Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 12: The Bedchamber

A young eunuch stepped into Yixi Hall and approached Noble Consort Hui. He leaned close and whispered a single sentence in her ear.

“The Emperor laughed.”

Noble Consort Hui nodded. She nodded slightly to the personal palace maid at her side. The maid immediately led the young eunuch away to receive his reward.

Li Yu was not the only one with ears in place—Noble Consort Hui also had informants close to the Emperor. Whenever someone brought her valuable intelligence, she was never stingy with rewards.

For instance, this time: though the other party had returned with only four words, each word was worth a fortune.

“Since the Emperor smiled, his mood must be quite good tonight,” Noble Consort Hui thought to herself. “Perhaps…”

“Your Highness, is there some happy news?” Concubine Jia asked with a smile.

Noble Consort Hui cast her a sidelong glance without betraying any emotion and replied with a faint smile, “Nothing in particular.”

Inside Yanxi Hall, besides her, sat Consort Xian, Concubine Yi, Noble Lady Wan, and the others. The various concubines were seated according to their rank in their respective chairs—not because they had gathered for casual nighttime conversation, but because they were all waiting for the Emperor’s summons.

Tonight was the same as every night: the green-headed name tablets bearing the names of the consorts were sent to the Yangxin Hall. Every one of them waited with bated breath, hoping the Emperor would pick up her tablet.

“The Emperor hasn’t summoned anyone to serve in his bedchamber for quite some days now,” Concubine Jia remarked, tactfully changing the subject when she saw Noble Consort Hui unwilling to elaborate. She sighed. “Surely he won’t spend the night alone again tonight?”

Her words filled everyone with anxiety—even Noble Consort Hui felt a heaviness settle over her heart.

Though she held high rank and great power in the harem—her word was law, and even the Empress sometimes had to defer to her—there was one secret affliction that tormented her: she had no children.

A beauty fades like a flower with each passing year. One day her looks would wither, and the palace was never short of fresh, blooming young beauties in the prime of youth. When that day came, would the Emperor still pick up her green tablet? No, he would not.

“I really wish I had a child…” Noble Consort Hui couldn’t help thinking.

Raising a son for support in old age—that was true among the common people, and even more so in the palace. When her beauty was gone, what else could she rely on? Naturally, only a son of her own flesh and blood. Even if the child were a bit slow-witted, as long as he became a prince, he would be a solid shield for his aging mother. And if fortune smiled and the child was clever, capable, virtuous, and favored by the Emperor… then in the future… even the position of Empress Dowager could be within reach.

Noble Consort Hui gently stroked her disappointing belly, even less inclined now to share the news she had just received with the others. If it were up to her to decide everything, she would wish nothing more than for Li Yu to place only her green tablet before the Emperor.

The waiting made her restless. Toying idly with the tortoiseshell nail guard on her finger, she asked casually, “By the way, why isn’t Consort Chun here?”

“Your Highness,” Concubine Jia replied, “Consort Chun caught a chill and hasn’t recovered yet. She won’t be coming tonight.” She always seemed to know everything.

Noble Consort Hui gave her an extra glance and drawled lazily, “Out of three hundred and sixty-five days in a year, she spends more than half of them sick. Truly a delicate ‘sickly beauty.’”

“Your Highness is right,” Noble Lady Ying quickly seized the chance to curry favor. “Consort Chun’s constitution really is frail. She falls ill every few days. Just yesterday a few of us were discussing going to visit her.”

“Visit for what?” Noble Consort Hui gave a half-smile that was not quite a smile. “If Consort Chun is ill, the Empress will naturally show concern. Why should you or I bother ourselves?”

Noble Lady Ying choked on her words and for a long moment didn’t know how to respond. Only after some time did she manage a feeble, “Yes, Your Highness.”

Seeing her rebuffed, the other consorts grew even quieter, like cicadas in winter. Everyone wanted a protector; everyone wanted to climb onto Noble Consort Hui’s high branch. But her moods were unpredictable, and ordinary people found it nearly impossible to guess what pleased her. One careless misstep and life in the harem afterward would become unbearable.

Noble Consort Hui played with her nail guard a while longer, then suddenly asked, “What about Noble Lady Yu?”

The room fell deathly silent. No one answered for a long moment.

Noble Consort Hui raised her gaze and fixed it on a beauty dressed in green. “Concubine Yi, I’m asking you. Where is your good sister Noble Lady Yu?”

In the harem, not everyone was at each other’s throats. Occasionally there were pairs like Noble Lady Yu and Concubine Yi—though not blood sisters, they were closer than sisters, always supporting and comforting one another.

Concubine Yi steadied herself, rose, and answered respectfully, “In reply to Noble Consort Your Highness, Noble Lady Yu is unwell and has asked for leave…”

“Oh?” Noble Consort Hui rested her head on one hand. “Another one who is ‘unwell’…”

She had asked offhandedly just to pass the time, but unexpectedly, a trace of nervousness flickered across Concubine Yi’s face.

Before Noble Consort Hui could puzzle out the deeper meaning, Concubine Jia laughed and interjected, “Lately the Forbidden City seems to have caught some strange wind—everyone is falling ill one after another. It looks like we should ask the imperial physicians to prescribe some preventive medicine for all of us.”

“And what about Noble Lady Yu?” Noble Consort Hui kept her eyes fixed on Concubine Yi’s face. “Has an imperial physician seen her yet?”

Perhaps aware that her earlier nervousness had drawn attention, Concubine Yi forced herself to calm down and said, “This concubine originally intended to summon the imperial physician to take a look, but A-Rong has been afraid of taking medicine since she was little. It’s only a slight cough, nothing serious, I’m sure. A few days of rest in bed should see her recover…”

While she spoke, Noble Consort Hui kept her eyes fixed on Concubine Yi’s face. Her gaze was like a saw—cold, sharp, and gleaming, as though in the next moment it would slice open her skull to see what thoughts were hidden inside.

Just then, the door opened, and the chief eunuch, Li Yu, entered from outside.

Noble Consort Hui’s attention was instantly drawn to him. Together with the other consorts present, she turned longing eyes toward Li Yu.

Dressed in plain blue robes, a whisk draped over his elbow, Li Yu saluted the consorts. Then, under their hopeful gazes, he uttered the two words they least wanted to hear:

“All Dismissed!”

Those two words shattered the hope in the consorts’ eyes. As the saying goes, the greater the hope, the greater the disappointment—and no one was more disappointed than Noble Consort Hui. Unable to hold back, she asked,

“Why is His Majesty resting alone again?”

Li Yu smiled apologetically. “Noble Consort Your Highness, memorials have piled up like mountains. His Majesty must review them through the night. He did not wish for the your highnesses to wait in vain today.”

Noble Consort Hui scoffed with icy disdain, immediately rose, and strode toward the door. Such rude behavior was nothing unusual for her. Watching her departing figure, Concubine Yi subconsciously let out a breath of relief. Together with the other consorts, she respectfully called after her,

“This concubine respectfully sees Noble Consort Your Highness off!”

Night had fallen. As the palace women returned to their quarters one by one to sleep, inside the palace maids’ dormitory, a heavy disciplinary ruler suddenly came down with a crack.

“Ah!”

“It hurts so much!”

“Who is it?!”

Cries of pain rose one after another. The young palace maids jolted awake from their dreams, ready to lash out at whoever had disturbed them—only to open their eyes and see Aunt Fang’s face, cold as frost. Instantly, their anger melted away like snow. One by one, they scrambled down from the kang like frightened quails and chorused respectfully,

“Auntie.”

Aunt Fang held the disciplinary ruler in her right hand. It was thick and long, more like a chair leg than anything else. She slowly tapped it against her left palm, her gaze sweeping coldly across each maid’s face until it finally settled on Jixiang.

“How are you sleeping?” she asked icily.

Jixiang was bewildered. She lifted a hand to wipe the drool still at the corner of her mouth and gave an awkward smile. “How else would I sleep? Just lying down, of course.”

“Who permitted you to lie flat on your back?” Aunt Fang snapped. “Sleeping supine like that is cursing Heaven and blaspheming the gods—you’ll invite divine punishment! There are no such undisciplined slaves in this palace! Everyone, get back on the kang and sleep properly—again!”

The maids exchanged glances. Then Aunt Fang’s ruler lashed out at Jixiang: “Hurry up!”

Chaos erupted. The palace maids scrambled frantically back onto the kang. With Aunt Fang’s earlier warning still ringing in their ears, none dared lie flat anymore. Some lay on their sides, others face-down—but they still received a thorough beating from Aunt Fang.

“Your leg—you planning to stretch it all the way to Shenwu Gate?!”

“And you—keep your left hand tucked at your waist!”

“You don’t even know how to sleep properly? You deserve to be beaten!”

The heavy ruler fell like rain—knocking one on the hand, another on the leg. The younger ones had tears welling in their eyes but didn’t dare cry out. They could only bite their lower lips hard and obey her instructions.

Only when every single one of them was lying on their side—looking, at a glance, like identical clay figurines fired from the same mold—did Aunt Fang finally lower the ruler. Coldly, she said,

“Remember this position. Even in your sleep, don’t forget it! Leave!”

With that, Aunt Fang led her two senior palace maids out.

After she was gone, soft, stifled sobs finally rose in the room—muffled, fearful of being heard by Aunt Fang, leaking out as though through clenched fingers.

“Yingluo…” Jixiang rolled up her sleeve, eyes brimming with tears, and said to Wei Yingluo, “Auntie hit me so hard it hurts. Can you look—has the back of my hand turned purple?”

There was no lamp lit in the room. By the thin moonlight filtering through the window, Wei Yingluo couldn’t clearly tell whether the back of her hand was bruised blue or purple. And even if it was—what could be done? The palace hierarchy was strict. It was only natural and right for senior palace maids to beat lowly ones like them. There was nowhere to seek redress.

“Yingluo.” Jixiang quietly scooted her bedding a little closer to Wei Yingluo—like a child who had been beaten outside and was now seeking comfort and warmth from family. “Can you hold me while we sleep?”

Wei Yingluo gently stroked her cheek and gave her a tender smile. “No.”

Seeing that smile, Jixiang had been absolutely certain she would agree. She never expected the complete opposite answer. She froze for a moment, then asked, “Why not?”

Wei Yingluo’s gaze was clear and cool, yet bright. With quiet certainty, she said to Jixiang, “Because Auntie will still come.”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 11: The Consorts’ Painting

   Crash!

A wrist adorned with emerald prayer beads swept sharply to the right. A precious white-glazed vase painted with the Eight Immortals was knocked from the table and shattered instantly into worthless fragments on the floor—three years’ worth of a rare tribute piece, destroyed in a heartbeat.

Concubine Jia entered just in time to witness the scene. A few shards even bounced to her feet, startling her into stepping back. With a trace of fear, she asked, “Noble Consort Your Highness, what happened? Why such a terrible temper all of a sudden?”

The interior of Chuxiu Palace was resplendent with gold and splendor. Especially the treasure shelf, laden with all kinds of gold, silver, jade, and rare antiques: the jade pillow once used by Xi Shi, the pipa once held by Wang Zhaojun, the moon earrings once worn by Diaochan, and the colorful plate once used by Yang Guifei to hold lychees. Now, all of them lay scattered and broken on the floor—swept down mercilessly by Noble Consort Hui in a fit of rage.

“None of your business! Get out! Get as far away from this palace as you can!” she shouted furiously.

Concubine Jia had no choice but to retreat. Outside the door, she pulled aside a palace maid and asked in a low voice, “What on earth happened?”

The maid whispered, “You don’t know, my lady? When the Noble Consort first returned, she was perfectly fine. But then His Majesty bestowed upon her a painting called ‘Lady Ban Declines the Imperial Carriage.’ The moment she saw it, she flew into a rage!”

Concubine Jia pondered for a moment, then pushed the door open again and entered with a smile. “Your Highness, I heard His Majesty bestowed upon you a painting of ‘Lady Ban Declines the Imperial Carriage’? Congratulations, congratulations!”

“Congratulations for what?” Noble Consort Hui’s face turned livid with anger. “Emperor Cheng of Han invited Lady Ban to ride in the same carriage with him, but she refused on the grounds that it was improper and against etiquette—thus becoming a model virtuous consort of her generation. He’s warning me—what a truly ‘proper’ consort should be like!”

Concubine Jia: “Your Highness, you’ve misunderstood…”

“It’s all because of her!” Noble Consort Hui smashed another jade plate, then paced back and forth across the room, her face twisted with anxiety and hatred. “The moment she entered the palace, she became the exalted Empress of Great Qing. Her annual stipend is a thousand taels—I get four hundred less. Changchun Palace uses gold vessels; Chuxiu Palace is only fit for silver. She has full ceremonial honor guards; I only get the lesser procession. Even the festival rewards—I receive far less! Fine, I can endure all of that. But His Majesty! Just now I was standing right there—a living, breathing person—and he pretended not to see me. His eyes, his heart, were filled only with her. How can this be endured? Bestowing this wretched painting is his way of saying I’ve overstepped, that I’ve bullied his beloved Empress!”

“Your Highness,” Concubine Jia hurried over, softening her voice to soothe her. “You’ve misunderstood His Majesty.”

“Oh?” Noble Consort Hui raised an eyebrow and glanced sideways at her. “Go on then—tell me, what exactly have I misunderstood about His Majesty?”

“What His Majesty bestowed was not limited to just this one painting, the Lady Ban Declining the Imperial Carriage,” Concubine Jia said. “Over at Zhongcui Palace, it was the Xu Hou Presenting the Memorial painting. At Qixiang Palace, it was the Jiang Hou Removing Her Hairpins. Even the Empress received one—a Tai Si Instructing Her Sons.”

Noble Consort Hui was momentarily stunned. “She received one too? Tai Si Instructing Her Sons—what does that mean?”

“In my humble opinion, this is merely a passing whim of His Majesty’s,” Concubine Jia replied with a smile. “He has gifted portraits of virtuous consorts and empresses from ancient times, hoping that all the ladies of the inner palace will take them as models to emulate. Why should you be angry over such a thing?”

Hearing that even the Empress had received a similar painting, Noble Consort Hui’s anger immediately subsided by more than half. She settled back into her chair. A palace maid hurriedly brought her a cup of tea; she accepted it, took a sip, then curved her beautiful lips into a charming, flirtatious smile directed at Concubine Jia.

“You truly have a clever tongue—everything you say is exactly what this palace likes to hear.”

Concubine Jia lowered her eyes demurely. “This concubine is unworthy, but I am willing to share the burdens of Your Ladyship.”

“Keep talking,” Noble Consort Hui instructed. “I do not believe His Majesty would act without purpose. In your view, what deeper meaning lies behind this gesture of his?”

Living in the palace meant one had to observe more, listen more, and think more. When a superior coughed once, those below had to discern from that single sound whether the master was thirsty or ill—whether to bring tea or fetch medicine. The Emperor might have merely gifted a few paintings, but that was more than enough to keep their recipients pondering until dawn.

Concubine Jia thought for a moment before replying, “His Majesty bestowed a total of twelve paintings. This concubine speculates that, taken together, these twelve paintings represent His Majesty’s ideal image of the perfect consort. For example, the Xu Fei Offering Direct Remonstrance is a wish that consorts emulate Consort Xu Hui of the Tang—boldly speaking the truth and remonstrating directly when Emperor Taizong made a mistake. And the Empress Cao Valuing Agriculture…”

“Empress Cao Valuing Agriculture?” At the sound of that title, Noble Consort Hui burst into loud laughter. The jeweled hairpins on her head swayed and sparkled with the motion. “Who was unlucky enough to receive that rubbish? Is His Majesty telling her to go work the fields?”

“It is a hope that the recipient will emulate Empress Cao of Emperor Renzong of Song—living simply and frugally, and placing importance on agriculture and sericulture,” Concubine Jia explained with a smile. “It’s really not so bad. This concubine has heard that someone even received the Jieyu Facing the Bear.”

“Oh my, my stomach!” Noble Consort Hui clutched her belly, rocking back and forth so hard she nearly fell off her chair from laughing. “And who got that one? Is His Majesty advising her not to be human anymore, but to go up the mountain and become a blind bear?”

“It is presumably a wish that she emulates the former Lady Feng Jieyu of Emperor Yuan of Han—who, when the emperor was in danger, risked her own life to protect him,” Concubine Jia explained.

After going through all twelve paintings one by one, Noble Consort Hui rubbed her aching stomach and said thoughtfully, “So in other words, His Majesty wants us consorts to be both strikingly beautiful and virtuous and filial, frugal in managing the household, and—when necessary—capable of tearing apart fierce tigers with our bare hands and wrestling bears unarmed?”

“Precisely,” Concubine Jia said with a smile. “Your Ladyship is truly clever—you understand at once.”

Noble Consort Hui gave a soft snort of laughter, then leaned back in her chair with an air of faint disinterest. Tilting her head to gaze at the ceiling above, she murmured, “Is this supposed to be a woman… or some kind of divine being?”

Tonight was destined to be a sleepless one.

Some tossed and turned; others were lost in anxious thought. And within the Yangxin Hall, the most exalted person in the realm had likewise not yet retired. He remained beneath the candlelight, still reviewing memorials.

The side of his face illuminated by the candle flame was gilded with a warm golden hue, like a sacred statue in a temple—solemn, majestic, lofty and remote. How many palace hearts willingly offered everything, just hoping for a single downward glance from him.

“Your Majesty.” The chief eunuch who had served him for many years, Li Yu, stepped forward holding a tray. “Her Majesty the Empress has sent a midnight snack. You should rest for a while as well.”

On the tray was a bowl of rock-sugar snow-pear soup. Hongli accepted it and took several sips; the sweet coolness soothed his heart. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes as if resting, and asked lazily, “Has anything interesting happened in the palace lately?”

“What would Your Majesty like to hear?” Li Yu asked with a smile.

“Anything at all,” Hongli replied languidly. “Tell me something amusing from the inner palace lately—something to wake me up a bit.”

Though the inner palace was vast, in truth it was small. There were only a handful of masters; the truly numerous were the palace maids and eunuchs. And as the head of all eunuchs, Li Yu commanded countless eyes and ears. Many secrets were not secrets at all in his presence. To him, the enormous inner palace was like a wall that was constantly permeable to drafts.

This was one of the reasons Hongli valued him so highly—with him in place, Hongli could always know the state of the inner palace at any moment.

“If we speak of the inner palace,” Li Yu said with a smile, “all the young mistresses have recently been troubled by the very same matter.”

“Oh?” Hongli didn’t even open his eyes, his hands clasped across his chest. “What is it?”

“The source of the matter lies in those paintings Your Majesty bestowed…” Li Yu briefly described the situation on Noble Consort Hui’s side. If Noble Consort Hui had been present, she would surely have been terrified to the core—because something that had only just happened in her own palace was being recounted by Li Yu in exhaustive detail less than an hour later, down to the exact expression on her face as she spoke. “…That is the state of affairs in Chuxiu Palace. Noble Consort Hui threw quite a tantrum over that ‘Lady Ban Declines the Imperial Carriage’ painting.”

“When does she ever not throw a tantrum?” Hongli remarked indifferently. “What about the others?”

“On Consort Xian’s side, her mother came to visit and urged her to whisper more ‘pillow talk’ to Your Majesty, so that her father could be promoted to a higher position. But Consort Xian dismissed her with the reason that the inner palace must not interfere in politics.” Li Yu sighed. “Her mother left in a huff; Consort Xian did not stop her. She simply had the painting Your Majesty bestowed placed on an altar, lit incense, prayed, and murmured: First, may my lord live a thousand years; second, may this concubine remain ever healthy; third, may we be like the swallows on the beam, meeting year after year without parting.”

Hongli opened his eyes for a moment, then closed them again. “…And the Empress?”

“The Empress seems to be in rather low spirits,” Li Yu replied. “Though she said nothing aloud, two of her personal palace maids were quietly discussing among themselves that…”

He hesitated, trailing off halfway. Hongli, growing impatient, pressed: “What did they say?”

“They said… that by bestowing this painting, Your Majesty is reminding the Empress not to remain sunk in gloom over what happened three years ago, neglecting everything.” Li Yu cautiously glanced at Hongli’s expression as he spoke.

Three years earlier, the second prince born to the Empress had suddenly passed away.

The bond between mother and son had been deep; ever since, the Empress had been nearly broken. Only this year had she begun to recover somewhat. To outsiders, she and Hongli still appeared deeply affectionate, respectful and harmonious as ever. But Li Yu knew that the incident had nonetheless planted a seed of estrangement between them.

Sure enough, Hongli’s brows furrowed slightly—he clearly did not wish to discuss the matter further.

Li Yu promptly wrapped up that topic and, feigning surprise, ventured: “Your Majesty, this servant dares to ask—when these twelve palace admonition paintings are strung together, do they represent Your Majesty’s hopes for the consorts?”

Hongli gently shook his head. He finished the remaining half-bowl of rock-sugar-and-snow-pear soup in one go, then picked up the memorial again—though now his attention seemed somewhat distracted, lacking the earlier focus.

Seeing that his mind was not on the memorial, Li Yu boldly continued speaking. Smiling ingratiatingly, he said: “Your Majesty, this servant may be only half a man, but I’ve seen plenty of women here in the Forbidden City! A woman can be exquisitely beautiful, with a graceful, enchanting figure, skilled in poetry, music, singing, and playing instruments—that already counts as rare. But to demand that she embody every virtue under heaven… where on earth could one find such a creature?”

“I simply think they have too much idle time,” Hongli said without lifting his head, eyes fixed on the memorial in his hand.

Li Yu was stunned. “Ah?”

“Idleness breeds trouble,” Hongli said with a slight smile. The smile carried a hint of cunning that softened the solemn dignity of his features, making the divine statue in a temple seem to have descended to the mortal world. “By bestowing these palace admonition paintings on the inner palace, I’ve given them something to occupy their minds for quite a while.”

The consorts of the rear palace would probably rack their brains and still never guess that the true reason behind these twelve paintings of ancient virtuous consorts was this. Even Li Yu was momentarily dumbfounded before murmuring: “Occupy their minds for a while… but how much use can that really be?”

Hongli burst into hearty laughter. He rolled up the memorial in his hand and playfully tapped it against Li Yu’s forehead in an intimate gesture: “Because most of them are just as dim-witted as you are—they’ll only think I’m reminding them to be virtuous, gentle, and dutiful. So, in order to live up to my expectations and become the model consort who pleases me, they will naturally have to behave themselves for a few days—and that means I get a few days of peace and quiet!”

“Ah?” Li Yu gaped. “Your Majesty… You’re toying with them!”

Loud laughter echoed through the Yangxin Hall. The two imperial guards standing watch outside the door exchanged bewildered glances, unsure what on earth had made the Emperor laugh so heartily.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 10: Suppression

   “Go on then.” Wei Yingluo raised her hand and pointed at the door. “I’ll wait right here for you. Hurry up and go.”

The door stood wide open; the night wind whistled in from outside. The group of palace maids who had just been shouting about reporting her now had feet glued to the floor as if coated with fish glue—they couldn’t move an inch.

“You really think we don’t dare?” Jinxiu said to the maids on either side of her. “Let’s go!”

But this time, no one echoed her.

Though everyone was jealous of Wei Yingluo, what they felt even more strongly was fear and wariness.

After all, just a few hours earlier, one palace maid had been expelled because of her. Before the sun had even set, the girl had left the palace clutching a blue cloth bundle, sobbing bitterly, never to set foot inside the palace gates again for the rest of her life.

Who would willingly follow in her footsteps?

Wei Yingluo’s gaze slowly swept across each of their faces. In her heart she sneered: Just a bunch of fence-sitters—whichever way the wind blows strongest, that’s the side they lean toward. When Jinxiu seemed powerful, they leaned toward her; now that they thought she was hard to deal with, they leaned toward Wei Yingluo instead.

Her eyes returned to Jinxiu’s face. Calmly she said:

“You think I’m just showing off? I was only helping Jixiang. You could have helped her too—any one of you could have helped her. But none of you chose to do so. In the end, the one who got praised was me. You only remember that Chief Steward Wu praised me—why don’t you reflect on why you yourselves did absolutely nothing?”

“Helping someone cheat and you still think you’re in the right?” Jinxiu retorted sharply. “Lucky for you I was kind-hearted and didn’t expose you on the spot. What you two were embroidering wasn’t any brocade pheasant and peony picture at all—Jixiang had clearly been stitching a goldfish earlier…”

“Enough!” Wei Yingluo cut her off coldly. “I have no interest in discussing this with you any further. Just remember this, I; Wei Yingluo: respect me one foot, and I’ll return ten feet. Whatever you do to me today, I will repay you a hundredfold later! Fine—go on then. All of you, go! Go to Auntie!”

“You!” Jinxiu was already starting to feel afraid inside, but she still refused to back down verbally. Her voice rose, fierce and shrill: “You really think I don’t dare?”

Yet Wei Yingluo suddenly began to laugh. Still laughing, she walked straight toward Jinxiu.

“You—what are you doing?” Jinxiu was so startled she retreated several steps. When Wei Yingluo hooked her arm, she struggled instinctively. “What are you doing? Where are you taking me?”

“To see Auntie, of course.” Wei Yingluo smiled sweetly, radiant as a flower, and began pulling her toward the door. “If we wait any longer, Auntie might already be asleep.”

Jinxiu stared in shock. She had thought Wei Yingluo was only bluffing—never imagined she would actually dare do it. Unable to stop herself, she asked: “You—you’re really not afraid Auntie will punish you?”

“Afraid? Shouldn’t you be the one who’s afraid?” Wei Yingluo said with a cheerful smile. “Do you still remember how that other palace maid was driven out earlier? ‘The master hates nothing more than foolish people who stir up trouble and gossip’—Chief Steward Wu had only just finished saying that, and you’ve already forgotten?”

Jinxiu shuddered at the words. Once again the desolate image appeared in her mind: that palace maid clutching her blue cloth bundle, tears streaming down her face as she walked away under the slanting rays of the setting sun.

“I—I didn’t stir up any trouble tonight. This whole mess was caused by you—everyone saw it…” Jinxiu said hurriedly.

“And then what?” Wei Yingluo looked at her with pity. “Do you think the managing auntie has so much free time that she’ll slowly sort out right from wrong for you? The few of us live in the same room. If even the slightest incident happens, we’ll all be punished together. We might even all get expelled at once—do you believe that?”

“I… I don’t believe it…” Jinxiu’s voice grew even weaker.

“Don’t believe it? Then let’s go try it right now.” Wei Yingluo, however, only smiled more calmly and composedly. She tugged on Jinxiu’s arm and started walking out the door.

Jinxiu was terrified. Instinctively, she grabbed the bedpost with her other hand and refused to let go. The other palace maids exchanged glances for a moment, then one by one rushed over—some clutching her arms, others wrapping their arms around her waist. One of them hurriedly closed the door. They all began speaking at once, trying to persuade her:

“Yingluo, don’t do this. It’s already so late—disturbing Auntie’s rest? Do you really not want to live anymore?”

“Exactly! It’s just a quilt. Why make such a big fuss and drag it up to the higher-ups?”

“Hey, come to think of it, this whole thing started because of Jinxiu. Jinxiu, just apologize to Yingluo and this will all be over, right?”

Like weeds bending with the wind, they were terrified that if things really escalated as Wei Yingluo had threatened, everyone would suffer together. One after another, the palace maids turned their criticism toward Jinxiu. Under the weight of so many accusing fingers and voices, Jinxiu’s face flushed red and then turned pale. Finally, swallowing her resentment, she bowed her head to Wei Yingluo and apologized:

“I know I was wrong, Yingluo. Let go—I won’t mention this matter again.”

“Just an apology and it’s as if nothing happened?” Wei Yingluo smiled. “Do you really think I’m that easy to dismiss?”

Jinxiu felt utterly wronged. Tears welled up uncontrollably in her eyes as she shrieked:

“Then what else do you want? You want to slap me a few times? Fine—go ahead…!”

Bang bang bang!

Several heavy knocks on the door interrupted her.

“What’s all this noise in the middle of the night?” Aunt Fang’s voice came through the door. “Open up!”

The palace maids immediately froze in terror. Their eyes all turned toward Wei Yingluo, unconsciously treating her as their leader, hoping she would tell them what to do.

“Coming right away!” Wei Yingluo called out. Then she lowered her voice and said to the others, “What are you waiting for? Hide the water bucket and clean up the water on the floor. I’ll handle the rest.”

At her command, everyone sprang into action. The maids hurriedly shoved the bucket under the bed. Unable to find a mop or cloth in time, two of them simply knelt on the ground and used their handkerchiefs to wipe up the water stains. Once they finished, Wei Yingluo loosened her hair bun a little, adopting the sleepy, disheveled look of someone who had just crawled out of bed. She opened the door and said:

“Auntie, it’s so late—why are you here?”

“With all this racket, I could hear it from ten miles away. How am I supposed to sleep?” Aunt Fang stepped inside and swept her gaze across the faces of the palace maids. “Come on, what’s going on? Why aren’t any of you sleeping at this hour? What were you arguing about?”

“Nothing,” Wei Yingluo said calmly. “I accidentally knocked over the teapot just now and soaked the bedding. Everyone was just helping me figure out what to do.”

“How can you be so careless?” Aunt Fang’s face grimed as she scolded her. “Tomorrow, take it out and dry it in the sun yourself. For tonight, just flip the bedding over and cover yourself with the dry side. And remember—no more noise, or everyone will be punished together. Understood?”

All the palace maids hurriedly replied: “Yes!”

With a loud slam, the door closed again.

Inside the room, the palace maids collectively let out a long sigh of relief. Once the tension drained away, exhaustion set in. Many of them simply climbed straight into their beds.

Jinxiu did the same. Her attempt to make trouble for Wei Yingluo had backfired spectacularly—she had nearly gotten her own face slapped. Instead of reflecting on her own actions, she now harbored a deep grudge against Wei Yingluo because of tonight’s events…

“Someday I’ll make you pay,” she thought bitterly.

Just then, a hand reached over from the side and dragged her quilt off the bed. Startled, she turned and stared at the other person.

“Wei Yingluo, what are you doing with my quilt?”

Wei Yingluo casually tossed the soaking-wet bedding onto her.

Then she repeated exactly what Aunt Fang had said earlier: “Tomorrow, take it out and dry it in the sun yourself. For tonight, just flip the bedding over and cover yourself with the dry side.”

“You wish!” Jinxiu reached out to snatch her quilt back. “Give me my quilt! Wait… where are you going?”

Wei Yingluo didn’t resist at all. The moment Jinxiu grabbed for it, she let go and handed the quilt back. Then she headed straight for the door.

“I’m going to find Auntie.”

The other palace maids immediately objected. They turned furious glares on Jinxiu:

“Have you had enough yet?”

“Do you want to drag us all down with you?”

“Give her the fucking blanket! Give it to her fuck now!”

Jinxiu had no choice. She bit her lip so hard it nearly drew blood, and with extreme reluctance, she handed over the bedding in her hands. “Here, take it!”

“Put it on the bed and spread it out properly,” Wei Yingluo said, standing with her hands behind her back, speaking in a lazy drawl.

You think I’m your servant? Jinxiu was so furious she felt dizzy, her chest heaving for a long moment before she grudgingly climbed down from the kang, tossed the bedding onto Wei Yingluo’s bed, then hurried back to her own spot. She pulled the damp quilt over her head and curled up. The quilt trembled slightly—whether she was secretly crying underneath, no one could tell.

Wei Yingluo slowly returned to the kang as well. A quick sweep of her peripheral vision showed several people hastily averting their eyes.

With Jinxiu as such a vivid example, these people would likely behave themselves for a while. They wouldn’t dare cause her trouble again anytime soon.

“Yingluo,” came a soft whisper after the candles were extinguished. Jixiang pressed close to her side, murmuring into her ear. “You’re so amazing.”

“When you’re too kind, people bully you. When a horse is too gentle, people ride it. Sometimes, if you don’t want to be bullied, you have to be a little ruthless,” Wei Yingluo replied lazily.

Jixiang nodded half-understandingly, unclear whether she had truly taken the words to heart.

Not long after, gentle snores reached her ears. Wei Yingluo glanced over and saw the young girl already fast asleep. With a helpless smile, she gently tugged the quilt back up over her shoulders. Such a child—even in sleep she couldn’t stay still; the blanket had slipped down to her waist. She’d catch a cold in the night chill if she wasn’t careful.

“I’m really envious of you,” she murmured, lightly touching the other girl’s slightly chubby, baby-fat cheek—as if touching the carefree version of herself from long ago.

The night was deep, yet she tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Eventually, giving up, she simply lay there staring at the pitch-black ceiling, thinking to herself:

I’ve finally entered the Embroidery Workshop… but regarding my sister’s matter, where should I even begin?

   The Embroidery Workshop was too far from the Emperor. She couldn’t see him. Only the embroidered pieces she worked on might possibly reach his eyes—but what use was that? She hadn’t come here to offer up her craftsmanship. She had come to seek justice for her sister.

“Don’t rush. Take it slow,” she told herself. “First, I need to gather information… There are two kinds of people who know the most: those who have been in the palace a long time, and those with high status. I need to find ways to get close to both types…”

The ones who had been here longest: Aunt Fang.

And the ones with high status…

An image floated into Wei Yingluo’s mind—a wrist wrapped in emerald prayer beads.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 9: Dispute

Aunt Fang led the group of young maids into the palace maids’ quarters.

“Once you pass the sweeping and embroidery assessments, you will officially become palace maids.” Aunt Fang swept her stern gaze over everyone. “From now on, you live here and are under my supervision.”

The girls looked around at the place that would be their home from now on. The room was bright and clean, with tables and chairs all in place. On the wall hung a painting of Guanyin, the Bodhisattva of Mercy, with gentle features, holding a pure vase from which a few fresh green willow branches emerged. It hardly looked like servants’ quarters—more like the boudoir of a modestly wealthy young lady in the common world.

Especially eye-catching were the two plates on the table: one holding pea-yellow cakes, the other containing red bean cakes. The skill of the imperial kitchen was far beyond anything found in ordinary shops outside the palace. Each piece was small, delicate, and translucent. Linglong stepped closer and saw that the tops were even carved with tiny birds, their feathers exquisitely detailed, almost like works of art.

Jixiang immediately began to salivate. Her family was not well-off; they had sent her into the palace precisely so there would be one less mouth to feed at home. Having gone hungry many times, these two plates of sweets attracted her far more than the jade bead bracelet on Noble Consort Hui’s wrist. Her eyes fixed longingly on the treats as she asked, “Auntie, are these prepared as our midnight snack?”

“They are prepared for you,” Aunt Fang replied. Just as joy began to appear on Jixiang’s face, she added, “But you may only look. You are not allowed to eat them.”

Jixiang froze. “Why not?”

“You entered the palace to serve others, not to play the young mistress,” Aunt Fang said coldly. “Your hands and feet must be quick and nimble, and your appearance must be neat and clean. Above all, there must be no foul odor on your body. If a Noble Lady catches a whiff of it, that would be grave disrespect. You would suffer, and I would not escape blame either. That’s why you absolutely cannot touch fish or meat. At meals, you should eat only to about eight-tenths full, so you don’t keep running to relieve yourselves.”

The implication was clear: they weren’t even allowed to eat their fill at meals, let alone dream of having a midnight snack.

“It’s getting late. You all should sleep,” Aunt Fang said, scanning the room. Her gaze lingered especially long on Jixiang’s face. She narrowed her eyes and continued, “I’ll come by tomorrow morning. If anything is missing from those plates…”

Jixiang guiltily lowered her head.

The others did the same, standing there meekly like wooden statues until Aunt Fang finally left. The moment she was gone, the “statues” sprang to life, immediately scrambling for the beds.

“I’m sleeping here!”

“No way, I saw this spot first!”

“Just because you saw it means it’s yours?”

Jixiang was a woman of action. While the others were still arguing over a spot by the window, she had already leaped onto the kang and claimed the best position in the room. Turning back with a grin, she called out, “Come on!”

“Hey!” Linglong thought she was being called and felt a rush of warmth—thinking this fellow townsman was quite considerate. She started to step forward, only to see Jixiang waving frantically and shouting, “Yingluo! Yingluo, come quick—I saved you the best spot!”

Linglong’s foot froze mid-air. Embarrassment flooded her. She felt as though every pair of eyes in the room was on her. Her face burned red with shame.

Wei Yingluo took in the whole scene and felt a touch of helplessness. Jixiang had a good heart, but she was too straightforward and blunt—completely unaware that her innocent words could unintentionally offend someone. She’d have to talk to her about it later. But for now, after a long, exhausting day, Wei Yingluo was tired too. She carried her bundle up onto the kang. Jixiang immediately took the bundle from her hands and gave her an affectionate smile.

“Yingluo, thank you so much for today.”

“It was nothing. You’ve already thanked me a hundred times,” Wei Yingluo replied. She glanced around the room. “By the way, is everyone in this room a newly arrived palace maid?”

“Yes, why?” Jixiang looked at her curiously.

“Nothing.” Wei Yingluo smiled a little. “I was just thinking… it would be nice if there were one or two older palace sisters who entered before us. We could ask them about the rules here and avoid accidentally breaking any taboos later on.”

“You’re right,” Jixiang said, completely trusting her words. She let out a soft sigh and her eyes drifted back to the two plates of pastries on the table. “If I weren’t afraid of breaking rules, I could finish both plates by myself…”

A sharp, mocking snort rang out—distinctive in its venom. Both girls turned toward the sound and saw Jinxiu standing beside them at some point. She sneered at Wei Yingluo.

“You really believe everything she says? I see what this is. You’re not asking about rules at all—you’re just trying to curry favor with Auntie, aren’t you?”

If Wei Yingluo had retorted sharply, it might have been fine. But Jinxiu’s string of sarcasm didn’t even earn her so much as a hostile glance.

“It’s getting late,” Wei Yingluo said, not even bothering to look at her. Turning to Jixiang, she continued, “Let’s make the bed and rest early.”

“Mm!” Jixiang nodded obediently like a little sister, immediately helping her prepare the bedding. She even deliberately pulled their pillows close together so they could sleep side by side. If they couldn’t fall asleep, they could still whisper to each other in the dark.

Jinxiu suddenly felt like a clown talking to herself. She didn’t dare turn around—afraid she’d see faces full of mockery. In a panic, she grabbed Wei Yingluo’s arm and snapped,

“Say something, will you!”

“What are you doing?” Jixiang pushed her away unhappily, shoving her back from Wei Yingluo. “You’re so annoying. Sister Yingluo is exhausted today. Can’t you let her rest?”

“You don’t have to defend her like that,” Jinxiu sneered coldly. “You think she really helped you out of kindness? Let me tell you—she only did it to show off in front of Chief Wu. You’re just a stepping stone to her. We’re all just stepping stones to her!”

“You’re talking nonsense!” Jixiang was hot-tempered. She jumped down from the kang at once, rolling up her sleeves as though ready to fight.

“Am I wrong?” Jinxiu had no intention of actually fighting this reckless hothead—someone this impulsive wouldn’t know how to hold back, and her delicate body couldn’t take it. She quickly redirected the conversation toward Wei Yingluo. “If you don’t believe me, ask her yourself. Was all that grandstanding today really for anyone other than herself?”

Wei Yingluo gave her a cold, indifferent glance. She could see right through this girl’s little scheme.

If she denied it, Jinxiu would call her a liar. If she admitted it, she’d fall straight into the trap. So she simply ignored her again, unfolded the neatly folded quilt, slipped inside, and spoke in a tired voice muffled by the bedding:

“Jixiang, come here.”

“Here she comes.”

Jixiang, like a little pet summoned by her master, immediately put Jinxiu out of her mind. She kicked off her shoes and socks and burrowed into the bedding.

“Fine, you won’t talk, is that it?” Seeing herself ignored once again, Jinxiu finally lost her temper. She rushed to the table, where—besides two plates of snacks—there sat a plump teapot decorated with ink-bamboo patterns. She grabbed the teapot, strode back to the window by Wei Yingluo’s bed, and dumped the entire pot of tea over Wei Yingluo’s quilt.

“Ah!” Jixiang leaped out from under the covers and shouted at Jinxiu, “Jinxiu, what are you doing?!”

“This is what happens when she steps on us to climb up.” Jinxiu laughed smugly, then turned back to the others and asked, “Tell me, ladies—did I do the right thing or not?”

Laughter rose in waves. The palace maids chimed in one after another:

“She deserved it—just what she deserved!”

“Always showing off!”

“Exactly—she made the rest of us look like dirt!”

“She’d better learn her lesson from now on. No more rushing to stand out like that!”

Wei Yingluo slowly crawled out from under the bedding. She touched the quilt with her hand and felt how heavy and sodden it had become—wet straight through from the outside to the innermost layers. With the night cold and dew thick, sleeping under such a drenched cover would surely make anyone ill.

When the city gate catches fire, the fish in the moat suffer. Jixiang slept right beside Wei Yingluo, so her own quilt had also caught some of the splash—though fortunately only a small corner was wet; the rest was still usable. She shot a fierce glare at the group of maids who were gleefully piling on, then tugged at Wei Yingluo’s sleeve and whispered, “Sister Yingluo, come sleep over here. The two of us can share one quilt.”

Wei Yingluo pinched the edge of her soaked bedding and stared at it for a long moment. Then she suddenly looked up and smiled at Jixiang. “Wait just a moment.”

With that, she tossed the wet quilt aside, slipped her embroidered shoes back on, stepped down from the bed, pushed open the door, and walked out of the room.

The laughter in the room died instantly. Everyone exchanged glances; tension and guilt were plain on every face.

Linglong—who had not spoken up for Wei Yingluo earlier—could no longer hold back. She frowned and complained to Jinxiu, “Ai, why did you have to provoke her? I’m telling you, she’s definitely gone straight to Auntie to report this.”

Jinxiu felt a flicker of unease, but she was quick-witted. Her eyes darted around, then she raised her voice to address the room: “Hasn’t she already stolen enough limelight today? If she dares go and complain, we have so many mouths here—does she really think she can win against all of us?”

The maids’ eyes lit up. Yes—that made sense.

A single mouth can be drowned out by many; three people can make a tiger appear where none exists. As long as everyone in the room insisted that Wei Yingluo had soaked her own quilt and was now trying to frame Jinxiu, wouldn’t that settle it?

There were so many of them and only one of her. She had no relatives or close allies here. Why would Aunt Fang believe her over all of them?

“Jinxiu, you’re so wicked!” Jixiang stamped her foot in fury. “I hate you!”

“Am I the wicked one, or is your dear ‘Sister Yingluo’ just naturally detestable?” Jinxiu covered her lips and laughed, then turned to the women around her. “What do you all think?”

“Of course it’s Wei Yingluo!”

“I’ve been annoyed with her for ages.”

“She’s just an ambitious little schemer who only knows how to drag everyone else down…”

Laughter and curses filled the room in a chaotic din. Jixiang desperately tried to defend Wei Yingluo, but two fists can hardly block four hands—let alone so many mouths. And Jixiang was never good with sharp words; she was no match for this group’s talent for sarcasm and mockery. In the end she only managed to work herself into a rage—her small face flushed crimson, her chest heaving as she gasped, “You—you people…!”

“What about us? Go on, say it!” Jinxiu shoved her hard in the chest, pushing her back onto the wet quilt. Jixiang, furious beyond words and on the verge of lunging at her, suddenly—

Splash!

A full bucket of cold water came pouring down from behind Jinxiu.

“Ahhh!!” Jinxiu shrieked, instantly drenched like a drowned rat.

She whipped around and glared at Wei Yingluo, who stood there holding the now half-empty bucket. “What are you doing?!”

Wei Yingluo smiled slightly. Still holding the remaining water, she walked slowly through the room, calmly pouring it over every bed in turn until every quilt was soaked.

The room erupted in screams. One by one the palace maids leaped from their beds, cursing in a chaotic chorus:

“Yingluo, have you gone mad?!”

“Too much!”

“Yeah, we only said a couple of words about you, and you actually do this to us?”

“Let’s go! We’re all going to find Auntie together!” Jinxiu raised her hand to wipe the water from her face. She was soaked through and through; water droplets kept sliding down her sideburns and the hems of her clothes. She shot a vicious glare at Wei Yingluo, then strode toward the door. “I’d like to see whether Auntie can still tolerate you after you’ve done something like this!”

Seeing the situation escalating to this point, Jixiang grew anxious: “No, no—everyone, don’t go! Yingluo was just impulsive for a moment; she didn’t mean it! Yingluo, say something quickly!”

Wei Yingluo loosened her grip. The now-empty wooden bucket slipped from her hand and rolled clattering across the floor until it stopped at Jinxiu’s feet.

“Let them go,” Wei Yingluo said with a half-smile that wasn’t quite a smile. “The ones who’ll end up unlucky are them, not me.”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 8: Cheating

The selection of palace ladies was nearing its end, yet in the embroidery workshop, the investigation into the matter of cheating had only just begun.

“I saw it with my own eyes,” one palace maid said, pointing at Wei Yingluo. “Jixiang’s handkerchief was stained with blood. It was Wei Yingluo who swapped the embroidery frame and finished stitching it for her! The palace has long had rules: if anyone cheats, both parties will be expelled together!”

“Oh?” Wu Shulai cast a glance over. “Is that so?”

Wei Yingluo looked at the smug palace maid and found it rather laughable.

She had originally thought the one who would report her would be Jinxiu. Who would have imagined that the person who jumped out in the end was someone completely unrelated.

How ridiculous. If Jinxiu did such a thing, it would still be understandable—fewer competitors meant she would become one of the top figures in the embroidery workshop. But what was this palace maid? Her appearance and embroidery skills were both mediocre. Even if Wei Yingluo were driven out, she herself would never rise to prominence. Moreover, no one likes a backstabber; all the other palace maids would now be wary of her. What benefit could she possibly gain from this? Or was jealousy truly such a powerful force that it could drive someone to harm others without gaining anything for herself?

Thump.

Jixiang dropped to her knees on the ground, her voice trembling with sobs: “I… I…”

“What’s with all this ‘I… I…’? Stammering like that—you have no sense of propriety at all,” Momo Zhang scolded coldly. “The chief steward is asking you a question—why aren’t you answering?”

“It was me!” Jixiang gritted her teeth, preparing to shoulder all the blame herself. “It’s all because of me…”

“Pfft.”

A light chuckle interrupted her words. Everyone turned to look, wanting to see who was so bold as to laugh out loud at a moment like this.

…It was Wei Yingluo.

Wu Shulai had originally thought her to be steady and mature, and he had held some favorable impression of her. But now, seeing her act so heedless of the situation, his expression cooled. He asked, “What are you laughing at?”

“Laughter at those who are ridiculous.” Wei Yingluo walked over to Jixiang’s embroidery frame. “Who said we were cheating? Look.”

She placed the brocade rooster embroidery she was holding next to Jixiang’s peony embroidery—and suddenly everything became clear, as if one had passed through dark willows and bright flowers to reach yet another village.

“This is…” Wu Shulai’s eyes widened in astonishment.

Jixiang’s peony embroidery was magnificent and splendid. If one had to point out a flaw, it would be that it lacked a bit of vitality. In contrast, Wei Yingluo’s brocade rooster was lifelike. If one had to name a flaw, it would be that—aside from the single touch of red on the rooster’s comb—everything else was of a single color. At first glance it looked fine, but the longer one looked, the more monotonous the colors seemed.

Yet when the two were placed side by side, they fit together perfectly.

The peony lent its regal beauty to enrich the colors of both pieces; the brocade rooster lent its proud bearing to elevate the spirit of both works. No—it wasn’t two separate embroideries at all…

“This was originally one single piece,” Wei Yingluo said with a smile, “called the Peony and Brocade Rooster Diagram. Because it took too long to complete, Jixiang and I worked on it together.”

“That’s not true at all!” the accusing palace maid hurriedly protested. “You two… you…”

“Allow me to ask one question,” Wei Yingluo said with a smile to her. “When I handed the embroidery frame to Jixiang, had the peony portion been fully embroidered yet?”

The palace maid opened her mouth, but no words of rebuttal came out.

Although everyone worked in the same embroidery workshop, they sat at some distance from one another. The only people who truly knew the full sequence of events were the three seated closest to Wei Yingluo: Jixiang, Jinxiu, and Linglong. This palace maid had probably overheard parts of their conversation but didn’t know the whole story. She almost certainly didn’t know that what Jixiang had originally started embroidering was not a golden rooster, but a golden carp.

As soon as Wei Yingluo probed, she immediately figured out the other party’s depth. Seeing her speechless appearance, Wei Yingluo instantly understood the situation in her heart and boldly continued:

“By the same logic, when Jixiang handed me the brocade pheasant embroidery, it also only had a few sparse stitches, right? Since both are unfinished embroidery pieces, how can this be called cheating?”

Everyone was stunned into silence, then all turned to look at Momo Zhang together.

“This…” Momo Zhang said somewhat awkwardly, “There has never been such a precedent in the palace. Chief Steward Wu… what do you think?”

Chief Steward Wu glanced at her and thought to himself: No wonder this old woman has spent her whole life stuck in the embroidery workshop—she can’t even see through such a small matter.

Unlike Momo Zhang, Chief Steward Wu had crawled and rolled in the palace for decades and had seen every kind of sordid thing. After hearing just a few sentences, he had already guessed the whole cause and effect of the incident and clearly understood that Wei Yingluo had indeed been cheating.

But so what?

“Good!” Wu Shulai suddenly burst into laughter and said to Wei Yingluo with meaningful intent, “Truly clever thinking!”

Wei Yingluo’s eyes flickered. She lowered her head and said, “Thank you for the compliment, Chief Steward Wu.”

She knew in her heart that her actions probably couldn’t be hidden from this powerful chief eunuch, but she had no idea how he would deal with her.

Wu Shulai looked at her with considerable appreciation. Cheating? That was nothing. What he valued was that this girl had a clear mind—while cheating, she had already prepared a countermeasure in advance. If someone reported her, she could immediately turn the tables.

A child this intelligent had limitless prospects. At the very least, she would not end up like Momo Zhang, wasting her entire life in a tiny embroidery workshop, accompanied only by embroidery frames, needles, and threads.

“People the palace can use must talk less and do more,” Wu Shulai decided to give her a small bit of face before she rose to prominence, and at the same time deal with certain idiots. “Also… the master hates nothing more than foolish people who stir up trouble and gossip…”

His gaze flicked toward the palace maid who had reported the matter, and he said in a calm voice:

“Drag her away. Remove her name.”

The informing palace maid never imagined things would develop this way. She stood there dumbfounded for a moment. Only when two young eunuchs grabbed her arms did she snap back to reality. Her knees buckled and she knelt on the ground, crying:

“Chief Steward Wu, I know I was wrong! I won’t speak carelessly again, Chief Steward Wu!”

Wu Shulai smiled and shook his head.

A fool is a fool—she didn’t even understand why she was being punished.

   Was she being punished for speaking carelessly? No. The real reason she was punished was that she hadn’t done the job properly—if you want to frame someone, you must prepare thoroughly. Even if you can’t completely ruin the person, you absolutely cannot get yourself dragged down in the process. If she didn’t even understand this basic principle, how could she hope to survive in the palace?

   Letting her leave the palace early was actually doing her a favor. With that kind of mind, if she stayed, she would either waste away into an old white-haired palace maid or be swallowed whole by someone else.

   The crying of the informing palace maid quickly faded away. She was dragged out by the two young eunuchs. This parting was likely forever—henceforth, palace and outside world would never meet again.

“It’s getting late. I should go,” Wu Shulai said. Before leaving, he glanced at Wei Yingluo once more and smiled. “Today four of the girls did outstanding embroidery work. From now on, they may stay in the embroidery workshop.”

“Yes.” Momo Zhang respectfully followed behind him. “Chief Steward Wu, allow me to see you out.”

After their figures disappeared, Jixiang finally lost all strength. Her whole body collapsed against Wei Yingluo:

“It’s finally over…”

With a casual sweep of her peripheral vision across the varied gazes around them, Wei Yingluo said indifferently:

“Yes… temporarily over.”

After seeing Wu Shulai off, it was already close to evening. The sun was setting in the west, the afterglow spreading everywhere. The setting sun dyed Qianqing Gate red. The gate-guarding eunuch stood at the entrance and shouted loudly:

“Lock up the money and grain!” (meaning: lock the gates / secure the premises)

The slow, heavy sound of the gate closing rang out. The gradually shutting doors sealed the last ray of afterglow outside.

At the same time, the doors of the embroidery workshop were also closing. Wei Yingluo was the last one to leave. So many things had happened in one day, and on top of that she had almost single-handedly embroidered two pieces. Her mind and body were utterly exhausted, her face slightly pale.

“Are you okay?” Jixiang leaned close to her, asking with some concern. “If you’re tired, just lean on me while we walk.”

Wei Yingluo pursed her lips into a small smile, did not refuse the kindness, and gently rested her shoulder against the other’s, just like the brocade pheasant and peony embroidery they had worked on together earlier—supporting and leaning on each other, mutually dependent.

She walked at the very back of the long line of green-clad palace maids, like a flock of weary birds returning to their nests, following behind the leader, Aunt Fang. This Aunt Fang was a senior palace maid who had served in the palace for many years and was responsible for training this group of newly arrived young maids. She led the group through a gradually darkening corridor. On both sides of the passage, the shadows of trees swayed, and the clusters of fallen tree shadows dyed the smooth stone slabs a faint inky color.

Suddenly, Aunt Fang stopped in her tracks, her voice somewhat urgent: “Quick, all of you, turn your backs!”

With that, she herself was the first to face the wall.

The young maids didn’t understand why, but they followed her example one by one, turning around to face the wall and standing still.

However, there were always one or two disobedient ones whose curiosity stirred and whose eyes wandered—like Jinxiu. She secretly turned her head to look and saw, at the far end of the corridor, two red lanterns floating into view, then four, then six…

A procession of palace maids filed out in two neat lines, each holding an exquisite large crimson lantern. The red candlelight shining through the lantern paper fell onto the ground, spreading out like a magnificent crimson carpet. A splendid palanquin passed over this red carpet, carrying a stunningly beautiful woman. She seemed a little tired and was resting with her eyes closed, half-reclining on the palanquin. The string of jade beads wrapped around her wrist swayed gently with the movement of the palanquin, clinking softly against one another—clear and melodious, like large and small pearls falling onto a jade plate.

Jinxiu’s eyes followed that string of beads, unable to tear herself away, until Aunt Zhang slapped her across the face. Only then did she startle back to reality and realize the procession had already passed.

“What are you staring at?” Aunt Fang said coldly. “Do you not want to live anymore?”

Jinxiu raised her hand to touch her now burning cheek, unable to tell whether the heat came from the pain or from the fire in her heart. She gazed dazedly in the direction where the procession had disappeared: “So that’s a consort’s ceremonial escort…”

Aunt Fang spat. “Ignorant thing. Only the Empress is entitled to a full ceremonial escort. What just passed was Noble Consort Hui—that’s called a ‘processional honor guard.’”

Linglong leaned over curiously and asked, “What about the other consorts?”

Aunt Fang gave her a sideways glance. “Those are called ‘inspection escorts.’ But even then, only the principal consort of a palace is allowed to use one. The rest of them? Don’t even dream of it!”

The newly arrived palace maids were full of curiosity. For a moment, questions flew back and forth in a chatter. Though Aunt Fang wore an impatient expression, she occasionally answered a few, showing off her knowledge and experience as a senior palace maid.

Wei Yingluo listened quietly without drawing attention, committing every question the maids asked and every answer Aunt Fang gave to memory. She believed these were all clues—and as long as she gathered enough of them, she would be able to… find the person who murdered her sister!

“Auntie,” Jixiang beside her, however, had no such heavy thoughts. Like the other young maids, her questions were equally ordinary. “Where was Noble Consort Hui going just now?”

Aunt Fang sneered. “Where the mistress goes is none of your concern! Stop staring—your eyes are about to fall out of their sockets. You don’t have that kind of fate anyway. Let’s go.”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 7: Distinction of High and Low

   “Time’s up!”

Whether finished or not, all the palace maids stopped their hands at once. Like candidates on the day the imperial exam results are posted, they looked toward Momo Zhang with a mixture of anticipation and dread.

Normally Momo Zhang would have been the one to judge the quality of the embroidery, but with Wu Shulai present, she decisively deferred the authority. With utmost respect she said to him:

“Please, Chief Steward Wu, give your esteemed evaluation.”

“How could I overstep my bounds? You should do it,” Wu Shulai replied with a smile.

“To receive even one or two comments from Chief Steward Wu would be the greatest fortune for these palace maids,” Momo Zhang said ingratiatingly.

“Very well then.” Chief Steward Wu stroked his smooth chin and laughed. “Since there’s nothing urgent at the moment, I’ll take a look.”

Momo Zhang immediately turned to the maids:

“What are you waiting for? Thank Chief Steward Wu at once!”

“Thank you, Chief Steward Wu!”

Wu Shulai raised a hand to quiet their voices, then walked forward with his hands behind his back, appraising each maid’s work one by one.

Though it was called “appraising,” most of the time he merely nodded or shook his head. Only when he reached Jinxiu did he actually speak:

“Hm. Exquisite needlework. Very good.”

Those mere few words were enough to set Jinxiu far above all the previous nods and head-shakes. She couldn’t hide her delight and was just about to seize the chance to exchange a few more words with Wu Shulai when she heard a soft “Oh?” of surprise. Looking up, she saw that Wu Shulai had already passed her and stopped in front of Linglong.

“This is…” Wu Shulai said, visibly astonished.

Jinxiu stole a glance and thought sourly to herself: It’s just a stray cat—what’s so special about it?

Linglong had embroidered a cat peeking out from among foliage. The leaves were sparse, red and white mingling together; a tortoiseshell tabby with vivid stripes poked its head from the undergrowth, its expression adorably naive. Especially the fur on the cat—light and shadow interwoven, shades varying from deep to pale—at first glance it looked utterly alive, as though a real cat had been sewn onto the hoop.

In terms of needle technique alone, it was hardly inferior to the “Haitang in Spring Slumber” pattern in Jinxiu’s hands. Then Linglong turned the handkerchief over with a smile:

“Reporting to Chief Steward Wu, this is double-sided embroidery.”

On the reverse side of the handkerchief was… another cat.

The same peeking out from the bushes, the same innocent and adorable expression—even the fur on its body was identical to the cat on the front.

“Good, good.” Wu Shulai handed the embroidery frame to Momo Zhang. “Take a look—what do you think?”

Momo Zhang squinted at it. Having worked in the embroidery workshop for years, her eye was far sharper than Wu Shulai’s. She immediately noticed that the stitches weren’t fine enough, and there were several places where the colors had gone wrong—clear signs of rushed work. But she pointed out none of it. Instead she smiled and said:

“Since Chief Steward Wu says it’s good, then it must certainly be good.”

Jinxiu’s face grimed at the words. She had only earned one “good,” while Linglong had received two—one from Chief Steward Wu and another from Momo Zhang. And yet it was nothing more than a village stray cat—how exactly was it better than hers?

Wu Shulai did not linger long in front of Linglong. He held high position and great power; he had seen every kind of exquisite thing there was to see. The reason he had said “good” twice was simply because, among this batch of newly entered palace maids, this double-sided embroidery was probably the best…

No.

Wu Shulai stopped in front of Jixiang, staring fixedly at the embroidery in her hands without speaking for a long time.

His silence placed immense pressure on Jixiang. As the seconds ticked by, her breathing grew heavier and heavier. Even her knees began to weaken, as though she might collapse into a kneel before him at any moment.

“This peony is vivid and lifelike, capturing both form and spirit—good, good, good!” When Chief Steward Wu finally spoke again, he uttered three “goods” in a row. Then he delivered his verdict with finality: “In all my years in the palace, I have rarely seen such extraordinary needlework. This deserves first place—truly deserves first place!”

Two “goods” had already made Jinxiu change color. At the third, she scoffed with icy disdain:

“Chief Steward, why don’t you take a look at Wei Yingluo’s embroidery first? I see she’s been the slowest of all—surely hers must be the best!”

Wu Shulai frowned slightly. Momo Zhang caught the shift in his expression and immediately scolded:

“Who permitted you to speak!”

Jinxiu paled and lowered her head.

“No harm done,” Wu Shulai said mildly. “Which one is Wei Yingluo?”

Everyone turned in unison toward Wei Yingluo.

Wu Shulai walked slowly over to her, his expression calm and detached:

“What did you embroider? Let me see.”

“Yes.” Wei Yingluo lifted the overturned embroidery frame. A brilliantly colored picture of a golden pheasant burst into view.

The half-finished golden carp that Jixiang had been working on had, in the span of barely half an incense stick, been transformed by her into a majestic golden-feathered pheasant. The pheasant gazed toward the sun, its long tail feathers spread gracefully behind it, each plume shimmering with golden sunlight. The entire piece radiated wealth and splendor—especially that single vivid stroke of red on the crest, bright as fresh blood, serving as the crowning touch that brought the whole work to life.

And that crowning touch had once been the very flaw.

Only a handful of people present knew the truth: the reason the crest was so vividly blood-red was because real blood had been worked into it. The blood Jixiang had earlier wiped onto the fabric had been cleverly repurposed by Wei Yingluo and turned into that perfect splash of red on the pheasant’s comb.

The others, unaware of the secret, simply admired the technique and the auspicious meaning. Even the ever-critical Momo Zhang, upon seeing the piece, could not help but praise:

“Such ingenious thought, and excellent stitching too. This year’s palace maids are truly full of talent!”

Jinxiu was burning with resentment. She had deliberately steered Chief Steward Wu toward Wei Yingluo—not so that she would receive special favor from the Noble Lady. Her thin lips parted; she was just about to step forward and make an accusation when Linglong beside her suddenly grabbed her arm.

“What are you—” Jinxiu began, but before she could finish, a little palace maid not far away suddenly spoke up:

“Chief Steward! Wei Yingluo is cheating on someone else’s behalf!”

The words fell like a thunderclap. The entire embroidery workshop fell deathly silent.

…

Mountains have their heights, waters their depths—people are always competing for superiority. Palace maids were no different, and neither were the candidates.

“Naran Chuxue, daughter of Vice Minister Nalan Yongshou, aged sixteen!”

Meanwhile, in the Yanhui Pavilion of the Imperial Garden, the selection process continued.

“Speaking of which, that little palace maid… what was her name again?” Naran Chuxue paused in thought. Then she told herself, “Now is not the time to be thinking about that. Naran Chuxue—it’s your turn.”

She collected her somewhat scattered thoughts, lowered her eyes obediently, and walked forward to stand before Hongli. With a graceful curtsy, she said, “This humble daughter, Naran Chuxue, pays respects to Your Majesty.”

Perhaps his mood had been soured by the earlier incident, for Hongli’s expression was extremely cold at this moment, tinged with a faint trace of impatience. He stared at Naran Chuxue without speaking. That silence pressed down like dark clouds, causing everyone in the hall to hold their breath.

“What’s the matter with your ears?” Hongli suddenly asked.

Everyone’s hearts trembled in fear. He had asked a similar question earlier: “What’s the matter with your feet?”

After that, Wuya Qingdai had met with disaster. Even now, long streaks of her blood still remained on the stone steps outside the door; palace servants were hurriedly rinsing them away with clear water, lest the sun grow strong later and attract flies and insects.

Naran Chuxue naturally sensed that the atmosphere was wrong. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t afraid, but she was different from others—the more critical the moment, the calmer she became.

“In reply to Your Majesty,” she stood poised and composed in place, answering, “My father, Ama, has always said that for a woman to wear three earrings in one ear and step into flower-pot shoes is a rule handed down by our ancestors. To abandon it one day and imitate the Han women by wearing only one earring per ear would be to forget our ancestors.”

The selection girls entered in groups of five. Four others had come in with her for selection. As soon as she spoke, three of them unconsciously lowered their heads, while the fourth couldn’t help but raise her hand to touch her own earlobe—where only a single earring dangled.

Among the five, only Naran Chuxue wore three precious earrings in one ear. Red, blue, and white gleamed together, making her stand out at a single glance.

Earlier someone had asked her why she dressed this way; she had only smiled without answering. It turned out she wasn’t refusing to answer—she was waiting for the right occasion, the right person, to give her reply.

“Well said!” Hongli was indeed greatly pleased. He slapped his hand on the table. “The Great Qing has been in the Central Plains for many years, and the old Manchu customs are gradually fading. I told them to study Han literature and understand Confucian rites, but I never told them to forget who they are!”

With that, he nodded toward the chief eunuch.

The chief eunuch understood immediately and announced in a loud voice: “Retain her token!”

Naran Chuxue curtsied again, her posture as elegant and composed as ever—neither arrogant nor restless, neither elated nor anxious, carrying a calm self-possession.

“Lu Wanwan, daughter of Lu Shilong, Deputy Minister of the Court of the Imperial Entertainments, aged sixteen!”

With Naran Chuxue shining like a pearl before her, Lu Wanwan suddenly appeared rather small and ordinary by comparison.

She was too timid, too nervous—so much so that for a moment she even forgot how to walk properly. She advanced toward the throne step by awkward step, moving her arms and legs in unison. Before she could even lift her head to reveal the stunning beauty that could captivate time itself, Hongli had already let out a soft chuckle.

“I still have memorials to review,” Hongli said as he rose. “I’ll be going now.”

“Your Majesty!” Empress Fucha quickly spoke up. “What about here?”

Hongli stretched lazily, walking past Lu Wanwan with an absent-minded air and tossing out a single sentence: “Empress, you handle it. I trust your judgment!”

With that, he strode away without looking back, leaving everyone exchanging bewildered glances.

Noble Consort Hui lazily raised her hand toward the side; a maid immediately supported her as she rose. “Since His Majesty has left, it seems there’s nothing worth watching. This consort will take her leave first.”

Without waiting for the Empress to respond, she gracefully departed.

Empress Fucha let out a soft sigh and turned toward Lu Wanwan with a gentle, kindly expression.

She carried with her the natural dignity of one fit to be mother to the realm. Especially her gaze—so warm it was like a mother looking upon her own children. Under such a gaze, Lu Wanwan let out a long breath and gradually calmed down.

The change in her expression fell into Naran Chuxue’s eyes, and a thought rose unbidden in her mind: She is not my rival…

Lu Wanwan possessed the foremost beauty among all the selection girls, yet she had no idea how to make use of her greatest advantage—instead letting opportunity slip right past her. Moreover, she was timid by nature, like a dodder vine, always seeking a great tree to cling to for shelter from wind and rain.

She never considered where this place was.

This was the rear palace.

To rely too heavily on one person was to hand one’s own fate entirely into their hands.

“She is not my opponent… Then who would be my true opponent?”

As Naran Chuxue thought of this, a figure in cyan suddenly appeared in her mind’s eye.

Cyan—the color of the new palace maid’s attire.

“Why would I think of her?” Naran Chuxue couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, saying to herself in her heart, “I am a selected selection girl who has left her name on the board, while she is merely a lowly palace maid. She doesn’t even have the qualification to stand on equal footing with me—how could she possibly have the chance to compete with me for superiority?”

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

   …What just happened?

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

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

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

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

“Someone—drag her out!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm… mmmph…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what if that little palace maid knew?

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

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

…

“Yingluo.”

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

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

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

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

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

Ahem! Wu Shulai suddenly gave a light cough.

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

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

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

“…And some who still need proper discipline.”

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

Wu Shulai shook his head behind her and walked away.

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

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

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

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

Either way, this embroidery piece was ruined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jixiang stared in shock. “You…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then she froze.

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

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 5: The Imperial Selection

   What happened in the Imperial Garden was like a small pebble tossed into the sea: it created a tiny splash, then quickly returned to calm. The important people turned a blind eye—even if they saw it, they wouldn’t care.

There were far more important matters waiting for them to see and attend to.

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” In the courtyard of Changchun Palace, the palace maid Ming Yu hurried over, trying hard to catch her breath as she spoke. “The palace audience selection is about to begin soon. You should start preparing!”

The vast courtyard bloomed only with jasmine flowers.

Layer upon layer of pale white petals dotted among deep green leaves. In their midst stood a woman in plain clothing, holding golden shears, attentively trimming the branches.

A breeze passed through, stirring only the rustle of leaves and the steady snip-snip of the shears.

Had she not heard, or had she heard and chosen to ignore it? Ming Yu wasn’t sure. She could only wink anxiously at a graceful palace maid standing nearby.

This maid was also dressed in plain clothes and held a copper watering can. At first glance she seemed utterly unremarkable, like an ordinary new sweeping maid fresh in the palace. In reality, however, she was Erqing—the senior palace maid who personally attended the Empress. Her status and weight among the palace maids were second to none.

So what Ming Yu dared not say, she could say. What Ming Yu dared not do, she could do.

Stepping forward, Erqing spoke softly: “Your Highness?”

Snip. A jasmine branch was severed. The woman in plain clothes turned, holding the flower in her hand. In an instant the entire garden’s spring splendor dimmed before her. The boundless orchids seemed to exist solely to set her off.

Truly a secluded orchid in an empty valley, standing alone and apart from the world.

It was none other than the current Empress, Lady Fucha.

“Today the selection girls are all vying to outshine one another. What is there for me to prepare?” Empress Fucha closed her eyes, lowered her head to gently inhale the fragrance of the jasmine in her hand, and gave a soft smile. “I’d rather stay here and tend to the flowers.”

Truly, one could worry a monkey to death before the emperor himself felt anxious. Ming Yu scratched her head and ears in frustration, like a monkey that couldn’t reach the banana: “How can that be? If Your Highness doesn’t go, won’t you just be handing the opportunity straight to that woman in Chuxiu Palace?!”

“Ming Yu, watch your tongue!” Erqing was like the Monkey King’s taming monk—one displeased glance was enough to make Ming Yu fall silent at once. Then, turning to Empress Fucha with a gentle expression, she continued, “However, Your Highness, the palace audience selection is a major event. You really ought to at least go and take a look. Otherwise, if the Empress Dowager finds out, she will surely blame you again for neglecting palace affairs!”

As the saying goes, once you enter the palace gates it’s as deep as the sea—and so it truly was. In the sea the big fish eat the small; in the palace one head presses down another. The only one who could make Empress Fucha set down her flower shears was the Empress Dowager.

“Sigh.” Empress Fucha rose helplessly, patting the dust from her skirt. “So young and already so nagging. Fine then, let’s go take a look.”

Ming Yu’s face lit up with joy; she practically leaped three feet into the air. “Your Highness! This servant will immediately help you with your dressing and adornment!”

With that she turned and dashed off, vanishing in the blink of an eye, leaving only dust swirling in her wake.

“What a little monkey,” Empress Fucha said helplessly, shaking her head.

“She really is a monkey. And this—” Erqing stepped forward and carefully removed the small jasmine pom-pom tucked beside the Empress’s temple.

The Empress was momentarily startled, then let out a soft, amused laugh.

The venue for the selection was set at Yanhui Pavilion in the Imperial Garden.

Though they called it “dressing and adorning,” in truth it was merely changing into slightly cleaner clothes and washing the soil from her hands with clear water. Yet even appearing completely bare-faced, Empress Fucha still outshone every woman present by several degrees—first because of her beauty, and second because of her position.

However, some people did not place much importance on her position at all.

“Noble Consort Hui has arrived!”

With a loud announcement from the eunuch, a heavily made-up consort entered Yanhui Pavilion with graceful, measured steps, supported by her maids.

Some women should never wear heavy makeup; the thicker the cosmetics, the more vulgar they appear—for example, Empress Fucha.

But some women must wear heavy makeup and dazzling ornaments, with jade pendants clinking and tinkling at every step—like the one standing before them now: Noble Consort Hui. On her ears hung two lustrous Eastern pearls that radiated brilliance; around her wrist coiled a jade bracelet strung with eighteen emerald beads and two tourmalines. Most eye-catching of all was the enormous “big wing” headdress atop her head, shimmering with pearls and jewels, inlaid with silver kingfisher-feather butterflies and ruby peonies—both rendered so lifelike that as she moved, the butterflies seemed to flutter and the peonies to tremble.

On anyone else, so much jewelry would have turned the wearer into nothing more than a walking jewelry stand; people would see only the ornaments and not the person beneath. But Noble Consort Hui was different. With the bearing of a peony—peerlessly magnificent—she forcefully subdued the overwhelming blaze of gems and gold, making them mere accents to her own splendor.

She swayed gracefully forward and performed the squatting curtsy before the Empress. Both her movements and her voice carried an undisguised air of perfunctory courtesy:

“This concubine respectfully greets Your Majesty the Empress. May Your Majesty be in peace and health.”

Erqing’s face remained expressionless, but Ming Yu was already scowling with anger. With just one word from Empress Fucha, this monkey could have leapt forward and slapped her with a full set of ear-piercing blows—yet Empress Fucha merely smiled and said,

“Rise.”

The word “rise” had scarcely left her lips before Noble Consort Hui had already stood up, walked to the seat at the Empress’s lower side, and sat down. She accepted the teacup a maid offered, took a delicate sip, set it aside, and then turned her attention outward to comment on the selection girls:

“This year’s crop of selection girls is quite good quality. There are even a few who are delicately pretty and pleasing to the eye.”

The Empress’s expression remained calm and even:

“Our Great Qing’s selection of selection girls is naturally different from previous dynasties. We choose girls from distinguished families, virtuous and capable, to serve beside the Emperor. Appearance is of no consequence.”

Noble Consort Hui covered her lips and laughed. That laugh was like a peony in full bloom—nation-shaking beauty, heavenly fragrance. Not only men but even women could not help but be moved by her voluptuous charm:

“Even so, we cannot select a bunch of crooked melons and split dates. Wouldn’t that distress His Majesty when he looks upon them? It would also affect the appearance of the imperial heirs, would it not?”

What seemed like ordinary conversation was in truth laced with hidden blades. All around, people fell deathly silent; the selection girls lowered their heads and stared at the floor, hardly daring to breathe.

Though orchids and peonies each have their own charm, when two flowers vie, one must lose. To everyone’s surprise, Empress Fucha appeared to yield a step. She spoke in a mild and peaceful tone:

“No matter how beautiful the selection girls may be, none can compare to Noble Consort’s peerless splendor that outshines them all.”

Seeing her retreat, Noble Consort Hui grew even more triumphant. A silvery bell-like laugh spilled from her lips as she continued:

“Your Ladyship overpraises me; this concubine is utterly unworthy. But the peony is indeed the king of flowers, the nation’s supreme beauty—not just anyone can claim that title!”

“You—” Ming Yu’s fury flared; she was about to shout “How presumptuous!” when the Empress raised a hand to stop her. Though a million unwillingnesses filled her heart, she could only clench her fists and step back.

“His Majesty arrives!”

A loud announcement cut short their confrontation. Moments later, a tall and strikingly handsome man entered with his hands clasped behind his back. Compared to the others, his attire was closer to Empress Fucha’s—neither wore excessive jewelry. The deep indigo everyday robe gave him an air of crisp simplicity and quiet elegance; the sleeves even carried a faint scent of ink, as though he had come straight from his desk after handling a stack of memorials.

This was none other than the reigning sovereign: His Majesty, Hongli.

“This concubine (this slave) respectfully greets Your Majesty. May Your Majesty be in peace and health.”

“Rise.” Hongli strode quickly to Empress Fucha, reached out to help her up, and a trace of gentleness appeared on his handsome face. “The Empress need not stand on such ceremony.”

The previous greeting had been addressed to everyone; these words were spoken only to her.

Noble Consort Hui stared expressionlessly at their joined hands, a flicker of jealousy passing through her eyes.

Hongli did not notice that fleeting jealousy. To him, this selection of selection girls was little more than a routine duty. He helped Empress Fucha sit, then casually took a seat at the imperial desk himself, one hand propping up his cheek as he gave a negligent order:

“Begin.”

“Yes!” The chief eunuch sang out, “The daughter of Suchuoluo Daojin, Minister of the Court of Judicial Review—Suchuoluo Yuli, fifteen years of age.”

A tall, slender selection girl hurried forward.

Hongli narrowed his eyes and looked at her for a moment before saying,

“The wind is so strong today. It must be quite tiring to stand, isn’t it?”

“N-no, it is not tiring at all,” the selection girl quickly replied.

But her words were met with a light laugh from Noble Consort Hui:

“Indeed, Your Majesty—this one really is too thin. A single gust of wind could blow her away.”

Though Hongli said nothing more, the corners of his mouth curved in a faint smile.

The chief eunuch was an expert at reading faces. Seeing that smile, he immediately declared:

“Bestow a flower.”

A young eunuch promptly stepped forward with a silver tray bearing flowers. The thin, tall selection girl had no choice but to accept one and withdraw.

“Next: the daughter of Gan Tanglin, Director of the Imperial Stables—Gan Ruyu, sixteen years of age.”

A plump candidate, so round she had practically developed into a perfect sphere, stepped forward.

Hongli took one look and immediately burst out laughing. “How many meals a day do you eat?”

Since it was the Emperor asking, she could hardly refuse to answer. The plump candidate blushed deeply and said, “Three meals.”

“More than that,” Hongli said. “At least five, right? Otherwise how could you achieve such a figure? You’re almost catching up to the sumo wrestlers the palace keeps for entertainment.”

The palace no longer needed any more sumo wrestlers—and the inner palace certainly didn’t.

“Bestow the flower!” the chief eunuch immediately announced. “Zhangjia Ruhong, daughter of Zhangjia Sixian, Prefect of Shuntian Prefecture, aged fifteen.”

A candidate with skin as dark as charcoal stepped forward in small, hurried steps.

Already two candidates had been eliminated. The remaining selection girls trembled with nervousness, terrified that Hongli would speak to them next.

“Do you spend every day soaking up the sun slathered in soy sauce?” Yet he spoke again.

The question was so bizarre that the dark-skinned candidate let out a startled “Ah?” before shaking her head blankly. “No… this humble subject has lived deep in the inner chambers and rarely goes out to sun herself…”

“Haha!” Noble Consort Hui laughed aloud. “His Majesty is saying your face is black! Oh my, look closely—there are even spots on it!”

The dark-skinned candidate flushed crimson from the laughter, tears welling in her eyes. After receiving the bestowed flower, she turned and fled. Behind her came the chief eunuch’s announcement:

“Next—Wuya Qingdai, daughter of Wuya Xiongsan, Minister of the Imperial Clan Court, aged seventeen.”

A moment later, a beautiful woman stepped forward.

Unlike her earlier domineering and arrogant demeanor in the Imperial Garden, she now completely restrained her sharpness, presenting to the world only her most beautiful aspect—her way of walking.

Every beauty has her unique charm. Empress Fucha was like an orchid in a secluded valley; Noble Consort Hui was a national peony in full bloom. In terms of facial beauty, Wuya Qingdai could not compare to either of them. However, her gait was exceptionally light, graceful, and elegant. Among ten women walking together, anyone’s eyes would be drawn to her first.

And even if one didn’t notice her walk, they would certainly notice—

“Hm?” Noble Consort Hui suddenly raised an eyebrow. “What’s that on the ground?”

Everyone followed her gaze. Wherever Wuya Qingdai had passed, two long trails of lotus prints had bloomed among the candidates, ending precisely at her feet.

From above came Hongli’s voice: “What’s the matter with your shoes?”

He had indeed noticed…

Wuya Qingdai’s heart leaped with wild joy. Though she tried desperately to suppress it, the delight still showed on her face; even her voice trembled slightly with happiness.

“Your Majesty—this is called ‘stepping lotus with every step.’”

“Is that so?” Hongli gave a short laugh. She couldn’t tell if it was her imagination, but the sound felt cold—almost menacing. The next moment she heard him say icily:

“Take off her shoes. Let Us have a look.”

STORY OF YANXI PALACE CHAPTERS HOME

  

   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 4: The Lotus Flower

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What had happened…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wei Yingluo glanced at Jixiang’s hand.

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

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

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

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

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

“Linglong, where is your sachet?”

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

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

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

“Take it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What she was looking at was a well.

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

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

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

“Hm?” Jixiang was taken aback.

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

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

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

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

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

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

STORY OF YANXI PALACE CHAPTERS HOME

  

   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 3: Entering the Palace

   Entering the palace—some people rejoice, others dread it.

   Not every family is willing to send their own daughter into the palace to chase after that illusory, uncertain future.

   When there’s a policy from above, there are countermeasures from below. Some people falsely claim that their daughter has fallen ill, fearing the illness might be passed to a Noble Lady, and thus voluntarily forfeit their eligibility to enter the palace. Although this is illegal, as long as they grease the right palms and, most importantly, no one reports it, the authorities above will turn a blind eye.

But when someone like Wei Yingluo makes the matter public on the streets, the Banner Captain of the Bordered Yellow Banner has no choice but to intervene.

“Speak!” the Banner Captain barked sternly. “What exactly is going on here?”

“This… this…” For the moment, Wei Qingtai couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation.

“Let me explain it instead.” A soft, gentle female voice rose from behind Wei Qingtai.

Wei Yingluo, still bound with ropes and finding it difficult to walk, simply crawled on her knees to the front of the Banner Captain. She lifted her face—her blood-smeared features only made her pair of clear, bright eyes stand out even more strikingly.

“Sir Banner Captain, I am Wei Yingluo, one of this year’s candidates for palace maid.” Her expression was calm, her words clear and measured. “My father loves me too much and is unwilling to send me into the palace, so he spread word outside that I had lost my mind, then forced me into a distant marriage…”

“Enough!” The Banner Captain didn’t want to hear any more. He already felt like a laughingstock amid the pointing and whispering of the onlookers. Who was to blame for this? He glared fiercely at the man he considered the root of it all—Wei Qingtai—his voice cold and murderous. “All girls born into the Three Upper Banners’ bondservant households under the Imperial Household Department must be candidates for palace service. If any of them privately marry or are betrothed, let alone you and me—even the Lieutenant-General and the Company Commander will all be held accountable! Have you eaten the heart of a bear and the gall of a leopard to be so daring?!”

“I… I…” Wei Qingtai stammered for a long while before slowly bending his knees and kneeling down. He kowtowed heavily to the ground. “A thousand wrongs, ten thousand wrongs—all of it is my fault alone…”

The matter had already escalated to this point. He could only shoulder all the blame himself to avoid implicating the entire clan. Besides, if he didn’t take responsibility now, the clan members would later pin every crime on him anyway—and they would do it far more ruthlessly, ensuring he had no chance to turn around and accuse anyone else…

“Pity the hearts of parents all over the world.” Suddenly Wei Yingluo let out a soft sigh. She knelt down beside Wei Qingtai, kowtowing as well. The blood from her forehead stained the green bricks on the ground as she pleaded, “My father does not wish me to enter the palace and become a white-haired palace maid, and I do not wish my father to be punished because of me. Please, in consideration of the deep bond between father and daughter, spare him this once. I will definitely enter the palace on time.”

The word “filial piety” has, since ancient times, been the most moving thing in people’s hearts.

Immediately someone sighed, “What a filial daughter. Sir, please forgive them this time.”

“Yes, pity the hearts of parents everywhere.”

“I have a daughter of my own—I can’t even bear to let her marry far away, let alone enter the palace. Once she steps through those gates, it’s like entering an ocean too deep to cross; seeing her again in this lifetime would be nearly impossible.”

The Banner Captain glanced at Wei Yingluo with a complicated expression.

Her words had given everyone a way out. Wei Qingtai was not a criminal—he was simply a father with deep love for his daughter. And he himself was not negligent; instead, he could now take advantage of the public sentiment, play the role of a wise and benevolent official, and win praise.

“Very well.” The Banner Captain slowly nodded. “In consideration of so many common people pleading for you, this official will forgive you this once. You must not be foolish again—do you understand?”

“This humble one understands.” Wei Qingtai kowtowed again. He had no choice but to understand; he had to understand. To show his repentance, he would even have to personally escort Wei Yingluo into the palace.

“Father, I’m sorry.”

Wei Qingtai turned his head and saw Wei Yingluo looking at him with resolute eyes. She repeated the same words she had said earlier at the charity hall: “Your daughter must enter the palace.”

At this point, what else could Wei Qingtai do? Furious and helpless, he snapped, “Go then! Go ahead! Live or die—it’s up to you. I wash my hands of it. I’m never interfering again!”

In his heart he could only curse the cruel heavens: why did the Banner Captain have to pass by this exact street at this exact moment?

   But had the Banner Captain really just happened to pass by?

   In the crowded throng of people, in the very direction from which the Banner Captain had appeared, a middle-aged woman raised her hand to press down the bamboo hat on her head. A black gauze veil hung from the brim, concealing her face. Otherwise, if Wei Qingtai had seen her features, he would surely have demanded: “Aunt Jin, why are you here?”

In this world, there are not many true coincidences. Many “coincidences,” when traced back later, turn out to be entirely man-made.

“Miss, as you instructed, I’ve brought the Banner Captain of the Bordered Yellow Banner here.” Jin looked toward Wei Yingluo through the light gauze veil and sighed softly in her heart. I hope what I’m doing isn’t harming you. I hope you can truly achieve what you wish for, and not follow in your sister’s footsteps…

She shed the bright red wedding robes and changed into the plain green attire of a palace maid. On the second day of the second month in the sixth year of Qianlong’s reign, Wei Yingluo walked together with a group of new palace maids through the Imperial Garden, which was in full, splendid bloom.

Most of the palace maids were fifteen or sixteen years old—the age when one is most innocent and curious about the world. They kept looking left and right, drawn by a peony blossom here, a pink butterfly there. Only Wei Yingluo kept her gaze straight ahead, cold and indifferent to everything around her.

She even found herself thinking: Are the flowers blooming so beautifully because they’ve drunk my sister’s blood?

“What are you all chattering about like sparrows?” The senior palace maid leading them couldn’t stand their twittering anymore and scoffed with a sneer. “This is the Forbidden City—the most exalted place under Heaven. Do you think you’re allowed to gawk and babble as you please? Hurry up and move!”

Wei Yingluo was about to follow when a maid beside her tugged at her sleeve. Though the girl lowered her voice somewhat, it was still loud enough for the nearby little maids to hear: “Quick, look over there!”

Wei Yingluo couldn’t help frowning. She felt the other girl was being far too restless. The senior maid had just warned them not to look around or talk carelessly, yet this one immediately caused such a commotion—and not just by herself; she was dragging everyone else down with her…

Right. She remembered this girl’s name seemed to be Jinxiu.

The name suited her perfectly: a sharp, delicate oval face, a slender waist that could be encircled with one hand, an air of seductive charm from head to toe—truly worthy of the gorgeous name “Jinxiu.”

Following the sound, the little maids all turned to look. Deep among the peach blossoms, several selection girl (candidate consorts) were approaching, parting flowers and brushing aside willow branches. Each one was lovely in appearance, more enchanting than the blossoms themselves. They lightly fanned themselves with small silk fans, and a fragrant breeze drifted near and far—jasmine mingled with rose—delightful to the senses.

A round-faced little maid blinked her big eyes. “Sister Jinxiu, who are they? Fairies?”

The words were spoken with perfect childish innocence, and the girl herself looked like a child. Wei Yingluo remembered she was the youngest among them—only fourteen—and her name was Jixiang.

Again, the name suited her perfectly: like a cheerful New Year’s painting of a chubby baby, just looking at her made people feel festive and happy.

“Those are the selection girl who passed the preliminary selection and are preparing for the palace audience selection,” Linglong said with open envy, her eyes practically reaching out like hands to strip the others of their clothes and jewelry—hairpins, earrings—and put them all on herself.

“Such beautiful clothes,” Jixiang said, equally full of longing, though her envy was completely different from Linglong’s. She looked like a little neighbor girl gazing wistfully at the candied hawthorn stick in your hand. “If only I could wear such pretty clothes too.”

Jinxiu gave a scornful laugh at that. “Those are all daughters of distinguished families. The moment they enter the palace, they become mistresses. People like us—even if we pass the examinations—can only be palace maids who serve them. You—”

She jabbed her elbow into Jixiang’s side. “—stop daydreaming!”

“Watch out!” Wei Yingluo’s warning came too late.

Jixiang was already small and frail; it took both her hands just to lift the wooden bucket used for cleaning, and she carried it with great effort, swaying even while standing still. Now, with Jinxiu knocking against her already sore and weak elbow, the bucket immediately slipped from her grasp. With a splash, it hit the ground, and the dirty water inside flew out like spilled ink, splattering across the hem of one of the selection girl’s skirts.

Jixiang was terrified. She rushed forward and dropped to her knees at the woman’s feet. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ll wipe it clean for you right now…”

Slap!

A sharp slap sent Jixiang sprawling to the ground; she rolled once, her whole body stained black with dirty water, looking like a pitiful stray dog.

“You filthy slave!” The selection girl’s face was livid with rage. “This Xiangyun gauze was specially purchased from Jiangnan for today’s palace audience selection! Now that you’ve dirtied it, what am I supposed to wear to see the Emperor?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… This slave really didn’t mean to…” Jixiang crawled forward, sobbing, fumbling desperately to pull out a clean handkerchief. “This slave will wipe it for you… This slave will clean it right away…”

“Get away!” With a look of utter disgust, the selection girl kicked out hard and fast—kicking not like a person at all, but as if booting a filthy stray dog—straight toward Jixiang’s face.

Jixiang let out a miserable cry and rolled away. Then, crawling back on hands and knees, nose bleeding freely, she kowtowed frantically like pounding garlic. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

“Hmph!” The selection girl glanced at the senior palace maid. “Do you think I should let her off?”

Although they hadn’t known each other long, people still have hearts of flesh. Seeing Jixiang in such a pitiful state, quite a few of the palace maids showed traces of pity on their faces. Yet they remained as silent as cicadas in winter, not daring to speak up for her for fear of being implicated themselves. At this moment, hearing the selection girl’s words, they all looked toward the senior palace maid with hopeful eyes, hoping she might say a few words on Jixiang’s behalf.

But Wei Yingluo knew that was impossible.

Even they themselves didn’t dare speak for Jixiang—how could a worldly, experienced old hand like the senior palace maid possibly offend a selection girl who might one day become a consort, just for the sake of an ordinary little palace maid?

Sure enough, the senior palace maid smiled obsequiously and said, “Lady Wuya, these girls are all newly arrived palace maids—stupid as pigs. You may beat or scold them as you please. Please, whatever you do, don’t anger yourself and harm your own health!”

Upon hearing this, some of the palace maids looked disappointed, others glared in silent fury, but every mouth clamped even tighter. They were all clever people—if even the senior palace maid didn’t dare act, they certainly wouldn’t either.

At a time like this, the only ones who might possibly speak up for Jixiang were other selection girls of equal standing.

“Sister Wuya,” a timid voice suddenly rang out, “she didn’t do it on purpose. Please just let her go.”

…There really was a selection girl willing to speak up for Jixiang.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What had happened…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wei Yingluo glanced at Jixiang’s hand.

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

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

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

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

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

“Linglong, where is your sachet?”

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

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

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

“Take it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What she was looking at was a well.

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

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

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

“Hm?” Jixiang was taken aback.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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