Ever since that day she had crossed paths with the Embroidered Uniform Guard, a layer of dust seemed to have settled over Xiansi's heart. She devoted herself to loyalty, kept her tail tucked, and rarely engaged in idle gossip with others. As for the secrets His Majesty entrusted to her, she remained tight-lipped—though of course, no one with a death wish would dare ask.
After that first time, the Embroidered Uniform Guard's secret letters were often delivered through Xiansi.
Xiansi was walking a razor's edge. What she held was not a slip of paper but a murderer's blade, and she lived in constant fear, every hour, everywhere. And whenever His Majesty finished reading a note, he too was like a murderer's blade—a bolt of cold lightning cleaving through the frigid air, making one's scalp prickle again and again.
This exclusive trust also meant exclusive danger.
Fortunately, His Majesty was an enlightened sovereign. On the rare occasions she violated a taboo, he would dismiss her punishment with a light touch. This steady protection was entirely different from the unfathomable, capricious wickedness he showed before the Grand Secretariat. Xiansi was grateful, and His Majesty's towering figure grew ever more venerable in her eyes.
Fortunately, too, Xiansi could not read.
Because they shared the witness of a common secret, His Majesty's trust in her, imperceptibly, climbed to another level. Sometimes, as she attended him through dusks when the sun's shadow slanted west, he would chat with her idly, turn his head with a faint smile, and ask her opinions on trivial matters. She listened with full attention; though she said little, her answers were mostly measured and proper, quiet and demure, and she would return his smile.
"One day you shall recite the Daoist petitions for me."
Perhaps he had noticed her soft, sweet voice. "Can you read?"
Xiansi blushed. Palace maids and eunuchs were forbidden to learn to read—a rule set down by the founding ancestor. "This servant is dull-witted and completely illiterate."
Illiterate was best. Only the illiterate would never leak secrets; only the illiterate could earn trust.
Hanzheng said, "One day I shall have someone teach you."
Xiansi was overwhelmed by such favor.
Occasionally, their long dark shadows, stretched by the sunset glow, would overlap at the sleeves—glimpsed from afar, they looked like companions walking hand in hand. Tenderness wrapped in the taboos of caste, and within those taboos, a touch of human warmth: they were master and servant, and also kin separated by the gulf of rank. Serving at His Majesty's side for life as a beloved servant was indeed better than being a humble wife to some commoner.
The days ran along their rails, tight and steady, calm and untroubled. Xiansi enjoyed the glory of being the Emperor's foremost attendant, and all was peaceful.
Around the Mid-Autumn Festival on the fifteenth of the eighth month, the palace grew visibly busy.
The Mid-Autumn Festival was a grand occasion in the palace. The immortals of the moon would descend to the mortal world, and no negligence could be permitted on earth. In the Palace of Heavenly Purity, wreathed in the incense smoke of the alchemy tripod, the master was a Daoist devotee, seeking the auspiciousness of honoring the gods.
On the eve of the festival, Xiansi barely slept, arranging the young eunuchs and maids together with Liu Lun.
First, the rules had to be made clear. The festival brought imperial grace to the palace—fruit and pastries would be bestowed—but no one was permitted to gorge; at most, one might eat to eighty percent full. Anyone who burped, passed wind, or carried the smell of urine would be dragged off and whipped to death.
Second, there would be the moon-worship ceremony. If the masters themselves reverently inserted incense and knelt in worship, the servants had to be all the more utterly subservient and perfectly poised in every movement. Their eyes must stay lowered at all times; no glaring about or barging around. Signals were to be passed with hand gestures and coded signs. Their faces had to show genuine, heartfelt joy—not flattery, but naturalness, smooth yet respectful. Anyone who disgraced themselves on this important occasion would never lay a hand on the gates of the Palace of Heavenly Purity again for the rest of their life.
This time of year was extremely auspicious—please the master, and whatever casual reward he tossed your way could equal several months' stipend, making your colleagues look at you with new eyes.
Wealth and glory were there for the taking; how far you could reach depended entirely on your own fortune.
"Your godfather has had a set of festive robes made—guess what for." Wang Fulu was mysterious, his face full of smugness.
Xiansi smiled, too lazy to guess. What else could it be for? Nothing but to pay tribute to His Majesty. The Sovereign was the sovereign and father of all the people under heaven; his subjects gathered at his knees and received his imperial grace.
Servants like them were privileged by proximity, and on this day of reunion they scrambled gleefully for a lucky omen—after all, who wouldn't want a word of imperial commendation from the Sovereign's own lips?
"Your godfather is going to snatch the first prize again."
At the Mid-Autumn Festival, the stoves of the Imperial Kitchen burned from morning till night, turning out a full five hundred dishes—a dazzling, dizzying display.
Nothing else caught her attention, but Xiansi knew the Sovereign favored Huaiyang cuisine. Every time she saw a Huaiyang dish, something flickered in her heart; she would nod inwardly in approval, but never let a hint escape. The Emperor's tastes must never be known to outsiders.
The Mid-Autumn palace banquet was laid out in grand style, with imperial relatives, princes, and ministers arriving in an endless stream. Miss Jiang, the Empress Dowager's cousin's daughter, also came, attending at the Empress Dowager's side in her capacity as an unmarried maiden. From princes down to servants, everyone knew she was the future Empress and regarded her with a measure of respect.
The Empress Dowager's face was flushed and radiant as she conversed amicably with the Sovereign. After their long rivalry, mother and son were, for once, the picture of filial harmony.
The distinguished guests took their seats in strict order of rank. When the Sovereign arrived, the dark mass of people knelt in audience, their voices a thunderous roar of acclaim. Only the Empress Dowager remained seated high upon the Phoenix Throne.
After the Sovereign paid his respects to the Empress Dowager and took his seat, the others followed suit, and the banquet formally began.
Xiansi stayed behind the Sovereign throughout the entire proceedings. She and Liu Lun were like two little shadows of the imperial presence—silent yet clever, the Sovereign was happy to bring them wherever he went.
"Ten thousand years! Ten thousand years! Ten thousand years upon ten thousand years—"
A thunderous roar of acclaim.
Miss Jiang still wore her veiled hat, seated demurely beside the Empress Dowager, perfectly proper.
The Sovereign was an upright man; his gaze never lingered on any of the ladies below. The only person he occasionally glanced toward was Xiansi.
Receiving the signal, Xiansi knew whether it was time to change his attire, pour wine, or arrange his departure from the table, all according to her master's wishes.
The Mid-Autumn night was long, and by old custom the whole palace would gather to admire the moon. But the Sovereign was guarded and inscrutable, deep and still as an abyss, and had never cared to wear a false face and join the princes and noble relatives in the festivities. Once the banquet was done, he vanished like a ghost.
The Empress Dowager loved the limelight, so he simply tossed the rest of the occasion to her.
The Empress Dowager's expression soured, but she swallowed her resentment.
Since the founding of this dynasty, no emperor had ever acted so freely as the Sovereign. He scorned the rules because his methods were truly masterful—from behind the curtain he could control people precisely with his puppet strings. More often than not, he played the invisible chess player rather than acting in the open.
Who knew how many deadly agents of the Embroidered Uniform Guard had slipped into tonight's palace banquet? Though the Sovereign was absent, everyone had to watch their words and deeds. Let slip a drunken word or two of nonsense, and you might well lose your head.
The gates of the Palace of Heavenly Purity were locked at the usual hour, and master and servants shut the doors behind them to celebrate their own reunion festival.
Hanzheng brought Xiansi to the inner bedchamber, shed the cumbersome court robes, and changed into a soft, comfortable Daoist robe.
He propped his cheek at an angle, rubbing his temple, the faint scent of wine clinging to him. "That music gave me a splitting headache."
"Haven't you escaped now?"
Xiansi was rarely one to play the coquette, but because today was a festival, the more festive the better, and the boundaries between master and servant blurred.
She knelt lightly at his knee, eyes sparkling. "Your Majesty clearly has a poor tolerance for wine, yet you blame the music."
"Oh? No respect for rank—are you not afraid I'll slap your mouth?"
A fresh smile surfaced on Hanzheng's lips. He said it without a trace of reproach; instead, his manner was as warm as a passing breeze.
"Your Majesty, this servant will go brew you a sobering soup at once."
Xiansi pressed her advantage, rising as she spoke, determined to prove how shallow his tolerance really was.
Hanzheng caught her wrist, cold and stern yet kindly all at once. "Come back. You dare?"
Xiansi froze, pinned by the clear brilliance of his eyes, her whole body pierced in an instant. Beneath their tacit understanding, neither of them was quite proper. Occasionally he would even touch her—it was not the first time.
The fog long since parted, Xiansi knew full well she was no ordinary palace maid anymore.
His tolerance for wine was actually excellent; he habitually took a small cup before bed. He was only drunk when he wished to be—say, when escaping tonight's banquet.
Instead of fetching sobering soup, Xiansi brought out a vintage brew—the drinking had not been finished earlier, so now it was a private session behind closed doors.
"Strong wine harms the body."
Hanzheng tilted the wine cup, clearly enjoying it while still putting on airs.
Xiansi waited demurely at his side. "One word from Your Majesty, and this servant will take it away."
"And if I bestow it on you instead?" His gaze was like a sudden chill wind rising in the deep of night—bright and gentle, gone in a flash. Much of his food from the imperial kitchens had been fed to her. "What's left—drink it."
Xiansi pulled a long face, then smiled and begged off. "This is imperial wine—this servant is hardly worthy of it. Besides, there's half a pot left. Wine that strong would surely make me drunk and earn me punishment from the Chief Steward. Please spare this servant, Your Majesty."
Hanzheng closed his eyes, savoring the girl's little tremor of the heart, and found it delightful. "If you find it too sharp, just say so—no need for all these excuses."
Master and servant had drunk about half a cup when Liu Lun led all the palace maids and eunuchs of the Palace of Heavenly Purity to pay their respects. Those of higher rank knelt inside the room, the lower-ranked knelt outside, and together they bowed in unison to wish His Majesty a happy reunion.
"May His Majesty enjoy health and lasting peace, and may all affairs be harmonious—"
Liu Lun's face and voice could not have been more radiant.
Hanzheng swept his long sleeve: rewards for everyone.
Xiansi received a red envelope too, stuffed full, and every face wore a joyful smile. Servants who worked in the Palace of Heavenly Purity were born with a certain lofty pride, looking down on the stingy, shabby attendants of other palaces—a state of affairs directly attributable to His Majesty's generosity.
Liu Lun, flushed with success, first bowed and scraped obsequiously, prostrating himself before the Emperor: "I beg His Majesty to permit this servant to offer his filial entertainment."
Then, donning a pre-prepared coat of iridescent feathers, he staged a performance of the fable of Old Lai entertaining his parents, prancing back and forth—a man of forty or fifty—until the whole company could barely suppress their laughter. Then he mimed a false fall and wept for his parents, bawling on the floor, refusing to rise until His Majesty gave his word.
Hanzheng's expression cleared like the sky after rain. "Very well. I bestow on you a pot of wine as well."
Liu Lun received it like a priceless treasure, immediately turning a somersault, his back bent low. "This servant thanks His Majesty for his boundless grace! But this servant would never dare drink it—I'll keep it every day, so that whenever I see this pot, I'll know it is His Majesty's gift!"
With that, he clutched the wine pot to his chest with a child's stubbornness, guarding it like food—whoever tried to take it from him would be met with loud wails. The whole company roared with laughter, and even His Majesty could not suppress a smile. Such a performance was far more entertaining than the monotonous music and dancing of the palace banquets.
The other young eunuchs also scrambled to curry favor, each hoping to earn a lucky omen and show off before His Majesty. Flattery is a skill—one slight misstep and it turns greasy, disgusting the master.
The only one who had achieved absolute mastery of flattery was Liu Lun. Liu Lun was between forty to fifty, while His Majesty was only in his twenties, yet Liu Lun could still roll around playing the fool without a trace of embarrassment.
Those who hated him said his skin was thicker than the city walls, called him a shameless old thing who would do anything to climb higher.
The performance proceeded in an orderly fashion for an hour—neither too long nor too short, just enough to heighten the festive Mid-Autumn atmosphere without overly disturbing His Majesty.
It was said to be master and servants, one family, laughing and chatting together, but in truth every servant admitted into the hall had been meticulously trained. When to laugh, when to gasp, when to kneel and frolic begging for rewards—everything had strict limits.
Currying favor was one thing, but there must be no chaos, no clamor, and above all no presuming beyond one's station. After an hour, the servants withdrew, leaving everything clean and quiet. Xiansi and Liu Lun, seeing the Emperor's favor plainly displayed, felt at ease—the evening's duty had been done well.
"Threw out your back, didn't you? I heard a crack just now."
Xiansi arrived at the old eunuch's private quarters carrying salve for injuries. Liu Lun was clumsily struggling out of his colorful costume, snagged by the ribbons, his face still smeared with red rouge—he looked both comical and eerie.
Serving in the palace, a servant had to risk everything to win a smile from the master—that was how one secured one's livelihood and rose above one's colleagues.
"It is a bit thrown out. Overdid it, but it's nothing. Did His Majesty seem pleased?"
What Liu Lun cared about most was still how the performance had gone. He scrubbed at the red rouge twice, but it wouldn't come off.
"His Majesty praised you personally. You stole the show from all of us, and you're still not satisfied."
Xiansi replied with a smile, reaching up to help pull off the costume and smoothing his robes. "Here's the medicine."
"I have medicine here."
Liu Lun twisted his waist back and forth awkwardly, afraid it really was strained. In the bronze mirror, his face was full of wrinkles, a single silver hair hanging down. He sighed, "Old, old, truly old. Can't even manage this little thing anymore, always falling ill. Sooner or later His Majesty will cast aside this old dog of his."
Xiansi counseled him, "Next year, leave the palace and spend your twilight years in peace. After all, His Majesty in his grace has granted you a residence."
"Once I leave the palace, it'll just be this broken, withered body of mine—all alone, lost, unable to find any meaning in this lingering half-life."
Liu Lun's sigh deepened.
The wine bestowed by His Majesty he had reverently placed on the highest shelf of his cabinet, kept in a box like a treasure.
Xiansi understood this feeling. Compared to certain bonds, uncertain freedom was far more terrifying. In the palace, at least one had a great tree to lean on for shade; outside, one was utterly alone, like an abandoned infant cast into the wilderness—that emptiness, that overwhelming sense that life was meaningless, would haunt a person constantly, driving them mad. So it was simply more familiar to stay in the palace and live a hard life.
"And you? What do you plan to do…"
Liu Lun's eyes were clouded; he had wanted to ask for a long time. He had spent more than half his life scheming, his hands stained with blood—and the only person he had treated wholeheartedly was Xiansi.
Xiansi lowered her lashes, like a pool of still spring water—loyal, self-sacrificing, and resolute:
"I will serve at His Majesty's side for the rest of my life."
So long as she could look at His Majesty each day, she was happy.
The wrist His Majesty had held just now still burned. That heart-stirring sensation was beyond words.
Liu Lun had nothing to say. Even with all his experience, he dared not rashly point the way for Xiansi. Climbing into the Emperor's bed was nothing new since ancient times, and especially now, with a young and handsome sovereign and an empty harem—but few who climbed that bed came to a good end.
Xiansi's heart yearned for His Majesty, and His Majesty favored her in turn. With mutual affection, things would take their natural course; stopping her was likely impossible.
But from Xiansi's perspective, if she wanted to stay by His Majesty's side for life, the safest path was to remain a palace maid forever. Otherwise, once she crossed that line and was drawn into the harem, with its fierce struggles, a mere servant girl like her would be ground down to nothing.
Besides, would His Majesty ever give her a title?
His Majesty had affection for her but no true intent—warmth wrapped around coldness, clearly just a passing amusement.
And Xiansi, still innocent in the ways of the world, was blindly obsessed.
Just then, Wang Fulu called for Xiansi. She thought His Majesty had summoned her, but Wang Fulu sneered, "What a satisfying servant you are—your heart and eyes are full of nothing but His Majesty. Does His Majesty have so many tasks that he must summon you? Could no one else do them?"
Xiansi coughed and composed her expression. "What business does Eunuch have with me?"
It was the festival of reunion, when the palace servants were permitted to exchange messages with their families through designated eunuchs. Some young palace maids received mooncakes from home; some eunuchs sent their stipends out to family members outside the palace. Xiansi had long been abandoned by her family, yet now someone had sent her a message.
Wang Fulu lowered his voice to a whisper. "It's Liu Sheng. He says he will wait for you, always."
Xiansi was struck speechless.
Wang Fulu merely delivered the message and, with a tacit understanding, said nothing more.
Clandestine dealings between those inside the palace and those outside were no great crime—especially since Liu Sheng counted as half family. The crux was that His Majesty's attitude toward Xiansi remained ambiguous; at this juncture, who would dare displease the Son of Heaven?
"Tell him not to wait," Xiansi said quietly.
No fate between them—there was simply no fate.
Wang Fulu nodded and left.
Xiansi stood alone beneath the moonlight of the Mid-Autumn Festival, frozen for a long while. She had a premonition that she had made a grave mistake—of her own making, beyond repair—and that the bitterness of the rest of her life would surpass even Liu Lun's, with no smooth road ahead.
But she had no choice.
The heart of His Majesty was not something she could sway; she could only drift with the current.