkerchief in her hand.

It was a handkerchief with a faint, lingering stain at one corner.

The stain was a mottled red-brown, like blood that had dried in the wind.

That was… Jixiang’s birthday gift.

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   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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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 30: The Little Thief

   “I really don’t know what Her Ladyship sees in you. A mere little embroideress, yet somehow you’ve stepped straight through the gates of Changchun Palace!” Ming Yu looked Wei Yingluo up and down, her gaze far from friendly.

The person sent by Changchun Palace turned out to be… her.

Ming Yu sat in the chair with a plate of pastries beside her—glutinous rice balls, green bean cakes, rose pastries, sesame candies—a colorful four-kind assortment that looked delicious just from appearance.

She was savoring the sweets with great concentration, looking less like someone on official business for the Empress and more like someone taking advantage of the errand to enjoy a leisurely half-day.

She had been sitting for as long as Wei Yingluo had been standing. Remembering the earlier warning from Chief Steward Wu, she couldn’t help but sigh inwardly: “The King of Hell is easy to deal with; the little devils are the difficult ones.”

The steps into Changchun Palace were probably not going to be easy to climb.

“Alright, I’ve delivered the message.” Ming Yu finally seemed to have had her fill. She popped the last piece of pastry into her mouth, clapped her hands, and said, “Finish up your business in the embroidery workshop quickly. Come to Changchun Palace by the end of the month.”

“Yes, I’ll see you off, Sister Ming Yu.” Wei Yingluo accompanied Ming Yu all the way to the entrance of Changchun Palace. The round trip took nearly half an hour, yet just walking and chatting like this made her feel more exhausted than working five or six hours straight in the embroidery workshop.

The most bitter and tiring work in the world is none other than serving others.

Dragging her utterly weary body back to the palace maids’ quarters, Wei Yingluo suddenly frowned.

Something was wrong…

The noisy chatter that had filled the room stopped the instant she stepped through the door.

The palace maids who shared the same quarters—some standing, some sitting, some near, some far—all turned to look at her with the exact same strange gaze. That look made Wei Yingluo extremely uncomfortable: it carried mockery, sarcasm, pity, and sympathy all at once.

Why were they looking at her like that?

Full of confusion, Wei Yingluo walked back to her bed. Two quilts lay side by side, two pillows pressed close together.

“Where’s Jixiang?” Wei Yingluo asked. “She hasn’t come back yet?”

Even eating a bowl of noodles shouldn’t take this long. By her calculations, Jixiang should have finished and returned ages ago.

A young palace maid who had been fairly close with Jixiang answered in a low voice: “She was taken away.”

Wei Yingluo froze. “What did you say?”

“She was taken.” The young maid had to repeat it, hesitated, then added, “…The item was hidden on her person…”

“What item was on her?” A bad premonition rose in Wei Yingluo’s heart.

“…A sachet.” The young maid sighed. “Inside it was the peacock feather threads that had gone missing earlier…”

“That’s impossible!” Wei Yingluo strode right up to her, eyes blazing. “You’re lying!”

“I’m not lying! It was Chief Steward Wu himself who searched her and found it!” The young maid was truly frightened by the terrifying look in Wei Yingluo’s eyes. Panicking, her gaze darted around the room and suddenly landed on one person. She pointed and cried out, “It’s said that it was Linglong who reported it!”

Wei Yingluo slowly turned her head. “Linglong!”

Linglong was lying face-down on her own bed, half her pillow soaked with tears. Her swollen red eyes looked back at Wei Yingluo. It was unclear whether she was explaining to her or to everyone else:

“I grew up together with Jixiang. Her family was poor; they often didn’t know where the next meal was coming from, so she sometimes had sticky fingers… I never imagined that after entering the palace—having food and clothes—she still hadn’t broken that bad habit…”

Before she could finish, a hand seized her by the collar and yanked her up from the bed.

“Nonsense!” Wei Yingluo’s furious face was inches away.

“I’m not talking nonsense! I didn’t want to believe she was that kind of person either… I just… I just mentioned it to Chief Steward Wu.” Linglong sniffled, sounding aggrieved. “Later I found out that Her Majesty the Empress had only given Steward Wu two days to solve it. He must have been anxious to catch the thief and decided to search everyone. Who could have known it would actually turn up…”

“Ha!” Wei Yingluo scoffed with icy disdain. “Do you think I’ll believe that?”

Linglong looked at her in shock.

“The peacock feather threads have been missing for so long. Now the moment Steward Wu comes and asks around, they’re suddenly found.” Wei Yingluo dragged Linglong right up to her face—eye to eye, like two crossed war blades sparking with the intensity of a fight to the death. “Linglong, do you think I would believe it? Do you think Steward Wu would believe it? Steward Wu… he just wants to close the case as quickly as possible, that’s all.”

With a violent shove, she threw Linglong to the ground. Without looking back, Wei Yingluo stormed out of the palace maids’ quarters.

Trees flashed past her on both sides. The path rushed backward beneath her feet.

Suddenly someone dashed out and blocked her path, stopping her frantic run.

“…Momo.” Wei Yingluo finally saw who it was. Panting hard, she said, “I have to find Chief Steward Wu. If I’m too late, it’ll be over…”

If she had been even a moment later, Jixiang’s life would have been beyond saving.

Even if it meant using up the hard-earned favors she had painstakingly accumulated, even if it meant owing Chief Steward Wu an enormous debt of gratitude, she was willing to pay any price.

As long as she could save that child’s life…

“Don’t go.” Momo Zhang’s hands clamped down like iron pincers, holding Wei Yingluo firmly in place.

“Momo, let go of me!” Wei Yingluo struggled with all her strength.

Halfway through her struggle, her entire body suddenly froze.

“Don’t look!” Momo Zhang hurriedly raised one hand to cover her eyes, only for Wei Yingluo to forcefully pull it away.

Ahead lay the path leading to the Palace Discipline Office.

Palace maids and eunuchs who had committed offenses were inevitably sent there to suffer.

The great doors of the Palace Discipline Office stood wide open. A nauseating smell drifted out from within—like old tears mingled with fresh blood.

Two eunuchs emerged from the doorway, one in front and one behind, carrying a stretcher between them.

A white cloth covered the person on the stretcher from head to toe. The cloth rose and fell in the rough outline of a woman’s face. As they passed by Wei Yingluo, the stretcher jolted slightly. A pale, lifeless arm slipped from the side and dangled limply.

A embroidered handkerchief slid from the fingertips and fell to the ground.

Wei Yingluo bent down and picked it up. Her eyes immediately blurred with tears.

On the handkerchief was an adorably chubby yellow dog—the very one Jixiang had raised back in her hometown. People said it was unusually intelligent; it would go out and catch sparrows and field mice, then bring them home to feed the old and the young.

This was the birthday gift she had given Jixiang.

“May you live a hundred years, safe and sound year after year.” Wei Yingluo cradled the handkerchief and murmured, “May you live a hundred years, safe and… sound year after year.”

   By the end her voice had broken into sobs. Suddenly she turned and rushed toward the Palace Discipline Office, only to be dragged back hard by Momo Zhang.

“Let me go!” Wei Yingluo cried in fury. “I’m going to find Chief Steward Wu! I want to ask him why he did this! He knew perfectly well there was something suspicious about the whole affair—why couldn’t he handle it impartially the way he did with my case before?”

“Silly child, everyone has their own difficulties,” Momo Zhang sighed. “If the Empress hadn’t set a strict deadline, of course he would have handled it fairly and taken his time to find the real culprit. But the Empress only gave him two days. He had no choice but to protect himself first, and then protect others.”

Wei Yingluo understood the logic perfectly; it was just that her heart refused to accept it. “But even if he couldn’t find the thief, at worst he’d receive some punishment. Yet Jixiang… she had to lose her life…”

“No one will take a punishment for someone who means nothing to them,” Momo Zhang said. As she spoke, tears began to roll from the corners of her eyes, crisscrossing through the deep fish-tail wrinkles on her face. Her voice grew hoarse and broken. “No one… will shed tears for someone who means nothing to them.”

In that instant, Wei Yingluo’s tears came pouring down.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 29: Good Sisters

   “Have you heard?” A palace maid quietly leaned close to Linglong’s ear. “Her Majesty the Empress took a real liking to Yingluo. That day Chief Steward Wu specially instructed Momo Zhang to transfer Yingluo to Changchun Palace!”

Her finger trembled; the needle pricked out a tiny bead of blood. Linglong unobtrusively wiped it away.

“To be able to serve Her Majesty the Empress—she really is blessed.” The palace maid sighed. “Linglong, it’s truly a pity for you.”

Linglong smiled lightly, as calm as a breeze. “What is there to pity about me?”

“In terms of looks, in terms of embroidery skill—you’re no worse than her at all. Yet Momo Zhang is so blatantly partial! If you had been the one to present the tribute that day, the person heading to Changchun Palace now wouldn’t be Wei Yingluo!” Seeing Linglong’s expression growing darker and darker, the maid hurriedly changed her tone to comfort her. “But it’s good that she’s leaving. Once she’s gone, it’ll finally be your turn to shine!”

Who cares about shining in this rundown embroidery workshop!

On the surface Linglong could still maintain her composure, but the needle in her hand grew increasingly erratic. The scene she had accidentally glimpsed that day kept replaying before her eyes.

“Momo, you’ve been far too kind to me.”

“That foolish senior sister of yours is my most accomplished disciple. For her sake alone, I’ll give you two extra points of care.”

Two points? That was far more than just two!

The best resources, the best opportunities—all of them were tightly reserved for Wei Yingluo alone! Everyone else didn’t even have the slightest chance to stand out!

“If only Momo Zhang would take care of me like that, then I too could win the Empress’s favor. Those two bolts of silk and that hairpin would have my name on them too! Aiya!”

Linglong sucked her freshly pricked finger into her mouth again. She stared at the embroidery frame in front of her, at the messy, chaotic pattern on it, and a surge of anger rose in her heart. She grabbed the scissors beside her—snip!

“Linglong!”

Her hand jerked. The scissors tore a long gash across the embroidery frame. It had been her best skill—the brocade cat design. The tear ran straight from left to right, slicing right across the cat’s neck, neatly severing its head. The whole picture instantly turned bloody and ominous. The cat’s two eyes now seemed to glare at her accusingly.

Linglong hurriedly flipped the frame face-down on the table and stood up to greet the newcomer. “Yes, Momo? I’m here. What do you need me for?”

“It’s not me who’s looking for you,” Momo Zhang said. “It’s Chief Steward Wu.”

Two beams of light flashed in Linglong’s eyes. Her heart leaped—could her luck finally be turning? Was it finally her turn to be noticed by a Noble Lady?

“…The Empress has issued an order. She has instructed Chief Steward Wu to find the thief who stole the peacock feather threads.” But Momo Zhang’s next words shattered her hopes. “Starting with you. One by one, you will all go and answer his questions. Whatever Chief Steward Wu asks, you answer truthfully. Understood?”

With every additional word Momo Zhang spoke, Linglong’s face grew one shade paler.

Even her legs felt weak and soft.

It was as though a headless cat had wrapped itself around her leg, staring up at her with those ill-omened feline eyes.

Not everyone was summoned for questioning—at least Wei Yingluo was spared.

In fact, when Chief Steward Wu arrived, the very first person he met with was her.

“With these eyes of mine, I have never misjudged a person,” he said kindly. “From the very first time I saw you, I knew you were no ordinary carp in the pond. Sooner or later, you were destined to leap out of this little embroidery workshop.”

“All thanks to your grace, sir,” Wei Yingluo replied, still maintaining the same respectful demeanor she had shown him from the beginning. She bowed and lowered her head. “If it hadn’t been for you upholding justice that day, where would I be now? I would likely have been expelled long ago by Aunt Fang and Zhu Chugong over those baseless accusations. This kindness I will never forget. In the future, if there is any place where I can be of use to you, Chief Steward Wu, please feel free to command me.”

“Haha, no need to be so polite! We help each other, that’s all!” Chief Steward Wu laughed heartily.

In the palace, no one offered kindness without reason. Favors given today were investments expecting repayment tomorrow.

Chief Steward Wu had very high hopes for Wei Yingluo and had no intention of cashing in that valuable favor just yet. He spoke to her gently for a while, even obliquely hinting at some of the Empress’s preferences. Finally, he patted her shoulder and said:

“When you reach the Empress’s side, you must serve her well. Don’t think that because she appears gentle and kind-hearted, you can slack off. The Empress may be merciful, but the people around her are not necessarily so.”

Wei Yingluo’s heart stirred. She nodded and said, “Yingluo understands. Thank you for the reminder, Chief Steward Wu.”

The higher a person’s position and power, the more cautious their words become. Every sentence they utter has passed through nine twists and turns in their mind, been weighed and measured countless times before finally being spoken.

Every single word carries deep meaning.

“Never mind. I’ll think about it later.” Wei Yingluo glanced at the sky and smiled. “There are more important things to do today.”

In the palace maids’ dining hall, a bowl of long-life noodles was gently placed in front of Jixiang.

Snow-white noodles curled in the broth, topped with rich, savory red minced meat and bright green vegetables.

“Know that on ordinary days it stirs the gods’ greed; this dish surpasses even fresh flat peaches. Thread after thread of fate can be tied, year after year our thoughts remain entwined. Dragon whiskers softly sway three thousand feet, crane lifespan eternally prosperous for eight hundred years. On this auspicious birthday, long-life noodles are worthy of celebration; family harmony and the moon share perfect reunion. One bowl of longevity noodles—please accept it with my humble regards.”

Wei Yingluo winked at Jixiang across the table.

“Wishing you a hundred years of life, and peace every single year.”

“Yingluo-jie…” This was a huge surprise. It took Jixiang quite a while to come back to her senses; she was so moved that her speech even stuttered a little.

“You—you—how did you know that t-today is my birthday?”

“When we first entered the palace, didn’t the managing eunuch specially read out everyone’s names and details while checking the roster?” Wei Yingluo smiled.

“He only said it once and you remembered?” Jixiang looked at her with admiration. “Your memory is really good.”

“Yes, I have a very good memory.” Wei Yingluo laughed.

How could her memory be that good? In truth, she had noticed Jixiang looking depressed lately, so she deliberately went to ask the managing eunuch about it.

Even this small bowl of noodles had not come easily.

The masters could eat whatever they wanted whenever they wanted, but if palace maids wanted something extra, they had to slip silver to the imperial kitchen cooks. Wei Yingluo had entered the palace practically empty-handed—where would she get any money? So she had traded her labor: several sleepless nights spent embroidering a few pieces for the cooks in exchange for this one bowl of noodles.

“Eat quickly, it’ll get cold if you wait any longer.” Wei Yingluo handed the chopsticks to her. “You have to eat the whole strand in one go, okay? That way you’ll live a hundred years.”

“Mm!” Jixiang took the chopsticks, picked up the noodles, put them in her mouth and slurped. Suddenly tears began to fall.

“What’s wrong?” Wei Yingluo was startled. “Does it not taste good?”

She dipped another chopstick into the broth, tasted it… the flavor was actually very nice, well worth the embroidery she had given up. So why was the other girl crying over it?

“Yingluo-jie, you’re really so good to me.” Jixiang choked out through sobs. “In the whole palace, only you truly care about me. Wuwu… once you go to Changchun Palace, no one will care about me anymore.”

“I’m not leaving forever.” Wei Yingluo’s heart softened. She hugged her and said, “Even if I don’t come back, can’t you just come visit me?”

“I… can I really come see you?” Jixiang looked at her with both hope and worry. “Wouldn’t that make things difficult for you? I may be slow, but even I know that not just anyone can enter Changchun Palace…”

“What difficulty could there be?” Wei Yingluo pressed a handkerchief she had already prepared into the other girl’s hand. “Take this. It’s your birthday present. In the future, if you miss me, come to Changchun Palace. If you can’t get in, just ask someone to pass this handkerchief inside. The moment I see it, I’ll know you’re thinking of me and I’ll immediately ask for leave to come see you. All right?”

Jixiang felt her chest grow warm; fresh tears fell again. The slightly salty drops landed in the soup, yet when she tasted them in her mouth, all she could taste was sweetness like honey.

“Wei Yingluo! Wei Yingluo!” A palace maid’s voice called from outside the door. “Are you there?”

“Yes, what is it?” Wei Yingluo turned and answered.

“Someone from Changchun Palace is here. Come with me quickly.”

“Yingluo-jie, go quickly.” As soon as Jixiang heard, she became even more anxious than Wei Yingluo. She pushed her arm gently. “I’ll stay here and finish the noodles. There’s plenty in this bowl—it’ll last me a long time.”

“Mm, I’ll be right back.” Wei Yingluo gave her an apologetic glance, then followed the maid out.

After she left, Jixiang didn’t rush to eat the noodles. Instead she gazed fondly at the handkerchief in her hand.

Embroidered on it was a yellow dog—the very one she had raised back in her hometown. Life had been hard for her in the palace, but it had also been hard back home. Her parents favored her younger brother; he ate the rice while she could only drink the soup—and sometimes there wasn’t even soup left. She would cry from hunger until her grandmother, unable to bear it, took her under her wing and squeezed out whatever little food she could from between her teeth to feed her.

It wasn’t her parents who supported her grandmother in her old age—it was the old yellow dog at home. Though plain-looking, he was an excellent hunter and often brought back sparrows and field mice from outside. Otherwise she and her grandmother would have starved to death long ago.

She rarely told anyone these rambling, trivial memories—because no one liked to listen.

Only Wei Yingluo not only listened, but kept them in her heart.

“Thank you.” Jixiang pressed the handkerchief to her burning heart, silently repeating over and over, “Thank you, Sister Yingluo. To be able to enter the palace, to be able to meet you… it’s truly wonderful… Jixiang only needs to live to fifty. All the remaining years of my life, I give them to you. I wish you a long life of a hundred years, safe and peaceful year after year.”

“Sigh.”

A soft sigh interrupted Jixiang’s thoughts. She turned her head and immediately pulled a long face.

At some point, Linglong had sat down beside her. No one knew what she had just been through, but her face was pale as paper, and a trace of panic and unease lingered between her brows.

Jixiang picked up her bowl of longevity noodles and was about to leave when Linglong reached out and pulled her back.

“Jixiang, how did you become this kind of person?” Linglong said with quiet sorrow. “You weren’t like this when we were little.”

The two were from the same hometown and had even been neighbors. However, Linglong’s family was much better off than Jixiang’s. Sometimes she would toss the sweets she couldn’t finish to her. Because she craved those little treats, little Jixiang would obey anything she said—climb a tree when told to climb, bark like a dog when told to bark.

“We used to be so close, but ever since we entered the palace, you’ve kept your distance from me.” Linglong sighed again. “Is it because of Wei Yingluo?”

“Hmph, so you do know!” Jixiang replied bluntly and quickly. “She never did anything to you, yet you’re always gossiping about her behind her back!”

Linglong’s expression turned cold. To hide the chill on her face, she lifted a sleeve as if wiping away tears. “You blame me for targeting her, but have you ever thought about how hard I’ve tried? My embroidery isn’t that much worse than hers, yet the mama always favors her. How could I not feel resentful?”

“It’s actually a big difference. You’re only really good at embroidering cats—everything else is just average. But Sister Yingluo can embroider any pattern and knows every stitch.” Jixiang looked at her strangely, speaking as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If you want the mama to value you, just work harder. Stop focusing only on cats and try more varieties… Wait, don’t tell me the reason you keep embroidering cats is because you can’t compare to Sister Yingluo in anything else?”

Linglong’s tear-wiping motion froze. A cold, sinister chill seemed to radiate from her body.

“…Fine.” After a long silence, she slowly lowered her sleeve and said in a pitiful, fragile voice, “I’ll embroider more varieties from now on.”

Jixiang wasn’t one to hold grudges. Seeing her childhood friend looking so pathetic, her heart softened and her tongue loosened as well. “Forget it, forget it. As long as you stop targeting Sister Yingluo in the future, we can still be good sisters.”

“Good. Then I swear to heaven right here.” Linglong pressed three fingers together and pointed to the sky. “If I ever harbor the slightest ill intent toward you or toward Wei Yingluo, may heaven punish me by making me smash into a wall and die a horrible death!”

Jixiang hurriedly pressed her pointing hand down and whispered reproachfully, “Don’t say that—it’s taboo!”

“So… we’re friends again?” Linglong looked at her expectantly.

Having already gone this far, what else could Jixiang do? After grumbling for a long while, she finally nodded reluctantly.

“Good Jixiang!” Linglong reached out and hugged her, resting her chin on her shoulder. Her eyes glinted with ferocity, yet her voice was sweetly soft as she smiled and said, “By the way, today is your birthday. I prepared a gift for you…”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 28: Apology

The night had already grown deep.

In the embroidery workshop, lamp after lamp had been lit.

The lamplight dyed the window paper a warm orange hue. Peering in through the sheets of paper, one could see that though it was clearly time for dinner, every single palace maid was gathered here. Even though their stomachs rumbled with hunger, not one of them had left.

Once again pricking her finger with the needle, Jixiang let out an “Ouch!” and quickly popped the bleeding fingertip into her mouth. She glanced back toward the door and asked indistinctly through her mouthful: “Has Sister Yingluo still not come back?”

Linglong, working on her embroidery without lifting her head, replied: “She probably won’t be coming back at all…”

“What are you saying!” Jixiang snapped angrily. “Pah pah pah—hurry up and spit three times!”

Linglong pursed her lips, too lazy to perform such a crude gesture. Seeing this, Jixiang grew even angrier and was about to give her a proper scolding when the palace maid nearest the door suddenly shouted: “She’s here, she’s here! Someone’s coming from outside!”

Jixiang froze for a moment, then immediately abandoned Linglong and ran toward the door.

A gust of wind rushed past her—someone had dashed out even faster.

“Zhang… Momo Zhang?” Jixiang stared dumbfounded at the figure’s back.

Like an elderly parent whose only son had gone off to take the imperial examinations, Momo Zhang practically stumbled and scrambled out the door, then stood there gazing eagerly at the eunuch outside, hoping to hear some good news from his lips—at the very least, not bad news!

“Congratulations, Momo Zhang.” The newcomer was three palace maids, led by one whose rank was slightly higher than Momo Zhang’s. Yet she now spoke to her with utmost courtesy and a smile on her face. “Wei Yingluo from your embroidery workshop made a great impression at the longevity banquet. These are the items bestowed upon her by Her Majesty the Empress.”

With a wave of her hand, the two maids behind her stepped forward carrying trays.

One tray held two bolts of silk, the other a pair of hairpins.

Items made in the palace workshops were naturally of the finest quality in the world—and these, being bestowed by the Empress herself, were of the absolute highest grade in both craftsmanship and materials.

As for the two jade hairpins, no one could fully judge their quality, but everyone could see that the color was exceptionally pure and even. A faint, hazy aura of mist-like clouds seemed to linger around them—now visible, now not, like fog yet not quite fog. Perhaps they were made from the legendary Lantian jade, the kind described in the saying: “On a warm day in Lantian, the jade gives birth to mist.”

The two bolts of silk, however, were immediately recognizable. Having worked in the embroidery workshop for over half a year, everyone knew good fabric when they saw it. One maid exclaimed in admiration: “This material is truly excellent. When worn on the body, it’s like wearing a garment made of spring water—wearing it regularly not only nourishes the skin, but nourishes the person as well.”

“You don’t understand—this is tribute sent from the Jiangnan Weaving Bureau,” another more knowledgeable palace maid said enviously. “All of it is meant for making clothes for the mistresses. Yingluo really has good fortune…”

Momo Zhang pulled the leading palace maid aside and spoke with her for a while. Then she took some silver from her sleeve and insistently pressed it into the other woman’s hand. The maid refused at first, but after much back-and-forth, she reluctantly accepted it. Only after personally seeing the visitor off did Momo Zhang return, her face beaming with delight. To the group of palace maids who were staring at her eagerly, she announced:

“It’s all right now. You can go back and eat.”

At a time like this, who could possibly have any appetite?

Jixiang was the first to rush over. “Momo, good Momo, please tell us quickly—what did Sister Yingluo do at the birthday banquet?”

“Yes, Momo, please tell us,” Linglong also came closer, speaking calmly. “What exactly did Yingluo do that not only did Her Majesty the Empress not punish her, but even bestowed a reward?”

Momo Zhang was in an excellent mood. Smiling at the two of them, she said, “I’m not entirely clear on the details myself. Why don’t you wait until she comes back—she can tell you everything in her own words.”

Linglong was silent for a moment before asking, “Where is she now?”

“Receiving her reward,” Momo Zhang replied. “Of course she has to go kowtow and express gratitude to Her Majesty the Empress!”

Outside Changchun Palace.

   Ming Yu held a hexagonal palace lantern in her hand. Its warm orange light illuminated the slender figure kneeling on the ground before her, stretching the shadow behind her long and thin under the moonlight.

“Your Highness,” Wei Yingluo pressed her forehead to the back of her hands. “This servant has come to plead guilty.”

“Oh?” Empress Fucha had already removed her heavy ceremonial robes and changed into the simple white clothing she usually wore. She approached gracefully under the moon, like Chang’e returning from the lunar palace—immortal in bearing, her smile gentle and charming. “Not to express gratitude, but to plead guilty?”

“Yes.” Wei Yingluo made no attempt to hide anything and confessed everything openly. “A few days ago, thieves broke into the embroidery workshop and stole the peacock feather threads. With no other choice, this servant used deer-tail velvet threads as a substitute. To get away with it in the main hall, I fabricated an entire explanation.”

“Since you already got away with it, why come and confess to me now?” Empress Fucha asked with a smile.

Wei Yingluo thought to herself: Because I don’t believe it.

Everything had gone too smoothly—almost as if Empress Fucha had deliberately cooperated with her.

Once she realized this, a cold sweat broke out on Wei Yingluo’s back. She no longer dared to harbor any illusions of luck. Without another word, she came straight to Empress Fucha to plead guilty.

“Your Majesty is merciful and compassionate toward your servants. Not only did you refrain from exposing me in public, you even bestowed a gift upon me. My heart is filled with fear and unease. How could someone who committed such a grave mistake as I have the face to accept your reward?” Wei Yingluo kowtowed. “I beg Your Majesty to take back the gift and punish me instead.”

“What has been bestowed cannot be taken back. Do you take me for what kind of person?” Empress Fucha gave a light laugh. “Besides, what’s done is done. Today is my birthday—I do not wish for any unpleasantness to occur. Do you understand?”

Wei Yingluo kowtowed again. “Your Majesty’s benevolence—this servant will remember it in her heart forever.”

“However…” Empress Fucha drew out her tone slightly. “There is one thing that this palace finds extremely strange…”

“Please speak, Your Highness,” Wei Yingluo said quickly. “This servant will tell you everything without reservation.”

“Ming Yu said that while you were waiting outside the hall earlier, you deliberately delayed your entry until the very last moment.” Empress Fucha asked, “What exactly were you waiting for at that time?”

Wei Yingluo’s eyes darted around as she tried to think of an answer, but before she could speak, Empress Fucha had already provided one herself.

“You were waiting for the Emperor,” Empress Fucha said. “Weren’t you?”

Wei Yingluo was greatly startled. Reflexively, she raised her head and met a pair of wise, penetrating eyes.

Anyone who possessed eyes like these could not possibly be an easy mark—how could she ever be deceived so simply!

In the flash of lightning and spark of fire, Wei Yingluo made her decision.

“Yes!” Gritting her teeth, Wei Yingluo laid the entire matter bare. “Your Majesty enjoys profound imperial favor. This servant wished to borrow the Emperor’s momentum at that moment to make Your Majesty happy. That way, when this servant entered the hall to make her report, Your Majesty would not fly into a rage.”

Empress Fucha’s expression suddenly darkened. “What audacity! You even dared to make use of the Emperor himself!”

“Please forgive this servant, Your Majesty!” Wei Yingluo kowtowed repeatedly, assuming the complete look of someone who had resigned herself to placing her life entirely in the other’s hands. “If punishment must be given, please let it fall on this lowly servant alone—do not implicate the innocent people in the embroidery workshop!”

“Of course there must be punishment. Let me think…” Empress Fucha fell silent.

Only when Wei Yingluo’s breathing had grown noticeably heavier did the Empress suddenly let out a soft chuckle. “Then I shall punish you to remake all of my everyday robes—using only deer-tail short velvet this time. Do you remember?”

Wei Yingluo jerked her head up like a condemned prisoner who had just been granted a pardon. She stared blankly for a long moment before wild joy flooded her face. With a resounding thud, she smashed her forehead against the floor. “Yes! This servant thanks Your Majesty!”

“Very well. It’s getting late—go back now.” Empress Fucha looked at her gently. “From now on, once you finish embroidering my everyday robes, deliver them to Changchun Palace in person. And also…”

She turned to Ming Yu beside her. “Theft has appeared in the palace for no apparent reason. Chief Steward Wu bears unavoidable responsibility—tell him to investigate this matter thoroughly!”

Ming Yu quickly assented.

“That’s enough. I am tired now.” Empress Fucha nodded. “See her out.”

A six-sided palace lantern led the way ahead, illuminating the path out of Changchun Palace.

“Sister Ming Yu, this is far enough.” Wei Yingluo did not dare truly let Ming Yu accompany her the whole way. From Changchun Palace to the embroidery workshop and back—even walking quickly—would take nearly half an hour. “I can manage the rest of the road myself.”

Ming Yu had no desire to waste time on a mere little palace maid either. “Fine then. I’ll head back.”

With that, she immediately turned and walked back toward Changchun Palace.

Wei Yingluo watched her go from behind. More accurately, she was not so much watching Ming Yu as she was gazing fixedly at Changchun Palace in the distance.

The night was already deep, yet Changchun Palace blazed as bright as day. What illuminated it—the palace maids hanging lantern after lantern along the walls, the legendary night-shining pearls offered as tribute, or perhaps that human-height coral tree from today’s birthday banquet?

That was Empress Fucha’s residence—the dwelling place of the most honored woman in the rear palace.

In the past, she could only look at it from afar. But starting today, it no longer felt quite so unreachable.

“Lord Fucha Fuheng…” Wei Yingluo murmured in a voice only she could hear. “Wait for me. I’m coming to find you…”

Far away, Changchun Palace shone brilliantly. Around Wei Yingluo, however, everything was pitch black.

The darkness swallowed her figure, swallowed her expression, turning her into a mere black silhouette—so utterly out of place against the distant, blazing splendor of Changchun Palace.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 27: The Tribute

   The chief eunuch Li Yu entered briskly, a snow-white whisk tucked under his arm, followed by a line of eunuchs carrying red sandalwood boxes.

“Long live Her Majesty the Empress!” Li Yu smiled like a Maitreya Buddha. “By His Majesty’s command, this servant has come to deliver this year’s birthday tribute.”

The Empress rose to greet him: “His Majesty is too kind. This concubine expresses her gratitude.”

“Your Majesty, please do not be hasty. In addition to the usual gold, silver, and silks, His Majesty has specially prepared a gift just for you.” With that, Li Yu clapped his hands, and two handsome young eunuchs carried in an exquisitely crafted dressing case.

The timing was perfect: the hour of zi (midnight), the very moment Empress Fucha had been born.

At the top of the dressing case, a small black compartment suddenly sprang open, and out popped a vivid emerald-green cuckoo bird. At first glance it looked utterly lifelike; only upon closer inspection did one realize it was carved from a single piece of imperial jadeite, with two black agate stones set as eyes that sparkled with spirit—exquisite and adorable. The moment it “saw” Empress Fucha, it spread its green feathers and let out a clear “cuckoo, cuckoo” call.

The Empress immediately showed delight: “Is this a clock?”

“To give Your Majesty a surprise, His Majesty instructed the Clock Workshop long ago to create it. They labored over it for a very long time and produced a birthday clock. But His Majesty said that we Chinese do not customarily give clocks as birthday gifts, so he specially ordered them to modify it. Look—” Li Yu opened the dressing case. Inside lay an array of various jewels, most of them emerald and agate pieces that perfectly complemented the cuckoo bird’s calls. Smiling, he continued, “This is a dressing case, but the little compartment on top can tell time accurately!”

Its value was secondary; what was truly precious was the thought and care the Emperor had poured into it.

Every consort present was filled with envy. Noble Consort Hui in particular dug her long artificial nails so deeply into the flesh of the maid beside her that, though it hurt, the other girl clenched her teeth and dared not make a sound.

“How thoughtful of the Emperor to go to such lengths for this palace,” the Empress finally said, displaying the first smile she had worn at the birthday banquet.

Those around her immediately crowded forward with flattering words. The Empress raised a hand, and the voices instantly fell silent. Turning to Li Yu, she said, “Eunuch Li, kindly inform His Majesty that this palace will come in person shortly to express gratitude.”

“Yes, Your Ladyship.” Li Yu replied respectfully. As he turned to leave, his footsteps paused for a moment.

Wei Yingluo stood off to one side of the path, calmly holding her tray high as if nothing were amiss. By chance—or perhaps design—the tray perfectly concealed her face.

Though he found the woman vaguely familiar, this was, after all, the Empress’s birthday banquet. Li Yu could hardly order her to raise her head at such a moment; it would only invite needless speculation from others. With the Empress’s instruction weighing on him, he withdrew his gaze and continued on his way.

After he left, everyone’s attention and discussion remained fixed on the cuckoo bird. It was only after a long while that Empress Fucha remembered there was still a palace maid who had come to present a gift. She turned, her expression gentle and kind, and asked, “What has the embroidery workshop sent?”

Wei Yingluo slowly unfolded the yellow silk cloth draped over the tray, revealing the neatly folded phoenix robe beneath.

A wave of gasps rose from all sides—not in admiration of the phoenix robe’s beauty, but…

…in astonishment at its crudeness.

“How dare you!!” Before Empress Fucha could even speak, her senior palace maid, Ming Yu, was already shouting furiously. “You actually dare present such a thing to the Empress!!”

The embroidery on the phoenix robe was extraordinary: the phoenix spread its wings as if about to take flight. In terms of craftsmanship, it was hardly inferior to the earlier ingeniously carved cuckoo bird.

The difference lay in this: the cuckoo had been carved from precious emerald, whereas the phoenix robe on the tray was woven from the fur of some unknown animal.

“I distinctly remember sending peacock threads to the embroidery workshop. What exactly is this?” Ming Yu strode forward, snatched up the phoenix robe, and examined it. Her face grimed further with anger. “This isn’t gold thread, nor even silver thread. Very well—the embroidery workshop has openly embezzled the peacock threads and then dared to palm off this shoddy, slipshod substitute?”

Wei Yingluo swiftly knelt. “This servant does not dare.”

“You don’t dare? You’ve already done it—what is there left that you don’t dare?” Ming Yu was about to hurl the phoenix robe into the girl’s face when a calm voice came from behind: “Wait.”

Empress Fucha beckoned. Ming Yu handed the garment over. The Empress lowered her head to examine it closely for a moment; even she could not help but frown. Raising her eyes to Wei Yingluo, she asked, “If not mistaken, this is thread twisted from deer-tail down.”

“Your Ladyship is truly wise.” Wei Yingluo made no attempt to conceal it; she openly admitted the fact with composure.

The crowd erupted in an uproar.

It really was the lowest-grade embroidery thread—deer-tail fur. Even slightly higher-ranking palace maids would never use such material for clothing. Had the people in the embroidery workshop eaten the heart of a bear and the gall of a leopard to be this daring? Or had someone instructed them to use this to humiliate the Empress?

In an instant, numerous gazes—some overt, some surreptitious—flicked toward Noble Consort Hui.

Even Empress Fucha harbored similar suspicions. Her expression gradually cooled as she asked, “Why did the embroidery workshop choose to use such thread?”

Was the Empress only fit for such thread? Or had there been an error with the materials sent from above? In the eyes of those present, either answer constituted a humiliation for the Empress. The former needed no explanation; the latter would mean that the Empress was utterly unable to control the rear palace—anyone could swap out materials at will and, on such an important occasion as a birthday banquet, deliberately humiliate her with a deer-tail phoenix robe.

Whatever happened after the banquet, however the Empress chose to handle the matter, one thing was certain: this little palace maid… was as good as dead!

Under the crowd’s deathly stares, Wei Yingluo took a deep breath. Still maintaining the posture of holding the tray aloft, she spoke clearly and distinctly:

“This servant has heard that Her Ladyship the Empress has always practiced frugality, and has remarked that gold and silver threads are extravagant and wasteful. Moreover, before our Great Qing ancestors entered the Pass, all clothing and adornments were made exclusively with deer-tail down thread. On this occasion, this servant has presumed to abandon gold and silver threads and return to the old ways. In doing so, we both obey Her Ladyship’s principle of strict economy and serve as a reminder to all present to remember the hardships our ancestors endured in founding the imperial enterprise.”

“This…” Ming Yu had already prepared to call for someone to deal with Wei Yingluo, but upon hearing this unexpected speech from her, she was suddenly rendered speechless. She tried for a long time to find fault in the girl’s words but couldn’t pick out a single flaw, so she could only cast a pleading glance toward Empress Fucha.

How would Empress Fucha deal with Wei Yingluo?

Wei Yingluo had already guessed it with near certainty.

Earlier, she had refused to come in and present the gift because the Empress had been in a foul mood at the time due to the fertility-Guanyin statue sent by Noble Consort Hui.

Even a kind person who fasts year-round might, when in a bad temper, stretch out a foot to kick the household dog at their side.

So she had waited and delayed, dragging things out left and right, until finally the Emperor’s gift arrived.

That little emerald-green cuckoo bird sang brightly enough to dispel the gloom in the Empress’s heart.

Even a person with a fiery temper will speak more gently when in a good mood—and might even kindly toss a bun or two to a beggar by the roadside.

“Man proposes, Heaven disposes,” Wei Yingluo thought to herself. “Heaven above… please do not disappoint those with sincere hearts.”

Heaven, naturally, would not disappoint someone with a sincere heart.

“…You little girl, your mind is quite ingenious.” Kneeling on the ground, she could only hear Empress Fucha’s voice drifting down from above her head, carrying a tone of relaxation and delight. “Nowadays, extravagance and waste are on the rise in the palace. If everyone could remember the hardships our ancestors endured to build this dynasty, we ought to abandon luxury and live simply and plainly. Someone, come—bestow upon her the twenty-eighth chapter: offering an apology.”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 26: Substitute

   The embroidery workshop quickly filled with people.

“Oh my God, the peacock feather thread is missing! Serves her right—all the good luck always lands on her, and now she’s finally in deep trouble!”

“Exactly! Let’s see how she explains this! If Mama had given the work to me, I wouldn’t have messed it up like her!”

“Hehe, this time she’s definitely getting kicked out of the palace, right?”

“More than that—she’s going to lose her head!”

Yingluo suddenly spun around and coldly swept her gaze over the crowd: “On the road to Hell, I’ll have all of you accompanying me—I won’t feel lonely at all!”

The others had been gleefully kicking her while she was down, but this sudden remark instantly soured their mood. Linglong stepped forward from the group and spoke the thought on everyone’s mind: “What nonsense are you spouting! You lost the item yourself—why should we be buried with you?!”

“She’s not wrong.” A cold, sharp voice suddenly rang out behind her. Linglong turned her head and, to her horror, saw Momo Zhang standing right there, staring at her with eyes like knives. “The phoenix robe is the embroidery workshop’s offering gift. We are all in this together—upper and lower as one. If the Empress asks about it, do you think she’ll only punish her alone? Instead of gloating over someone else’s misfortune, you’d better touch your own neck and see if it’s sturdy enough to withstand a single stroke!”

If those words had come from Wei Yingluo’s mouth, most people would have dismissed them.

But coming from Momo Zhang—and said a second time—no one could afford not to believe them.

This matter was truly one of shared glory and shared ruin. If anything went wrong, the entire embroidery workshop could be doomed.

One palace maid, terrified, began to cry: “What are we going to do? I don’t want to die!”

The maid beside her hurriedly covered her mouth: “Pah! You’re not allowed to say that word in the palace!”

Another maid gritted her teeth: “Which damned, knife-worthy thief stole it? Hurry up and return it—unless you want to keep it as a burial offering?”

At those words, everyone began looking around suspiciously, eyeing one another with distrust, each wishing they could immediately drag out the little thief who had ruined them all.

“Momo, it’s my fault!” Jixiang suddenly dropped to her knees with a thud at Momo Zhang’s feet. Unlike the others, she had always thought of Wei Yingluo first. To spare her sister some suffering, she was willing to take the blame herself. “It was me who insisted on dragging Sister Yingluo away, which gave the thief the chance. If you’re going to punish someone, punish me!”

Wei Yingluo glanced at her, then knelt down beside her and addressed Momo Zhang: “Momo, one person should bear the consequences of their own actions. The peacock feather thread was lost while in my hands. I am willing to take full responsibility.”

Momo Zhang sighed. “And how do you plan to handle it?”

“The urgent priority is to rally the entire workshop and finish the phoenix robe first.” Wei Yingluo thought for a moment, then gritted her teeth. “As for the peacock feather thread… I hope Mama will grant me one request.”

“What is it?” Momo Zhang asked.

“Please open the doors to the storeroom!”

The last time Wei Yingluo had entered the storeroom was when she had overeaten kaolin clay and her belly had swollen, making her clothes no longer fit. Momo Zhang had specially allowed her to go to the storeroom to fetch an old but properly sized garment.

There, she had not only seen many old and new clothes, but also countless old and new threads. Almost every embroidery thread that had ever been fashionable in the world—or was currently in vogue—was gathered in that place. Among them, there was always something that could serve as a substitute.

The storeroom doors were opened. Wei Yingluo walked slowly past the shelves, carefully inspecting box after box of embroidery threads.

Gold thread—no, not suitable. Peacock feather thread shimmered with seven colors under sunlight; gold thread had only one hue. The moment sunlight hit it, the difference would be glaringly obvious.

The same applied to silver thread, red thread, and threads of any other color.

Although multicolored threads could somewhat approximate the hue, they lacked that innate, heaven-bestowed aura of nobility and luxury—indeed, they fell short even of gold and silver threads.

Jixiang held a lamp for her, her voice trembling with tears: “This won’t do, that won’t do either… Why don’t you just blame it on me? I’m thick-skinned and tough—I can take a beating…”

“I won’t let you get beaten.” Wei Yingluo continued sorting through the embroidery threads, her gaze resolute and unwavering. “And I won’t let Momo Zhang get beaten either.”

She knew full well that if she ultimately failed to produce the phoenix robe, two people would surely try to shoulder all the blame themselves.

One was Jixiang, and the other was Momo Zhang.

“Hey! Why are you so stubborn!” Jixiang was so anxious she spun in circles. In her distraction, she bumped into a wooden rack beside her. A bag that had been loosely tied slipped off, and the cord came undone at once, spilling its contents onto the floor.

Wei Yingluo paused. “This is…”

Amid the gold and silver threads scattered around, the items on the ground looked unusually plain.

“Oh, these are furs for making winter capes—low-grade stuff, completely useless!” Jixiang bent down to gather the white pelts. “Everything else at least gets a proper box, but these don’t even rate that. They just get tossed into any old bag.”

After picking them up, she casually tied the bag shut again with the cord. She stood on tiptoe to put it back on the rack when a hand suddenly reached out from the side and stopped her.

Jixiang blinked in surprise and turned. “Sister Yingluo?”

Wei Yingluo took the bag from her hands, loosened the cord once more, pulled out a piece of fur, and held it up for closer inspection.

It really was inferior quality—still carrying a faint animal odor. Without proper treatment, even a palace maid would probably turn her nose up at wearing it.

Seeing the thoughtful look on her face, Jixiang asked in disbelief, “Sister Yingluo, you… you’re not thinking of… No way—this is the most useless thing here!”

“There is no person without value in this world, and no object without use,” Wei Yingluo replied with a smile. She gently ran one finger over the soft fur; a gleam of intelligence passed through her eyes. “It all depends on how you use it—and where you put it!”

One month later—

   “The Gold and Jade Workshop presents four jade objects in two boxes, and two lai-stone ruyi scepters.”

“The Ceramics Workshop presents a pair of jade phoenix vases and a pair of crystal double-fish vases.”

“The Glass Workshop presents a carved ivory dressing case and an enameled pocket watch with mirror.”

“The Screen Workshop presents a pair of palace fans with peacock feathers on purple sandalwood stands, a carved purple sandalwood throne, and a pair of cloisonné enamel crane candlesticks.”

Outside Changchun Palace, long lines of eunuchs and palace maids sent by the various workshops stood waiting to present their gifts. Wei Yingluo stood among them, holding a tray covered with a piece of yellow silk that completely concealed what lay beneath.

“Relax,” she told herself silently. “Man proposes, Heaven disposes.”

At that moment, two young eunuchs emerged from the main hall, bowing as they walked. Perhaps because they were still inexperienced, they didn’t bother lowering their voices or avoiding eavesdroppers nearby.

“Did you see Her Majesty the Empress’s face? It was really something—ugly from start to finish. Not a single smile the whole time!”

“Her Highness Noble Consort really went too far,” the other said. “Of all things to send, she gave Her Majesty a golden statue of the Child-Giving Guanyin.”

Everyone in the palace knew: ever since the premature death of her eldest son, Empress Fucha had borne no more children. What Noble Consort Hui had done was equivalent to publicly ripping open the Empress’s deepest wound and then rubbing salt into it.

Wei Yingluo had originally been standing in the middle of the crowd. Hearing this, something stirred in her heart, and she quietly fell back a few steps.

Though man proposes and Heaven disposes, if one wants success, it’s best to avoid man-made disasters as much as possible.

After receiving such a “grand gift” from Noble Consort Hui, the Empress might not say anything outwardly, but she was surely suppressing a bellyful of rage. Anyone who went in to present a gift now—whatever it was—wouldn’t win any favor.

They might even end up bearing the brunt of her anger…

“Unless…” Wei Yingluo glanced back over her shoulder, “…unless the gift is presented right after that person.”

Her steps fell further and further behind, and before she realized it, Wei Yingluo had retreated to the very end of the line.

One by one, the palace maids ahead of her entered carrying their trays, while inside the hall the continuous sound of ceremonial announcements echoed.

Unknowingly, she was the only one left…

“Embroidery Workshop tribute—”

The eunuch’s summons rang out from within the hall.

Though there was clearly no one behind her, Wei Yingluo kept turning her head anxiously, eyes searching.

“Embroidery Workshop tribute—”

The eunuch’s call sounded again.

Three times is the limit; if a third summons were to ring out, even proper etiquette would turn into a breach of protocol.

Wei Yingluo could only take a deep breath and murmur to herself, “Man proposes, Heaven disposes!”

Holding the tray in both hands, she walked into Changchun Palace with heavy, slow steps.

Though the palace was usually frugal, on this birthday celebration day Changchun Palace was lit with lanterns and decorated lavishly, gleaming in gold and splendor. Noble Ladies she recognized and some she did not sat high at the banquet tables. Human-height coral trees, Western mirrors smoother and more flawless than a calm lake surface, and rare treasures that common folk could only dream of seeing were piled high throughout the hall—all of them gifts presented to the Empress.

The summoning eunuch announced: “The Embroidery Workshop presents one phoenix-amid-peonies women’s robe, and one pair of stone-blue satin embroidered phoenix-head high-heeled women’s shoes!”

Yingluo knelt down and raised the tray high above her head: “I respectfully congratulate Her Majesty the Empress on eternal youth and endless blessings of longevity.”

The tray remained held high for a long moment, with no one stepping forward to receive it.

Perhaps because it was her first time seeing so many Noble Ladies, she was so overwhelmed that she forgot what came next? Empress Fucha kindly reminded her: “Once inside the hall, why haven’t you uncovered the yellow silk yet?”

Wei Yingluo pressed her lips together. She had deliberately fallen to the back of the line, slowed her pace, and delayed lifting the yellow silk as long as possible—she had done her utmost, yet she still hadn’t been fast enough. With a silent sigh in her heart, she was just about to lift the yellow silk when, at that very moment, a long, drawn-out announcement came from behind her:

“The Emperor bestows a gift!”

It was as if an electric current surged through Wei Yingluo’s entire body.

She had to summon every ounce of strength she possessed just to suppress the wild joy surging in her heart.

That person… had finally come.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 25: The Chief Embroiderer

How unpredictable the ways of the world can be.

Not long ago she had repeatedly warned and advised Jinxiu not to try every means possible to get close to the palace guards—especially Fucha Fuheng.

Who could have imagined that fate would play such an enormous joke on her?

“Sister Yingluo, who are you looking at?” Jixiang asked softly from beside her.

On the opposite corridor, a group of patrolling palace guards was passing by—six in total. Fucha Fuheng and Qingxi were both among them.

Palace maids who dreamed of climbing high branches to become phoenixes were not limited to Jinxiu alone. But no one dared act on it the way she had. Most only paused in their work, gazing from afar and whispering among themselves: one saying how tall this one was, another commenting how handsome that one looked. By the end of the discussion their faces would flush and their hearts would flutter.

“No one. Let’s go,” Wei Yingluo said, withdrawing her gaze. She smiled at Jixiang. “Come on, let’s head back to the embroidery workshop. I hear the long-time embroiderers are all busy rushing to make everyday robes for the Empress Dowager and the Emperor. And in just one more month it will be the Empress’s birthday. Every palace and workshop are preparing birthday gifts for Her Majesty. Following tradition, our embroidery workshop must present Her Majesty with a phoenix robe—but I wonder who the chief embroiderer will be…”

One hour later, everyone had gathered in the embroidery workshop.

Momo Zhang looked around at the assembled group and spoke slowly and deliberately: “The chief embroiderer will be—”

Every face turned toward her with eager anticipation. Linglong in particular couldn’t help standing on tiptoe, as if doing so might help her stand out from the crowd and catch Momo Zhang’s eye.

Momo Zhang’s gaze was indeed drawn to her for a moment. Linglong’s face lit up with wild joy—but the smile quickly froze. Because that gaze slowly moved away from her and finally settled on Wei Yingluo.

“—Wei Yingluo!”

Momo Zhang announced.

The tiptoes that had been raised came back down to the ground with a thud.

There was a chorus of sighs all around. Linglong held back for a moment, but finally couldn’t restrain herself any longer and asked, “Momo, you always think of Yingluo for every good opportunity—then what about the rest of us?”

Momo Zhang turned her gaze toward her and countered with a question, “Are you saying I’m playing favorites?”

Linglong jumped in fright and hurriedly lowered her head. “I wouldn’t dare…”

“You don’t dare, which is not the same as saying it isn’t true.” Momo Zhang shook her head, then addressed everyone: “Fine then. Whether it’s you or anyone else—if any of you feel it’s unfair, if any of you think your embroidery is better than Yingluo’s, then step forward. I’ll hand the work over to you!”

The women looked at one another.

If it were only a matter of embroidery skill, there were plenty of ambitious ones among them who would have dared to step up and compete. But just two days earlier, Aunt Fang had been expelled from the palace, and even Jinxiu—whose needlework ranked second only in the embroidery workshop—had been sentenced to hard labor in the Laundry Department. On top of that, Wei Yingluo had just received the favor and recognition of Chief Steward Wu. At this very moment, when Wei Yingluo’s momentum was at its peak, who would dare to challenge her?

In the end, no one stepped forward.

Even Wei Yingluo herself felt her limelight had grown too bright. After the day’s embroidery work was finished and she assumed everyone else had already left, she quietly sought out Momo Zhang alone and sighed. “Embroidery requires years of accumulation. How old am I, really? No matter how good my work is, it’s still limited. In the embroidery workshop, among the palace maids—and even including the master artisans brought in from outside—there are countless whose skill surpasses mine… Momo, you’ve been far too kind to me.”

“There is a custom among palace maids: preparations for the birthday ceremonies of the Empress and the Noble Consort are always assigned to newly arrived maids. On that day, when the mistresses are in a good mood, most will receive generous rewards. Even if the work isn’t perfect, they won’t be overly harsh. This is to give you all a little hope, a chance to stand out.” After delivering this official-sounding explanation, Momo Zhang suddenly winked at her. “Besides, that foolish older sister of yours was my most outstanding disciple. Even just for her sake, I’ll look after you a little extra.”

Wei Yingluo felt a surge of emotion. She wanted to say something, but after racking her brain for a long while, she couldn’t find the right words.

“Enough of that. Palace maids don’t go around with long, mournful faces. No matter the circumstances, you must always keep a smiling appearance. Come now.” Momo Zhang smiled. “Give me a smile.”

Wei Yingluo stared at her blankly for a long moment. Then, like an infant just learning to smile, she tentatively lifted the corners of her lips, revealing an immature, somewhat stiff smile.

A smile like that could hardly be called beautiful.

Yet at this moment, it was not a smile meant to please a Noble Lady, nor one designed to disarm an enemy. It was a smile that came from the heart—genuine and sincere.

It was also the first time she had truly smiled since hearing the news of her sister’s death.

A few days later, the materials needed for sewing the phoenix robe arrived at the embroidery workshop.

There were silks and satins in abundance, but what drew the most attention was the box of peacock feather thread in Momo Zhang’s hands.

The feathers looked as though they had just been plucked from a peacock’s tail—vivid and brilliant. But in this palace, everything demanded exquisite refinement, especially items intended as tribute to the Noble Ladies; no expense was spared on labor or materials.

“Peacock feather thread is woven by interlacing peacock feathers with gold and silver thread. Even a highly skilled weaver can only produce one meter per day.” Momo Zhang handed the box to Wei Yingluo with great care and solemnity, instructing her, “You must use it well and be extremely careful not to make any mistakes. There is no extra to replace it.”

Wei Yingluo quickly accepted the box.

At that moment, a ray of sunlight slanted into the box. What lay inside no longer seemed like mere fabric, but rather priceless jewels, refracting a dazzling array of multicolored light—dreamlike and illusory, like a mirage shimmering on the sea.

Everyone was captivated by its beauty.

Then, an untimely voice broke the spell.

“What happens if a mistake is made?”

The speaker was hidden among the crowd and had deliberately pinched their voice. Though Wei Yingluo immediately looked in the direction of the sound, she couldn’t identify who it was.

Momo Zhang’s expression darkened instantly. In the palace, nothing was more taboo than speaking such ominous words. She snapped sharply, “Who was that? Step forward!”

She called out three times, but still no one dared to come forward.

Seeing this, Momo Zhang scoffed with icy disdain. “This is a tribute to be presented to Her Majesty the Empress. If even the slightest error occurs, we will all lose our heads together!”

Some believed her words; others did not.

But whatever thoughts were in the others’ hearts, Wei Yingluo paid them no mind.

She cared only about the opportunity right in front of her.

“I cannot take the initiative to approach Fucha Fuheng. Too many eyes are watching him, and too many are watching me. Being too forward would only give others a handle against me.” At the embroidery frame, Wei Yingluo picked up a strand of peacock feather thread from the box and toyed with it, thinking to herself, “For now, the best plan is to start with the people around him… No doubt that’s what Momo was thinking when she assigned this task to me. If I do it well, naturally I’ll leave an impression with his sister—the Empress.”

How many people’s steady rise to prominence began with nothing more than leaving behind a single favorable impression?

   Wei Yingluo concentrated fully on her embroidery. She became so absorbed that she lost all track of time. Only when someone shook her shoulder did she turn her head. Outside the window, night had already fallen. Jixiang stood beside her holding an oil lamp, a hint of complaint in her voice: “Sister Yingluo, I’ve called you three times already, and you completely ignored me.”

“Sorry, I got too caught up in the stitching.” Wei Yingluo smiled, then raised a hand to rub her sore, stinging eyes.

“It’s pitch dark and you didn’t even light a lamp—do you not want your eyes anymore?” Jixiang set the oil lamp down in front of her. The flame illuminated the box of peacock feather threads, making them shimmer and sparkle. The light forcefully drove back the surrounding darkness, turning the area around Wei Yingluo as bright as daylight. Even Jixiang—who usually had eyes only for food—couldn’t help but be drawn in by the sight. It took her quite a while to snap out of it. Turning to Wei Yingluo, she said, “Aren’t you hungry? Let’s go eat together.”

Wei Yingluo’s stomach had long been growling, but she smiled and replied, “No, I’m not hungry yet. Why don’t you just bring me back something simple? I’ll eat later.”

One should never harbor thoughts of harming others, but one must always guard against being harmed. That untimely remark earlier today had made her realize someone was jealous of her.

Jealousy was like a knife—no one knew when it might strike from behind.

Wei Yingluo suspected someone might tamper with the phoenix-feather threads—perhaps secretly take a few strands. Such precious materials, once missing even a little, had no substitutes.

The best defense, therefore, was to use up the threads before the other party could act: finish the phoenix robe, complete it, and deliver it into Momo Zhang’s hands.

“You… you’re not planning to keep working, are you?” Jixiang frowned. Her gaze shifted to the peacock feather threads, and the earlier delight vanished, replaced by a trace of disgust. “Finishing this phoenix robe will take at least a month. Working at this pace every day—are you trying to kill yourself? Here’s what we’ll do: you go eat first, and I’ll help you embroider for a while!”

Though her intentions were good, Wei Yingluo didn’t dare hand the work over to her. After all, this was the same person capable of turning a phoenix into a barnyard chicken…

“There are only two choices: either let me help you embroider, or come eat with me!” Jixiang shook Wei Yingluo by the shoulders, half domineering and half coquettish. “It’s only the time it takes to burn half an incense stick. Come on, come on!”

“Fine, fine, alright!” Unable to withstand the pestering, Wei Yingluo finally gave in and stood up to leave with her.

Tonight’s meal was exceptionally generous: pumpkin porridge cooked sweet and delicious, refreshing cold cucumber salad, and braised rice-noodle pork—rich but not greasy. Unfortunately, Wei Yingluo’s mind was still on the embroidery workshop. She picked at a few dishes, wolfed down two or three mouthfuls of rice, set her chopsticks down, and said, “I’m full. I’ll head back first.”

“So fast?” Jixiang’s mouth was still stuffed with rice-noodle pork. She stared at the barely touched dishes on the table and mumbled indistinctly, “What a waste… Wait for me! I’ll finish right away!”

Wei Yingluo hurried back toward the embroidery workshop.

Thinking back carefully, that earlier remark had certainly not been casual or meaningless.

“What would happen if something went wrong?”

What would happen if someone deliberately caused her to make a mistake?

   “The kitchen rarely makes rice-noodle pork, and I still have half a plate left uneaten. Hey, why are you in such a rush? The stuff isn’t going to fly away…” Jixiang’s complaints suddenly caught in her throat. She stood frozen at the embroidery workshop doorway, gaping in shock through Wei Yingluo’s shoulder at the scene inside.

Chaos reigned in the embroidery room. Embroidery frames, fabrics, and even the phoenix robe had been carelessly thrown onto the floor. Wei Yingluo stepped forward quickly. On the phoenix robe, which had only just begun to take shape, several large holes had been deliberately cut—dark, gaping mouths that seemed to mock her, as if intent on swallowing her, and her future, whole.

“…This is bad!” Wei Yingluo’s expression changed abruptly. She rushed toward the box that held the phoenix-feather threads.

The candlestick was still in its original place. The box was still in its original place. The lid was open—and inside was pitch black. Nothing remained.

Peacock Feather Thread… Gone

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 24: A-Man

   “Ahem, cough cough…” At night, Aunt Fang tossed and turned for a while before calling out in a hoarse voice, “Bingqing, pour me a bowl of water!”

No response came for a long time.

“Yu Jie!” Aunt Fang tried calling someone else. “Pour me a bowl of water!”

Still no reply.

The two palace maids who used to wait on her every day—who would rush to bring her tea the moment she so much as coughed lightly—had now both vanished without a trace.

“You two ungrateful wretches! After all the trust I placed in you day after day!” Aunt Fang cursed at length, tears finally spilling from the corners of her eyes. “And now… now you won’t even give me a sip of water…”

Before she could finish, a teacup was brought to her lips.

The water was cold and contained no tea leaves at all, but Aunt Fang had been thirsty all night and could no longer afford to be picky. She seized the cup with both hands and gulped it down in one go.

“Had enough?”

“One more… Wait—no!” This wasn’t the voice of Bingqing or Yujie! Aunt Fang jerked her head up, and what met her eyes was a face as pure and lovely as a lotus blossom. Even without any makeup, it possessed seven-tenths of the world’s beauty.

“Now that you’ve had enough, answer a few questions for me.” The young woman smiled slightly.

“Wei! Ying! Luo!” Aunt Fang spat each syllable through gritted teeth. “You actually dare show your face in front of me!”

“If I didn’t come, I’m afraid you wouldn’t even get a mouthful of water,” Wei Yingluo said with a quiet sigh. “How pitiful. In just half a year more, you could have left the palace according to the rules. But now that you’ve been driven out, not only will there be no severance pay, I doubt even your own family would dare take you in.”

At the thought of her miserable old age, Aunt Fang’s vision darkened. Her lips trembled as she spoke: “Why… why did you have to ruin me like this? And that belly of yours… what exactly is going on with your belly…?”

She had tossed and turned over this question night after night, yet never found an answer. If she hadn’t been convinced that Wei Yingluo was pregnant, she never would have dared drag Manager Wu into it.

“Oh, you mean this?” Wei Yingluo gave a light laugh. Her fingers gently stroked her still slightly swollen abdomen, her tone as casual as if she were talking about someone else’s body. “A while back I got some high-grade kaolin clay from the pottery workshop. A small amount won’t kill you, but it causes rapid bloating. I only acted about two-tenths convincingly, yet you all took the bait so eagerly, couldn’t wait to get rid of me…”

A chill ran down Aunt Fang’s spine as she listened.

She said “a small amount” and “no danger to life,” but it was still dirt, after all. People had died eating Guanyin clay before—who could say what would really happen after swallowing it?

Someone who was so ruthless even to herself would only be more merciless to her enemies.

“As for why…” Wei Yingluo flicked her fingers, and a delicate plum-blossom hair-tassel dangled from them. “Do you still recognize this tassel?”

Aunt Fang stared hard. “This… this is the one I lost a while back! You little thief—”

“You’re the thief!” Wei Yingluo suddenly seized Aunt Fang by the hair, forcing her head up so their eyes met. The gentle mask she had worn for so long was completely torn away, revealing to Aunt Fang the true, terrifying face of a vengeful avenger. “Look at my face. Look carefully. See who I really am!”

“You’re Wei Yingluo… No—no, you’re…” Aunt Fang stared in horror at the face before her. “You’re… Wei Yingning!”

Wei Yingluo had always found it strange.

If Jinxiu targeted her out of jealousy, why would Aunt Fang get involved?

Not until she picked up the plum-blossom tassel Aunt Fang had dropped did the truth slowly surface. Before her older sister entered the palace, Wei Yingluo had stayed up all night making that very tassel for her by hand.

“Speak!” Wei Yingluo viciously yanked Aunt Fang’s hair, her expression ferocious, like an unwilling demon who had clawed her way back from hell. “Tell me everything about Wei Yingning! Otherwise I’ll go straight to Manager Wu right now and expose all the cruel ways you’ve mistreated palace maids over the years. When that happens, you won’t just be expelled with a clean record—you’ll be punished far worse!”

“No—no, I’ll talk, I’ll tell you everything…” Aunt Fang broke down in tears and yielded. “When I first heard your name, it sounded a little familiar. Later, when I thought about it carefully… Wei Yingning changed her name as soon as she entered the palace. Everyone called her A-Man…”

By some twist of fate, when Wei Yingning entered the palace, she too had been assigned under Aunt Fang.

The two sisters even did the same things: rising before dawn to embroider different flower patterns onto the handkerchiefs and clothes that belonged to Aunt Fang.

“Later she got caught in a scandal. I seized the evidence and used it to threaten her. I made her hand over all the valuables around her, as well as her private savings, for me to ‘keep.’” Aunt Fang pointed toward the corner. “There—buried under that floorboard.”

Wei Yingning pushed her away, swiftly pried open the wooden plank, and from beneath it pulled out an old, faded blue cloth bundle. When she untied it, there wasn’t even half a copper coin inside—only a couple of worn old clothes and a cracked, now worthless jade pendant.

“So many years have passed… the money… I’ve already spent it all.” Aunt Fang shrank into the corner of the bed, hugging her knees tightly, trembling as she spoke. “Don’t report me. Once I leave the palace, I’ll find a way to repay you.”

Wei Yingluo had no interest in the money. She stared blankly at the old clothes in her hands. They seemed to still carry the warmth of her sister’s body. She cradled them carefully to her chest, as though holding her sister herself…

“You keep saying my sister committed some shameful act.” She turned her back to Aunt Fang, her voice low and heavy. “What exactly was this shameful act?”

“What else could it be… stealing a man…” Aunt Fang muttered.

“Nonsense!” Wei Yingluo whipped around, her voice sharp. “My sister was not that kind of person!”

Aunt Fang’s shoulders shrank inward. “If you don’t believe me, go ask Momo Zhang.”

Wei Yingluo frowned. “Momo Zhang knows about this too?”

Aunt Fang gave her a strange look in return. “Why do you think she’s taken such good care of you? It’s because your sister was the embroidery girl she valued most. If you want to know what happened to A-Man, you shouldn’t ask me—you should go to her…”

Before she could finish speaking, the room was already empty. Only the two doors, violently flung open, remained, creaking back and forth with a lingering squeak.

At the palace maids’ quarters, in Momo Zhang’s residence.

Two teacups sat on the table. Because they had been left for some time, the tea was no longer scalding—just the right temperature to drink. Momo Zhang sat calmly beside one cup, eyes closed in quiet repose, as though waiting for a guest.

Knock, knock, knock.

“The door’s not locked. Come in.” Momo Zhang slowly opened her eyes. “Sit down. Drink the tea first.”

Wei Yingluo stood panting at the doorway. She had run the entire way, her throat burning as though on fire. Only after gulping down a cup of tea did she finally regain enough strength to speak.

“Mama.” She set the cup down and stared at Momo Zhang, who was calmly refilling it for her. “Wei Yingning was my sister.”

The tea was poured once more, the emerald-green leaves swirling and unfurling in the cup, releasing a fresh fragrance. Momo Zhang spoke slowly and deliberately:

“I’ve told you before—do not mention that name. It is taboo.”

Wei Yingluo stared at the teacup being offered to her. After a long silence, she asked softly:

“You already knew. You knew everything. But why… why didn’t you tell me anything?”

“What did you want me to tell you?” Momo Zhang replied. “That A-Man did something wrong and I was deeply disappointed in her?”

“Everyone says my sister did something wrong. But what exactly did she do that was so terrible she had to pay with her life?” Wei Yingluo pushed the teacup aside, threw herself at Momo Zhang’s knees, lifted her small, palm-sized face, and looked up with tear-filled eyes like a wronged granddaughter clinging to her grandmother’s hand, shaking it again and again. “Mama, Mama, please tell me. I beg you!”

Momo Zhang could no longer resist her. She let out a heavy sigh.

“Someone reported it to Chief Steward Wu, saying she had been missing all night and must have been carrying on an illicit affair outside the palace. Her luck was not as good as yours. Chief Steward Wu searched the rockery in the Imperial Garden and found the filthy undergarment she had left behind…”

“My sister was always proper and self-respecting—she would never do such a thing!” Wei Yingluo listened but refused to believe a single word. “She must have been framed!”

“I also wish she had been framed.” Momo Zhang looked down with pity at the girl huddled against her knees. “But she told me herself—no one forced her. It was entirely voluntary.”

The world before Wei Yingluo’s eyes suddenly darkened. Everything seemed to spin. With every word Momo Zhang spoke, another crack opened beneath her feet, and countless hands reached up from the fissures, trying to drag her down into the abyss.

“There was no other choice but to follow palace regulations—death by random beating.” Momo Zhang gently stroked her hair, comforting her. “But her fate was not yet sealed. At that time, the Empress Dowager was ill and did not wish to see blood spilled in the palace. So instead she received fifty strokes of the cane and was expelled from the Forbidden City. How… how has she been since then?”

“…She’s dead.” Wei Yingluo could no longer hold back her tears. “Everyone said she hanged herself out of shame and could not face anyone. But I investigated the wound—there were blue finger marks around her neck. She was strangled to death!”

Momo Zhang was greatly shocked. She suddenly grabbed Wei Yingluo by the shoulders: “Strangled to death?”

Wei Yingluo nodded through her tears, the drops continuing to roll down her cheeks with every movement.

“This isn’t right, this isn’t right…” Momo Zhang had walked more paths in life than most people had eaten meals. In an instant, she spotted the flaw. “If she truly had willingly engaged in illicit relations with someone, how could she have ended up silenced by murder? There must be something more to this matter… something hidden.”

“Yes—that’s exactly why I entered the palace,” Wei Yingluo said, wiping the tears from her face. “I cannot allow my sister to die so unjustly and without explanation. I must find the truth and give her justice! Momo, I beg you—help me, and help her too!”

“How can I help you?” Momo Zhang looked helpless. “So many years have already passed, and there isn’t a single clue…”

A clue?

Wei Yingluo thought for a moment, then suddenly took out a jade pendant from her bosom: “Momo, please take a look at this jade pendant.”

It was one of the few belongings left behind by Wei Yingning. Because Aunt Fang was greedy, it had been hidden under a wooden plank and never discovered during searches. It had remained sealed away in dust for years—until today, when it finally saw the light again.

Momo Zhang took the jade pendant and examined it. Her brows immediately furrowed.

Wei Yingluo had been watching her face closely the entire time and naturally did not miss this change in expression. Her heart stirred at once—three parts excitement and seven parts anticipation—as she asked: “Momo, do you recognize this jade pendant?”

Momo Zhang shook her head and said: “Fucha insignia.”

It was a phrase in Manchu. Wei Yingluo naturally did not understand and could only wait for Momo Zhang to explain.

“I don’t recognize the jade pendant itself, but I do recognize the name engraved on it,” Momo Zhang said slowly. She raised her head, her gaze complicated as she looked at Wei Yingluo. “Fucha insignia—this jade pendant belonged to His Majesty’s childhood friend, his wife’s younger brother, an Imperial Guard—Fucha Fuheng.”

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