"I said I would give you a bright future."
Xiansi wrapped the jade pendant from the prospective empress, Miss Jiang, in several layers of silk and stored it carefully in the storeroom.
After all, it was a token of love. Once the Emperor and Empress were wed, under the moon and amidst the flowers, reminiscing about the past—who knew which day he might suddenly recall this jade pendant.
For now, His Majesty had no particular interest in the pendant.
Xiansi and Liu Lun and the others were privately scheming that in the future they must do their utmost to show filial devotion to Empress Jiang. Husband and wife were one—if the Empress favored them, the Emperor would favor them all the more. Keeping multiple escape routes: cling to several big trees, leave several paths of retreat.
The summer sun blazed brilliantly, scorching the gilded ridges with patches of egg-yolk-yellow light. White pigeons with pristine feathers perched on the eave corners.
Wispy white clouds, as if combed through by the teeth of a comb, stretched across a deep blue sky that set off the red walls and yellow tiles.
When Hanzheng concluded the imperial court, Xiansi was not among the servants kneeling in welcome within the palace. He idly searched the crowd for a moment, but still her slender and delicate figure was nowhere to be found. He fell silent, and ripples inexplicably stirred the calm lake of his heart; he seemed less than pleased.
Inside the hall, he tapped the lid of his white porcelain lotus cup.
With a clink, a servant immediately came to replace the cooled tea.
A short while later, Xiansi entered the hall with measured, demure steps, bearing freshly brewed warm tea at brow height, followed by a string of servants—some burning incense, some fanning, some changing the ice in the copper basin—each attending to their duties in silence.
Hanzheng narrowed his eyes as if to confirm, his gaze resting on her for a moment. But a vast distance still lay between them, and there were many extraneous servants about.
"Hurry it up, don't block His Majesty's light."
Liu Lun, that shrewd operator, read his master's expression at once and ordered his subordinates to quicken their pace, withdrawing briskly and leaving only Xiansi.
The great hall was cleared.
Xiansi, knowing her place, remained, bowing low as she stood in a corner, nearly merging into the shadows.
Hanzheng lifted the tea cup and, deliberately or not, caressed the spot her hand had touched moments before—where a lotus petal was etched in meticulous brushwork. Xiansi noticed it from the corner of her eye, yet made no sound, her figure as if locked in place.
Perhaps the porcelain cup was too slick; it slipped an inch or so from his palm, and the crisp clatter shattered the silence.
Xiansi instinctively raised her head, intending to attend to him, and met his gaze head-on. Hanzheng neither dodged nor looked away; his black pupils descended like a net, holding her fast, his meaning lingering and deep.
The two collided, like tofu meeting a sharp blade, hidden edge beneath the surface.
"Your Majesty."
Xiansi immediately sank to her knees, begging forgiveness for looking directly upon the Imperial countenance.
She had to admit that what she had encountered was not merely a benevolent and generous Emperor, but a highly skilled controller. And the latter was his strength—his true nature.
Hanzheng did not reprimand her harshly. "Where were you just now?"
Absent from her post—the gravest taboo for a servant on duty in the palace.
Xiansi had been delivering something to Senior Maid Jinshu and had lingered a while in conversation. Senior Maid Jinshu's opinion bore on whether she would take the vow never to marry, and so she took it very seriously. Truthfully, there was indeed a hint of dereliction of duty, presuming on her master's favor.
Now it seemed her plan was going to come to nothing.
"This servant was delivering something to Jinshu, and Jinshu gave this servant some instruction," she said, skirting the core issue. She dared not deceive the Emperor, and only hoped he would not question further.
Yet Hanzheng pressed precisely on: "What did she say?"
A vague sound escaped from deep in Xiansi's throat. How could she speak such vulgar words as taking the vow never to marry before her master? She said, "This servant…"
"wishes to serve His Majesty for a lifetime—even when old, until my bones are ground to ash, this servant will labor for His Majesty."
She quickly and with difficulty organized her words, choosing a more dignified way to phrase it.
The Emperor's spies were everywhere—throughout the palace, in the streets, in the homes of high officials and commoners alike. The entire dynasty held no secrets under the Emperor's eyes.
Hanzheng reminded her: "I told you I would give you a bright future."
From the very beginning he had promised her this. She could rest assured that she would never be treated poorly in the days to come.
So she should not have sought a future for herself.
Xiansi's eyes grew slightly moist, with nowhere to release the feeling, and she said stifledly, "Yes, this servant was foolish. This servant only wishes to stay by Your Majesty's side for a lifetime. Being able to serve you is happiness enough."
Hanzheng studied her—thin as a bamboo stalk, an oval face, ink-dark brows pressing over her eyes, a nose like a slender scallion, crimson lips, evenly proportioned features. Every inch of her seemed to grow in his heart.
"Rise."
It seemed this was what he said to her most often.
Xiansi straightened up. By now, she could almost confirm that His Majesty felt not only the bond between master and servant for her, but something else as well.
The affection between them was irreplaceable—closer, more familiar, more tacitly understood than that of an ordinary master and servant.
But how deep those feelings ran, she could not yet know.
He cherished her. She ought to trust him.
A thread of forbidden intimacy, grown in the soil of a cold and rigid hierarchy, was becoming an increasingly unspeakable secret—one that pulled her, who had been striving to climb through proper means under the open sun, onto a shortcut, and into an abyss of ruin.
And yet the feeling… was not painful. There was no savage coercion. Even in her deepest dreams, she had fantasized that one day she would stand at his side, enjoying his warmth, his care, and his love.
That dream was actually about to come true.
Xiansi slowly lifted her head, tear stains still on her face, and met his gaze. Hanzheng, too, seemed to hold a measuring stick, weighing the relationship between them. She foolishly let her feelings show, and he gazed back with tenderness in his eyes.
"Go wash your face,"
Hanzheng said softly, with an air of calm indifference, "then come attend the brushes and ink."
"Yes."
In private, Xiansi did not have to observe the rules so strictly; an occasional presumption was of no consequence. He tolerated her, like a generous master indulging a favored pet—there was a special bond and trust between them. At times, when he promised her a future, they were almost like family.
After washing her face, she once again became the proper, composed palace maid.
She picked up the begonia inkstick and began grinding the black ink with a soft, sandy sound. There were no memorials to the throne to review today, so black ink was used.
The atmosphere seemed to sink back into silence.
Hanzheng could clearly smell the herbal scent of soap on her, and likewise, Xiansi caught the Daoist-pure Scent of Descending Immortals and Summoning Cranes on him—each drawing the other in like a magnetic force.
Neither of them spoke a single word, yet it was as if they had exchanged a thousand.
In truth, it was not only her scent. The sound of her footsteps and their rhythm, her high, slender voice—Hanzheng could distinguish them all with precision, even if she hid among a crowd of servants.
When she attended the ink at his side, even the slightest pause or quickening of her breath did not escape him.
He did indeed seem to hold a particular fondness for her.
Hanzheng suddenly rose and left the desk.
"Does His Majesty want today's ink dark or light?"
her clear, delicate voice asked from behind him.
"Dark," he answered with a single word, standing with his hands behind his back.
The wind rose, howling and slashing.
Tree shadows swayed, and the open window abetted the assault, sweeping away every trace of warmth in the room.
The summer weather in the sixth month was fickle—one moment a clear sky for ten thousand li, the next moment dark clouds came rolling in.
Dark clouds were rolling through his heart as well.
……
"I can never take the vow never to marry now."
Three days later, faced with Liu Lun's furious questioning, Xiansi swore earnestly, "I was momentarily confused before—it was all for the sake of attending the Imperial Presence. His Majesty promised to treat me well and grant me a promising future. I've put those foolish thoughts away now, so rest assured."
Hearing this, Liu Lun's anger cooled somewhat, though he still pointed his orchid-shaped finger and accused in a shrill voice, "Regardless, you actually entertained such a foolish notion. All these years I've cared for you in vain."
Xiansi smiled sheepishly, softening her tone. "I know you mean well. I was wrong."
Liu Lun's fury died down, and then he couldn't help breaking into a cold sweat. Xiansi truly had remarkable favor—His Majesty had even agreed to grant her a promising future.
"From now on, no hiding your thoughts from me."
It was a warning.
Liu Lun could not bear to see Xiansi spend the rest of her life lonely and destitute, ending up just like himself. He was old now, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes like blossoms bursting open—homeless, without a branch to lean on, a servant all his life, having tasted every bitterness the world had to offer.
Even though, in the eyes of outsiders, he lived in dazzling glory.
Though Liu Lun's influence had waned, he remained the Chief Steward second only to the Emperor at court, and every servant in the rear palace treated him with deference.
He was about to retire due to illness and had been granted a residence in the capital's outskirts—a rare case of a eunuch ending his days in peace. Yet out of concern for His Majesty, he would rather abandon his comfortable retirement and linger in the palace like a lapdog.
The Directorate of Ceremonies under his charge approved memorials with vermilion ink on the Emperor's behalf; imperial oral decrees and secret imperial edicts were all drafted by them—matters palace maids could never touch. His Majesty's instructions often came as cryptic notes and riddles, and as the man closest to the throne, Liu Lun received bribes of silver by the handful from court officials, all begging him to reveal a word or two of the imperial will so they might avoid calamity.
Moreover, as a eunuch at the very peak of power, he held the power of life and death over the lowly young eunuchs. If they erred or fell ill, whether they lived or died rested entirely on his word. When future palace maidens entered the palace, the various young mistresses wishing an audience with His Majesty would have to pass through his gate as well.
For all his privileges, Liu Lun's life had still not been worth it.
Joy and sorrow intertwined, humiliation and glory—more than words could tell.
Xiansi understood in her own heart too: if she neither took the vow never to marry nor left the palace, a domestic partnership with Liu Lun would be her best fate. But with His Majesty's protection now, who—Liu Lun included—would dare make designs on her?
For the moment, she could not think it through.
Deep in the night, a windless, tranquil evening.
The moon's silhouette flickered in and out of view, casting a cool shade, a few wisps of ink-blue clouds drifting across the pitch-black sky.
In the Palace of Heavenly Purity, the palace maids and eunuchs of the night watch each attended to their duties.
In the innermost bedchamber, the curtains stood half-open. His Majesty held a scroll of a book, turning pages now and then. A single lamp glowed in the hall like a bean, its dim yellow ambience steeped in a solemn air.
After a long while, Hanzheng set down the book and closed his eyes in light slumber.
The coldness of his features floated in the half-dark—a young face.
Xiansi stood dutifully in attendance within the hall, where even lifting an eyelid would count as presuming. After waiting a moment, she stepped forward, knelt beside his bed, and spoke in a gentle tone that would not disturb: "Your Majesty, shall I prepare for your rest?"
Master and servant—one below the bed, one upon it; one looking up, one looking down—no more than a chi apart.
Hanzheng's voice was cool and refined. "What hour is it?"
"A quarter past the hour of the Pig," she answered consideringly. "Your Majesty toils day and night over ten thousand affairs of state. Let this servant extinguish the lamp for you."
"No hurry."
Fragrant mist curled through the hall, swirling with the turning of the lunar disc—rather too cloying.
Hanzheng said, "Put out the incense first."
"Yes." Xiansi used a wooden rod to lift open the censer.
Hanzheng gazed at the bright moon through the window. Dappled, hazy white gauze cast his black silhouette, and the room felt cold and ethereal—serene, steady. The darkness offered a sense of safety, a kind of beauty that daylight could never touch.
"The moon is full tonight."
"Tonight is the fifteenth, when the moon is at its fullest. In a day or two it will begin to wane, slowly shrinking back into a thin crescent."
Kneeling on the floor as she poked at the incense ash, Xiansi made conversation with her master. "On my way here for my shift, I saw that great moon in the sky. It lit up my heart all bright and clear."
Hanzheng's shadow stretched into the moonlight, as if tinged with displeasure. "And yet the moonlight has left me so bright and clear that I cannot sleep."
Xiansi smiled apologetically. "Then this servant dares not like the moon anymore."
He gave a faint smile. "There's no need for that."
Xiansi replaced the lid on the incense burner, and the cloying scent in the room faded. With nothing else to do, master and servant were nonetheless unwilling to simply go to sleep and waste this harmonious, tranquil night. She stood like a pillar, making the atmosphere stiff and blocking his light besides.
Hanzheng flicked his sleeve. "Sit."
As his most favored maidservant, when they were alone at night she could often curl up at the foot of the bed in the corner where the curtain hung down, so her legs wouldn't go stiff from standing. It was an established routine, the same every night.
So Xiansi did not refuse. She thanked him for the grace and sat down, and master and servant both relaxed, slipping more easily toward sleep.
The horn-shaped lamps were reflected in Hanzheng's eyes, tempered like jade and like blades. Even in the profound silence of all nature, he still gave off a cold, sharp impression. Compared to his perfectly natural ease, Xiansi was like a shadow curled up in a dark corner.
"Are you afraid of the dark?"
In the stillness, he asked abruptly.
Hearing his voice, Xiansi pulled a smile up from somewhere deep. "This servant isn't afraid. Besides, with the moon so full tonight, if Your Majesty has any orders, this servant could walk the night paths without stumbling."
Hanzheng nodded. Indeed, there was nothing to fear.
"Keeping night watch is a hard ordeal."
The hardship of night watch was the most trying thing of all.
"It is this servant's pride and honor to attend His Majesty—no hardship at all. Besides, Your Majesty is so generous as to allow this servant to sit and rest."
At the foot of the bed, Xiansi answered slowly, in a rhythm as calm as the night itself. Though the words were formal platitudes, seven parts in ten were true. The night watch was a duty she had fought with all her might to obtain, and attending the Emperor truly was something she had always taken pride in.
"No need to be so distant with me."
He said nothing more, sinking into sleep along with the night. His occasional show of concern vanished without a trace.
The next morning, as Xiansi was helping the Emperor change his attire, when she fastened the third frog button of his lower garment, a shadow flickered faintly beyond the dark curtain—like a bat skimming the eaves. It dropped to its knees and kowtowed with crisp precision, saying in a low voice, "Master—"
That grim tone, that bloodthirsty air, that Flying Fish robe with its fierce, flaring scales and claws—it was one of the Embroidered Uniform Guard who had lurked in the darkness the night before.
Hanzheng understood. "Report."
The guard was named Wei Lin. He had been secretly investigating the household of the future empress, Miss Jiang. Her father was a cousin of the Empress Dowager, and before the Emperor and his future empress had even been wed, Jiang's father had been covertly courting court officials, sending lavish gifts to several high ministers of the Grand Secretariat.
This most secret matter had been uncovered by Wei Lin; the list of officials he had cultivated was written out clearly on the note.
"Respectfully presented to His Majesty."
Inside the alcove all was silent; Xiansi was the only servant there, attending to his attire.
Hanzheng patted Xiansi's head beside his knee and gave his instruction in a gentle voice. "Go take it."
Xiansi was startled. Matters involving state affairs were not to be taken lightly, so she rose and lifted the curtain, respectfully taking the note from Wei Lin's hand. She kept her gaze averted, not daring to sneak even half a glance, though from the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of dense writing. With absolute deference, she presented it with both hands.
Hanzheng unfolded the note and gave it an indifferent glance.
Then, with a flick of his hand, dismissed it.
The Embroidered Uniform Guard withdrew at the command, his steps ringing with force. Hanzheng held the note to the candle flame and burned it.
The note had recorded more than thirty names, and he had memorized them with a single glance. Xiansi's heart trembled; she focused all the more on the task at hand, playing the part of an oblivious wooden doll as she fastened the last frog button of his lower garment.
"This servant will put on your boots."
She knelt low and humble. A few wisps of paper ash drifted from the candlestick, floating and swirling down onto her hair. What drifted so lightly was not dust, but the bloody fate of confiscation and clan extermination awaiting more than thirty official families.
Xiansi instinctively lifted her eyes—and met his cold, sidelong stare.
"What did you hear?" He pinched her chin lightly.
Such a momentous matter just now, overheard by a servant who should never have heard it.
One thought flashed through Xiansi's mind: silenced. Given the skill that Embroidered Uniform Guard had shown, killing someone would be as easy as crushing an ant.
"Heard is heard. I trust you."
Hanzheng's tone was like a wind through a pitch-black canyon, carrying a calm, terrifying sense of order. Seeing her frozen in shock, he ruffled her hair, utterly without reserve, showing the trust and intimacy between master and servant—gentle as water, as if clearing up her doubts, and also giving a warning:
"But this is a secret. Keep it for me, will you?"