Xiansi had served in the Palace of Heavenly Purity for seven years, always doing menial work on the outskirts. This was the first time in her life she was allowed to enter the master's inner chambers.
The Palace of Heavenly Purity spanned nine bays, each one bright and immaculate. The Son of Heaven shone like the sun and moon; the grand hall of yellow glazed tiles with double eaves and a hip-and-gable roof, its nine ridges and four slopes, thrust its golden, glittering ridge into the azure sky—exquisite and refined, solemn and serene. It was not merely the Emperor's residence, but the paperweight of the vast scroll of the empire's rivers and mountains, dwelling at its heart, anchoring and sheltering the dynasty's blessings so they would endure long and never fade.
Standing at its feet, Xiansi felt a terrifying sense of being swallowed whole, which made her seem utterly insignificant.
To set foot here was overwhelming imperial favor, overwhelming glory.
Her lips pressed slightly inward, her expression cautious and restrained.
As she moved, the scenery shifted. Liu Lun, carrying a white gauze lantern, walked ahead at a measured pace, informing her of more rules:
"Our Palace of Heavenly Purity has nine bays. The central hall in the middle holds the imperial throne, where ministers pay homage—it is not used on ordinary days."
"The side chambers on the east and west hold books and memorials; they serve as the study."
Though the palace had a dedicated Imperial Study, the Palace of Heavenly Purity was still crammed with books wherever space allowed—ancient texts, rare editions, transcriptions of the Yongle Encyclopedia, everything one could imagine. The Emperor loved cleanliness and quiet; he was a lover of books to the utmost degree. The eunuchs in charge of candles and fires exercised the utmost caution—if even a single spark landed on a book, they would be flayed alive.
"The outer chambers on the east and west are enclosed rooms, yet they have their wonders. With few obstructions at the windows, a gentle breeze passes through, and one can take in the entire Palace of Heavenly Purity at a glance. The Emperor has keen eyes and a clear mind, gifted with heaven's wisdom—all affairs of the palace are within his grasp."
"Beyond the passageway and the heated pavilion, there is a quiet room dedicated to the Three Pure Ones of Daoism, with bright windows and clean tables, for cultivating body and mind. Incense smoke curls within; it faces south from the north, and the Emperor often sits there awhile, burning incense."
…
Liu Lun's expression was extremely grave as he explained these matters.
The Emperor acted with logic, selecting the capable, insisting on absolute clarity and absolute sovereign authority. Dwelling deep within the palace, he needed to be able to survey all affairs under heaven; his residence had to be clean, orderly, quiet, and refreshing.
Anything involving the Emperor's personal belongings and whereabouts was top secret. Only because Xiansi was to serve as a close attendant in the imperial bedchamber was she qualified to glimpse a little of it.
The closer one served before the Emperor, the more easily one lost one's head.
Xiansi quietly but solemnly committed Liu Lun's words to memory.
With such a weighty task placed upon her shoulders, she felt not only the panic of treading on thin ice, but also a sense of upward-striving pride. The higher she climbed, the more she could grasp, and the more power to choose her own fate she would have.
Liu Lun introduced Xiansi to the eunuchs and palace maids of the inner residence: Chen Bingzhong and Wang Fulu, two eunuchs both trained personally by Liu Lun, shrewd and clever, their backs bowed at just the right angle, smooth-tongued and articulate. Then Suxin and Jinshu, two senior palace maids.
Chen Bingzhong was in his thirties, with a cold, icy demeanor, and seemed not to welcome Xiansi. After all, as Liu Lun's godson, he had been poised to inherit Liu Lun's position and become the number one servant before the Emperor. Then out of nowhere came Xiansi, competing for his rice bowl. Within the Palace of Heavenly Purity, only one—the chief palace maid or the chief eunuch—could hold sole power.
Though Liu Lun wholeheartedly supported Xiansi, Chen Bingzhong had no intention of giving up, and they contended in secret.
Wasn't it simply a matter of who served the master better?
If he served better, then naturally he would rise—relying on anyone's connections would count for nothing.
So fierce was the struggle and competition among the palace servants.
There were also several odd-job eunuchs and palace maids, with duties divided in the finest detail—some attended the Emperor as he reviewed memorials, some managed the ink grinding, some fetched water for washing hands, some oversaw the Emperor's privy purse, and some were solely responsible for opening windows for ventilation. The division of labor was clear, and a detailed record was kept of what each person did every day.
The Emperor favored quiet, so those at his side were kept to a minimum; in daily life it was essentially these people who served him. Once the future Empress was brought into the palace, the staff might change—but that was a matter for later.
Whichever palace servant it was, joy shone from their faces from the inside out. "Happiness puts a spring in one's step"—in the Palace of Heavenly Purity, one had to maintain a naturally radiant delight at all times, a pride in attending the Imperial Person and a sense of being honored beyond one's deserts. Going about with a long face while forcing a smile simply would not do. One had to be docile, devoted, agreeable, quick, graceful in bearing, refined and gentle—grasping every matter without needing it spoken aloud, brimming with clever wits throughout, yet never resorting to petty cunning. One asked what should be asked and never asked what should not; one knew how to read faces and how to amuse one's master.
The few attendants at the Imperial Presence, in both spirit and perquisites, fared far better than the lowliest palace servants. As the saying goes, "The King of Hell is easy to avoid, but the little devils are hard to deal with"—and sometimes it was indeed so. The Emperor bore an air of cool detachment, temperate yet distant, reserved and quiet, and rarely troubled his servants. Those who could attend at his side were glad and reverent from the bottom of their hearts.
Xiansi was no newcomer to the palace; she understood all the rules.
She lowered her eyes, her brow stern and composed.
Her only answer to Liu Lun was the time-worn phrase: "This servant shall not fail the Chief Steward's trust."
The moon shifted, shadows moved along the walls, bronze bells at the eaves rustled softly, and the thick night closed in as crows cawed hoarsely.
Past the midpoint of the hour of the Dog, the long, drawn-out sound of the watch-drums came on time from West First Long Street, one beat after another. The palace gates were locked, the Embroidered Uniform Guard began its patrols, and the vast imperial palace sank into the silence of curfew.
The moon hung bright as a plate, willow shadows slanting.
At this hour, all was still; on the long streets of the palace only the footsteps of the Embroidered Uniform Guard could be heard. They were the Emperor's hounds—gathering intelligence, silencing witnesses with the blade, striking terror into all hearts, lying low by day and prowling by night.
Palace servants trimmed the candles bright, and those on duty took their posts.
Compared with the Forbidden City by day, the night carried an added solemnity and seclusion that set the nerves on edge, cold enough to make one shiver.
The palaces that loomed like colossal beasts by day, at night gaped with pitch-black, blood-filled maws—unfit to be gazed up at, unfit to be looked upon directly, inspiring dread, like one enormous black coffin after another.
The Emperor was not yet wed, and the rear palace stood empty; there were no name tablets to flip, no consorts to summon. The night watch was difficult, and yet simple.
On the thick embroidered carpet of the three eastern chambers, the underfloor heating system radiated fierce warmth. In the third month, when warmth was only just returning amid lingering cold, the overly intense heat drew a thin sheen of sweat to the tip of one's nose.
The dwelling of the Son of Heaven.
Xiansi pressed her forehead to the carpet, her hands properly placed at her sides, her whole body in a posture of prostrate kneeling—every inch of her shaped by the most exacting training. Five paces before her stood the Emperor, her sovereign and father.
Chief Steward Liu Lun knelt in attendance at her side, forehead likewise to the floor, and announced in a soft voice: "Your Majesty, good evening—"
As the new bedchamber attendant, Xiansi had come tonight to pay her respects to her master. The Imperial Countenance was close enough to touch, and she was overcome with trepidation.
Hanzheng had just returned from deliberating affairs of state.
He stood before the desk, profound and fathomless, his figure tall and upright.
Candlelight, mingled with the gilded pigments of the palace murals, fell upon his cheek; he paid the senior eunuch and his subordinate little attention.
His sleeves were rolled to the elbows, revealing a length of pale, lean, sinewy forearm.
Austere and solitary. An air of order, of firmly drawn boundaries, and a piercing presence like a cold spear.
He waved his hand as usual: "You may go."
Thus the carefully rehearsed audience ceremony came to a simple end.
No mistakes meant good fortune.
Liu Lun respectfully kowtowed three times and led Xiansi away.
Xiansi had practiced her bearing and tone over and over in private. She had been so nervous that her legs went weak, yet the Emperor had not even glanced at her.
A trivial matter like a maid's shift rotation truly wasn't worth His Majesty's attention. She kowtowed to the Emperor as a formality, and the Emperor certainly wouldn't lower himself to fuss over servants.
The cold night wind, blowing beneath the stars and moon, left Xiansi unable to collect herself for a long while. She was always so poised and proper; this state was extremely rare for her.
Liu Lun patted her shoulder and asked, "So, is your long-cherished wish fulfilled?"
"Mm—"
Xiansi nodded slowly, as if still lost in the moment.
An audience with the Emperor had been what she dreamed of for five years.
But actually seeing the Son of Heaven was nothing like she had imagined.
That extreme terror and icy oppressive presence was suffocating—a primal, instinctive fear.
The night wind seeped into her marrow. She gazed at the starry sky, her eyes like deep wells, brimming with countless sorrows and joys.
"His Imperial grace is boundless. I am overwhelmed with trepidation."
A trace of something strange flickered across her brow, quickly replaced by her usual sense of propriety.
"Then serve well."
Liu Lun sighed and offered this encouragement.
The only way a servant could repay their master was to serve well.
The moon floated among lotus-white clouds in the pitch-black night sky. Xiansi took a deep breath and straightened the hem of her clothing that the night wind had ruffled.
Night officially began.
The night watch usually consisted of five maids and eunuchs, but today Liu Lun was leading the shift and Xiansi was serving as an apprentice, so there were temporarily six.
Once Xiansi could carry the load on her own, the number would return to five—the rules could not be broken. A noisy crowd of people keeping watch outside the sleeping quarters would displease the Emperor and keep him from sleeping soundly.
The hour of the Dog was nearly over, and the night had turned thoroughly cold.
Cold wind rushed past. Crows on the roof ridge occasionally let out long, hoarse cries—bleak and desolate.
Holding a pole, Xiansi closed the lattice windows with their interlocking hexagonal floral patterns one by one, her movements steady, without a single creak.
She quietly glanced toward that bright spot—the Emperor had still not set down his brush, reading late by lamplight, the scratch of brush on paper the only sound in a hall so quiet one could hear a pin drop.
Though it was her first night watch, she conducted herself in perfect order, just right, so perceptive she seemed able to see straight into people's hearts. She was like a silent shadow, air without presence.
Wang Fulu, who was beside Liu Lun, handed her a cushion—thick felt material that kept out the cold of the ground well.
"It's your first night watch, so your godfather arranged for you to be in the alcove."
The alcove was where the Emperor changed his clothes.
The thick felt cushion was for sitting on at night, for dozing.
Of the five on night watch in the eastern three rooms, two stood at the hall door, always eunuchs—Wang Fulu and Chen Bingzhong, effectively door gods; one in the alcove, a maid; one in the covered corridor, Senior Maid Jinshu, who patrolled at night; and one outside the deepest part, the sleeping quarters—the highest-ranking, most important person, and the one the Emperor trusted most.
The deeper the post, the higher the servant's status.
Xiansi was newly arrived, yet she had surpassed Wang Fulu and Chen Bingzhong to be placed in the alcove—but then, maids by nature couldn't serve as door gods.
Still, by her seniority, Xiansi wasn't yet qualified for the innermost spot by the sleeping quarters.
Over the years, Liu Lun had promoted many disciples and protégés, yet he always refused to give up the duty of guarding the sleeping quarters. For no other reason than that it was where he made his living. Curled up like a turtle at the Emperor's bedside, serving tea and water in the middle of the night—when the Emperor was pleased, he might even exchange a few words with him. It was unbearably grand, a heaven-sent favor one could only dream of.
But it was truly bitter. Palace servants lodged outside could sleep on thick felt pads in winter and bamboo mats in summer, while the attendant on the innermost duty could only stand nearby or, at most, crouch or sit—no mat was allowed.
Who could sleep soundly before the Son of Heaven? It would be far too improper, and disrespectful besides. The power and wealth Liu Lun had accumulated over the years had been won with his life.
Wang Fulu said, "There is one late-night snack, easily digestible pastries. You take turns going to eat."
Xiansi had not expected such generous treatment. "Very good."
Wang Fulu said, "A special grace for those on night watch."
Wang Fulu studied Xiansi carefully. Her black hair was combed smooth and neat, and she wore an unremarkable blue padded jacket. She was like a piece of jade wrapped in gray cloth—plain and unadorned. Her bone structure was exquisitely beautiful, the corners of her lips slightly upturned, her face pale, with a small mole at the corner of one eye—a sight that made one's heart skip a beat.
She was under his godfather Liu Lun's protection.
Wang Fulu thought, with looks like hers, this woman was bound for great things in the future—or else she was someone his godfather was keeping for himself as a companion.
The hour of the Dog was nearly over. The palace gates were locked, and servants without duties there left the Palace of Heavenly Purity, leaving it utterly silent.
In the alcove, a blurry moonlight filtered in. The elegant chamber held an Arhat couch of white marble, a black lacquered incense table, sandalwood wardrobes, and an auspicious beast incense burner curling with wisps of smoke.
The carpet was thick, swallowing every footstep.
The stove warmed the room; anyone who stayed long grew stifled and sweaty.
Xiansi stood properly in the corner of the wall, no different from the silent, burning lamp stands—inanimate objects. Time itself seemed to stop flowing.
During the day, she had folded clothes here; even now, the faint fragrance of the soap used on them lingered.
After roughly an hour, a quarter of an hour into the hour of the Pig, the Emperor finally arrived.
One of Xiansi's night watch duties was to help the Emperor change his clothes and attend him to bed. Liu Lun treated her well—this was a fine assignment, but also an extreme test.
Since she could hardly avoid close contact with the Emperor, whether she could observe the proper boundaries—working cleanly and efficiently without provoking her master's displeasure—was a great art. If she were so terrified of his countenance that she fumbled clumsily, constrained and hesitant, she would be dismissed or punished the very next day.
Her throat bobbed slightly, her palms cold. She breathed deeply and quietly, Liu Lun's instructions turning over and over in her mind.
"Your servant pays respects to Your Majesty."
When the Emperor was about five paces from her, she knelt in a full kowtow.
The footsteps of the person opposite stopped, yet she could feel his aura, colder and more menacing than a blade's edge.