The winter sky was bone-chillingly cold.
When Wen Lier awoke, the sky outside was still shrouded in gray.
The palace maids Qing Zhu and Qing Mei brought warm water and attended to her morning ablutions.
Wen Lier’s body had woken, but her spirit had not yet stirred. She kept her eyes closed, washing up in a daze.
Only when Qing Zhu wiped her face with a damp towel did Wen Lier reluctantly open her eyes.
She spread her arms, and Qing Mei stepped forward to help her into her outer garments.
Outside, heavy snow weighed down the branches, blanketing the world in pure white.
The bitter wind fiercely invaded the bedchamber, as if seeking warmth itself.
Wen Lier shivered from the cold, longing to crawl back into bed but forcing herself to endure.
During breakfast, the sound of palace servants shoveling snow echoed from outside the hall.
Shovel after shovel, the rhythmic noise made Wen Lier’s teeth chatter involuntarily.
She couldn’t help but sigh.
Seeing her like this, Mama Qin comforted her in a low voice: “Mistress, spring is not far off. Endure a little longer, and the journey to pay respects won’t feel so cold.”
Wen Lier thought to herself: Even if this winter passes, there will be next winter. If she lived to become an old crone, there would be countless winters ahead.
She continued eating in silence.
Wen Lier was a concubine of the Crown Prince, holding the lowest rank of Bong Yi.
Breakfast consisted of a bowl of porridge, a plate of pancakes, some pastries, along with one meat and one vegetable dish.
Wen Lier wasn’t picky—she ate almost everything edible.
After finishing her meal, she patted her full stomach and rose to speak.
“Let’s set off too, so we won’t be the last to arrive.”
Qing Zhu brought over a smoky cyan cloak and draped it over her shoulders.
Then she walked ahead, holding a lantern to light the way.
Master and servant left Yaohua Hall and headed toward Fuyao Hall.
The continuous palace structures stood against the thick gray dawn like rolling mountain ranges, creating a suffocating sight.
Before long, they heard Lin Fengyi and her servant catching up from behind.
“Sister Wen, wait for me!”
Wen Lier turned and stood waiting.
Lin Fujia shared Yaohua Hall in the Eastern Palace with Wen Lier, along with another Bong Yi named Yang Ni Shan.
All three had been appointed Bong Yi just months ago, but only Yang Ni Shan had served the night.
The moment Lin Fujia caught up, she immediately told Wen Lier: “Sister Yang served again last night! When I got up during the night, I happened to see her returning—she had to be supported by her maid while walking, looking utterly delicate.”
Anyone could detect the sour note in her words.
Wen Lier smiled: “Don’t fret, Sister Lin. Your turn will come eventually.”
Hearing this, Lin Fujia’s cheeks flushed crimson.
Twisting her handkerchief shyly, she said: “Even if it’s my turn, you should go first, Sister. You’re so graceful and have such a lovely figure—you just haven’t had Sister Yang’s luck.”
Wen Lier shook her head: “Good luck or bad, it’s all the same.”
Her tone carried a distant melancholy and an indescribable detachment.
Once you entered the imperial palace, you were shackled.
Whether you served the night or not, whether you gained favor or not—what difference did it make? You were still living in a cage.
If there was any difference, it was that those with lower ranks had to endure greater hardships.
Lin Fujia looked at her in confusion—why wasn’t Sister Wen the least bit expectant?
Wen Lier offered a gentle smile: “Let’s go.”
“Oh, alright.”
The two continued toward Fuyao Hall.
Listening to the crunching sound beneath her feet, Wen Lier couldn’t help but recall the stifled sobs of her parents and elder brother on the day they sent her into the palace.
How should she live, to set her family’s hearts at ease?
How should one live, to not waste this journey through the world?
Originally, Wen Lier knew exactly what kind of life she wanted—she had always loved living.
But since entering the palace, she had become truly lost, unsure which direction to channel her efforts in the future.
Or rather, what exactly must she do to live longer and more freely?
Half a year ago, the imperial edict for selecting palace maidens was proclaimed throughout the land.
Her parents hastily sought potential matches for her.
Yet the more rushed they were, the more mistakes they made—no suitable young man they considered seemed satisfactory.
Later, her parents finally found a newly appointed scholar, whose family status matched theirs.
They heard this scholar had excellent character.
Wen Lier met him once and nodded in agreement. After several more encounters, she felt quite content with him.
She had always been easygoing, preferring to adapt to circumstances.
As long as the man she married wasn’t old, ugly, or abusive, she was willing to build a life with him.
Supporting her husband and raising children, living her own life well.
As the selection date drew nearer, her parents urged the scholar’s family to finalize the betrothal quickly.
But in the blink of an eye, he was chosen by a young lady from a more prominent family.
The two married swiftly.
Her parents were furious, cursing his entire family before turning to find another suitable husband for her.
Stung by the betrayal, they began comparing every new prospect to that scholar.
Parents everywhere are likely the same—believing their children deserve the finest partners in the world.
Unfortunately, none of the men she met afterward measured up to that scholar.
Her parents, unwilling to settle, delayed making a decision.
Finally, the selection day arrived.
Wen Lier packed her belongings and entered the palace alone.
Initially, she hadn’t shared her parents’ anxiety.
After all, the capital was filled with beauties, talented women, and brilliant minds.
Her looks were merely above average—how could she possibly catch the emperor’s eye?
Almost everyone in the capital knew the old emperor doted exclusively on Yang Guifei.
That consort was a peerless beauty who, even after bearing two sons and a daughter, remained deeply favored.
Wen Lier had always been self-aware—the old emperor’s standards were too high for her to be chosen.
As expected, after the lengthy selection process, the old emperor did not choose her.
Before she could rejoice, the Empress selected her instead, bestowing her upon the Eastern Palace.
Comparing the two outcomes, Wen Lier wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved that it wasn’t the old emperor who had chosen her.
After all, the old emperor was several years older than her father, while the Crown Prince was at least young, handsome, majestic in bearing, and brilliantly talented.
As Wen Lier reminisced about this illusory half-year, she didn’t notice Lin Fujia calling her several times.
“Sister Wen?”
Seeing her as if suddenly entranced, Lin Fujia waved a hand in front of her eyes.
“Sister Wen, what’s wrong? Are you still unwell?”
After entering the Eastern Palace, Wen Lier suffered a setback and fell gravely ill.
She couldn’t even recognize the palace maids assigned to her, let alone serve the Crown Prince.
The illness dragged on until now.
After lying in bed for so long, Wen Lier had come to a realization.
She would take life as it comes—when mountains don’t move, rivers will find a way. Surviving well was what mattered most.
“Sister Lin, I’m fine. Let’s hurry, or we’ll be late.”
“Alright.”
Fuyao Hall.
Crown Princess Xie Zhenrong had just risen and was currently dressing and applying her makeup.
By the time Wen Lier and Lin Fujia arrived, Yang Ni Shan had already gotten there first.
The three of them waited in the warm pavilion, not feeling cold at all.