After the rain had washed over it, the Palace of Heavenly Purity stood magnificent and resplendent, its upturned eaves soaring into the boundless blue sky. A rainbow, pale as mist, hung overhead; the palace's unattainable majesty seemed renewed.
White cranes danced in the courtyard, and the alchemy tripod censers gave off a fragrance, ethereal and distant, like a fairyland.
Xiansi and the other palace maids were going about their duties, sweeping away the pooled water, when Eunuch Liu Lun, the Chief Steward of the Palace of Heavenly Purity, suddenly called her over. His face was stern, lacking his usual kindly warmth, as if on official business.
Xiansi tensed, set down her broom, and hurried over in small quick steps.
Liu Lun cleared his throat and solemnly announced: "Your departure from the palace after autumn is postponed for now. You are permitted to remain in the palace for a while longer."
Hearing this, Xiansi was dazed, unable to make sense of the situation or tell whether it was joy or sorrow. She asked softly, "Chief Steward, why would such great imperial grace be bestowed upon me?"
"When the Master bestows something upon you, you accept it. Do not ask questions."
There was a rare touch of anger in Liu Lun's tone. He himself was utterly baffled, suspecting that Xiansi had had the audacity to petition the Emperor directly—otherwise, why would the Emperor inexplicably strike her name off the departure list?
The girl's wings had hardened, he thought—scheming behind his back. What nerve. She had learned to presume above her station. And with that, all his painstaking plans for her—leaving the palace, the Liu family, a stable and happy life for her remaining years—had all come to nothing.
But no matter what, the imperial decree had been issued, and who could defy their sovereign and father's command? Marked in red by the Emperor's own hand, it was settled beyond all appeal. Even reduced to ashes, Xiansi could not step half a pace beyond the palace walls; there was no room left to reverse the matter. Both the thunder and the dew are the Emperor's mercy—their sovereign and father's magnanimity is as vast as heaven and earth; even if he ordered Xiansi to die, she would have to kowtow in gratitude for the gift of death.
Xiansi lowered her long lashes, not daring to talk back. From Liu Lun's words, she could at least confirm two things: first, the decree came from the Emperor himself; second, it was fresh and new, having arrived only recently.
She would never have dared overstep her station to beg the Emperor, nor did she have the fortune to stay long in the palace. Just as Eunuch Liu had said, this overwhelming favor had inexplicably landed on her.
"Chief Steward…"
Seeing her so prim and deferential, the very picture of a born servant, Liu Lun decided she surely lacked the nerve to petition the Emperor directly—and was hardly worthy of it anyway. The Emperor's heart is unfathomable, shifting like the weather. So that was how it was.
He steadied himself for a moment, his tone softening: "Enough. I merely came to inform you. Get back to your duties."
With dozens of eyes watching, this was no place for conversation.
Poor Liu family—their joy had been for nothing. The sky had fallen.
Xiansi lowered her brows and bowed. Wrapped in drab grey court robes, her hair in a plain bun, her features were nonetheless perfectly proportioned, unaggressive, like a piece of unpolished jade fallen in the grass, possessing a distinctive charm that grew more pleasing the longer one looked.
Watching Xiansi's retreating figure, a thought gradually surfaced in Liu Lun's mind—one that could frighten him to death. Could it be that the Emperor…
Xiansi, however, believed she had become a pawn in a power struggle between the Emperor and the Empress Dowager.
That the Emperor and the Empress Dowager were not on good terms was a secret of tacit understanding. Since the Empress Dowager had already approved the departure list, the Emperor insisted on making some change to slight her—so he had chosen Xiansi's name.
She would gladly have stayed in the palace her whole life anyway, so this was a fortuitous accident, an unexpected blessing. As for the marriage with the Liu family, she could only send word through someone to cancel it.
Xiansi picked up her broom again and, by chance, caught sight of the stern Senior Maid Jinshu not far away—her hair coiled neatly without a single stray strand—as she scolded a young maid who had made a mistake. Perhaps she too would face the fate of living as a spinster.
A sense of pride in being a servant welled up in Xiansi's heart. She bowed low, as if she were the most loyal and favored of servants. After all, not everyone had the honor of serving the Emperor and the future Empress for a lifetime.
In the dark room, Chen Bingzhong, who was brewing tea, quietly overheard the whispered exchange between Liu Lun and Xiansi, and nearly ground a tooth to pieces.
She didn't have to leave the palace after all.
The Emperor's exceptional favor toward her was truly enviable and infuriating to the extreme.
In the fourth month, the weather gradually warmed. The Golden Water River shimmered, bees and butterflies fluttered through the Imperial Garden, and spring was in full swing as preparations for the Emperor's wedding proceeded in an orderly fashion.
With the Ministry of Rites taking the lead, the Empress Dowager personally selected the candidate for Empress. The proposal gifts, the inquiry into the bride's name, the delivery of betrothal gifts, the ceremonial welcome… a series of rigorous and elaborate procedures, a thousand tangled threads, each step taking an extremely long time. The Son of Heaven would not personally escort the bride; it was a marriage arranged blind.
The woman's side could choose an auspicious date to send her into the palace. The Son of Heaven could glance down at her from behind a screen, and she could faintly catch a glimpse of the Imperial Countenance. This was a tradition dating back to Emperor Chengzu's reign, and the Empress Dowager followed the old precedent.
Who could have expected that on the day of the meeting, the Imperial Presence never arrived at all.
The future Empress waited in vain at Shoukang Palace for four full hours. The Empress Dowager was quietly displeased and sent the head maid to the Palace of Heavenly Purity to ask whether the Emperor had been delayed by pressing affairs of state.
The reply from the Palace of Heavenly Purity was that the Emperor had no affairs of state that morning.
The Empress Dowager had hit a wall.
No affairs of state meant he simply didn't want to come—refusing to give her, the Empress Dowager, face, refusing to honor her.
This stepson had thoroughly set himself against her.
Now that he held the reins of power, with the Mandate of Heaven upon him, his conduct grew ever more unpredictable, full of capricious political maneuvering. The palace maids and eunuchs had to guess his will, the Grand Secretariat had to guess it, and even she, Empress Dowager of two reigns, had to condescend to guess at his intentions.
The entire court was in a state of frantic agitation over the selection of the Empress, while that young emperor sat quietly at the eye of the storm, seemingly adept at using psychological tactics to provoke the kind of negative emotions that made others lose their wits.
The Empress Dowager truly regretted her decision—why had she chosen the heir of such a remote vassal state to be Emperor? She had thought him easy to control, but who could have expected…
Just as her anger was at its peak, the Directorate of Ceremonies arrived again.
The Directorate's people presented the roster of maids due to leave the palace to the Empress Dowager once more. The Empress Dowager's seal she had previously affixed had been rejected—His Majesty had crossed out one maid's name. He troubled the Empress Dowager to affix the seal anew according to the imperial will.
The Empress Dowager's face went pale; she nearly vomited blood from rage.
…
Though gossip was officially forbidden in the palace, the servants lived in close quarters, seeing each other day and night, and the news that Xiansi, despite reaching the required age, would not have to leave the palace soon spread everywhere.
The younger maids all envied Xiansi's good fortune—she served attentively, her skills were practiced, and she had a gentle, inoffensive face that made her beloved by her master, who had broken precedent to bestow such imperial grace upon her.
Old eunuch Liu Lun was nearing the end of his usefulness, and there was no head maid with real authority in the Palace of Heavenly Purity. In time, Xiansi would very likely become the foremost among the Emperor's personal servants, enjoying a meteoric rise in rank.
At this critical juncture, how many people secretly envied and hated her, wanting to tear her flesh and drink her blood, wishing desperately for her to make a mistake.
As it happened, Xiansi had a placid temperament. Even when faced with imperial grace that would make others' jaws drop, she was neither arrogant nor restless—she still walked with quiet composure and handled her tasks impeccably. When favor arrived, she had the ability to receive it.
Wang Fulu felt a secret awe. His earlier judgment had been right after all: this woman had a boundless future ahead of her—no ordinary person.
Afternoon.
Xiansi performed three kowtows before the gates of the Palace of Heavenly Purity, thanking the Emperor for his grace.
Her stooped figure was swallowed by the thick black shadow beneath the double eaves, less than a speck of dust.
"This humble servant thanks Your Majesty for the grace of not being cast aside."
The old maid's firm, clear voice echoed between the towering pillars, filled with sincere loyalty and gratitude.
Heaven only knew how greatly that one stroke of the great one's pen had changed her fate.
The grace of not being cast aside. Yes, as a servant, she was deeply grateful to the Emperor. Her greatest wish in this life was to remain in the palace forever, serving the Emperor and the consorts, devoting herself entirely until the very end. It was the Emperor who had given her the chance to fulfill that dream.
Liu Lun, watching from the side, had come to terms with it as well.
Though the marriage with the Liu family had fallen through, Xiansi had after all been promoted, and his duties now officially had someone to inherit them. Why insist on leaving the palace only to face a precarious, drifting existence out there? That Liu family might not be anything good anyway.
Xiansi was thriving in the Palace of Heavenly Purity, dignified and respected, serving as head maid. In the future, when she grew old, she could idle away her days like Senior Maid Jinshu—which was quite fine too. Even if, in a moment of confusion, she made a mistake along the way and was put to death by her master, she would still have lived half a life in comfort. The masters of the imperial palace were so exalted that even a little mercy and bounty leaked from between their fingers was more than enough for Xiansi to live on.
People—servants especially—were like leaves drifting on the water, going wherever the current took them. Fate was not their own to decide.
"Senior Maid Xiansi, the study in the second western bay—you are to go clean it this afternoon."
Wang Fulu informed Xiansi.
The Emperor's study was a place of secrets, off-limits to idle servants. That Xiansi was qualified to enter and clean it was a mark of her further elevation.
You should know that attending to brush and ink and the night watch were both top-tier coveted posts, offering many opportunities to be alone with the Emperor, even to speak with him.
If the Emperor had not shown some intention of promoting Xiansi, how would Wang Fulu have dared make such an arrangement?
Looking across the entire palace, Miss Xiansi's speed of promotion was truly staggering—no one had ever risen this way.
This afternoon, the Emperor would review memorials in the second western bay.
Besides sweeping and arranging the books, Xiansi was also responsible for grinding the ink and serving tea. The Emperor preferred quiet while reading, so the eunuchs who normally handled the ink-grinding and tea-serving were no longer allowed in.
The Emperor trusted her completely and favored her greatly.
Hearing of her assignment, Xiansi had no time to mourn the marriage with the Liu family. Sealing her heart and locking away love, she busied herself at once. If you asked what her secret was, it was simple: when serving her masters, she tried her utmost to remain inconspicuous, treating herself as a proper, regulation object—never presumptuous, but never overly fawning either.
Only when the masters were at ease could the servants live well.
The Emperor usually rose from his afternoon nap at the first quarter of the Hour of the Goat, so Xiansi had to finish sweeping and arranging the study before then. The work was not heavy: the study was swept regularly and essentially spotless, so Xiansi only needed to clean it symbolically.
As for the craft of brewing tea—that was her particular skill, trained into her bones over many years, guaranteed to satisfy her master.
The Emperor stood by the window, his side facing the desk. He wore azure robes, wide sleeves trailing to the floor, as if steeped in ink. Cold and remote, he was like the moon in daytime. He heard the sound.
Xiansi's knees struck the floor: "Peace to Your Majesty."
"Rise," he said. It was routine procedure. He instructed, "Put the flower branch into the vase."
Though Xiansi had her doubts, how could she ask the Emperor why he had crossed her name off the list of those to leave the palace? She wasn't worthy of asking. Lifting her eyes, she saw that a cluster of white camellia branches indeed sat on the imperial desk, sparsely blooming with small flowers, carelessly cast upon the solemn yellow silk memorials—as if spring itself had been carried into the lifeless great hall.
The vase was also a slender piece in ice-crack glaze, pale white.
The fragrance of the flowers drifted thick and thin, tinged with a Daoist sense of holiness.
Xiansi stepped quietly over, picked up the branches, and arranged them in order. As for the densely spread confidential memorials and the secret letters delivered by the Emperor's deadly agents in the Embroidered Uniform Guard, she dared not spare them so much as half a glance.
Bending low, she lifted the finished vase with both hands above her head. Hanzheng lightly brushed the flower branch; the faint chill between his fingertips and the blossoms seemed to settle upon her head as well.
His gaze was entirely on the flowers.
"Very clever."
That was praise. Xiansi said, "To be graced by the Emperor's favor—this servant is overwhelmed."
Hanzheng paused, then brought it up: "I have not yet asked whether you wish to remain at my side, or to leave the palace."
Xiansi's heart skipped a beat, but she answered without betraying anything: "To remain at Your Majesty's side is what this servant could only dream of."
"Mm," he said, his tone rising slightly, as if in agreement. "In the future, I shall grant you a place to belong."
Xiansi's eyes flickered, as if brimming with tears: "This servant has no way to repay you."
In the sunlight where a cool breeze stirred, Hanzheng gestured for her to stand.
That she would never leave the palace for the rest of her life—this contract between master and servant was thus settled, in a tacit understanding.