Song Fuwen showed not a trace of remorse, his starkly contrasting black-and-white eyes wide open, eyebrows tightly knitted together, and lips curled in an expression both arrogant and disdainful. He sharply yelled at Li Shutiao, “Did I say you could move?”
This frightened Li Shutiao into retreating several steps, instantly extinguishing any curiosity she had. Her heart filled with unease, as she felt her good days were nearing their end and that great misfortune was about to befall her.
Sure enough, just as she had anticipated.
In the following days, “Song Danan” completely ignored her. Each day on duty, it was as if Li Shutiao didn’t exist at all. For several consecutive days, there was no communication between them. Only when Liang Jiugong came would Song Fuwen show a slight friendliness toward Li Shutiao, forcing a smile through gritted teeth, though his gaze remained cold, as if constantly shooting icy daggers at Li Shutiao.
Li Shutiao’s reaction to this was: “…”
She had tried to struggle against it—
For instance, on the first day of duty, she specially brought Song Fuwen a few small, cute-looking pastries. Unexpectedly, Song Fuwen unceremoniously slapped them away, causing the pastries to fall to the ground and shatter into crumbs.
In the afternoon, when she went to tend to the Tea Stove, Song Fuwen grabbed her by the collar and shoved her aside.
As she was about to leave duty, she politely wished Song Fuwen “Good night, sweet dreams,” but he ignored her, walking away with a cold expression.
On the second day, Li Shutiao took the tea ledger from the Tea Room and offered to help tally the remaining stock of various teas, only to be mocked by Song Fuwen for her handwriting, which he said looked like “earthworms crawling.”
Li Shutiao then turned to washing the tea set, but before she could even reach out, Song Fuwen hugged the tea set protectively, not allowing her to touch it at all.
In this manner, caught between humiliation and endurance, Li Shutiao chose to endure humbly. The outcome was that she sat on the cold bench for five days, feeling utterly wronged.
During this time, Liang Jiugong came twice. The first time, he personally came to fetch tea for the Emperor and casually asked how Li Shutiao was performing in the Tea Room. Song Fuwen replied, “Passable.”
The second time he came, he repeated the same question. Song Fuwen thought for a moment, forced a smile, and praised Li Shutiao as having “exceptional comprehension.”
Listening nearby, Li Shutiao blinked.
Exceptional comprehension?
Her?
In that instant, Li Shutiao felt as if she had suddenly understood something.
That night, back in her room, she sat at the table, pondering for a long time by the flickering candlelight until she finally had a profound realization—
Why was she so determined to compete with Song Fuwen for tasks?
What good would come from winning?
None.
Not even a little.
And what if she lost?
Losing… wouldn’t that be exactly what she wanted?
She could then be “forced by circumstances” to “have no choice” but to contentedly become a carefree, dreamless, and happy slacker.
Moreover, in a place like the Forbidden City, the prevailing principle had always been “more work leads to more mistakes.” Doing no work wasn’t an option either, so the ideal state was to do “less work” or have others do the work for you!
Yes, that was it!
Clenching her small fists, Li Shutiao solemnly decided on her coping strategy.
The next day, upon arriving at the Tea Room, she lazily plopped down on the small stool in the corner, curled her legs, hugged her knees, rested her chin on her arms, and began staring blankly with lackluster eyes.
Song Fuwen, however, believed she had intimidated Li Shutiao into submission, feeling rather smug. As she worked, her hips swayed even more exaggeratedly.
She first tidied the tea table, then picked up a cloth to wipe the display shelves behind her. After retrieving the tea leaves the Emperor would drink that day from the shelves, she swayed her hips past Li Shutiao, went outside to fetch a small bucket of spring water, and leisurely began heating the water to brew tea.
When the Emperor returned from the morning court session, she promptly brought the freshly brewed hot tea to the outer chamber. There, she handed it to a young eunuch for poison testing and sampling before bowing and presenting it to Liang Jiugong. She watched as Liang Jiugong carried the tea into the Imperial Study, then turned back to the Tea Room.
As she passed Li Shutiao, she let out a deliberate “hmph” through her nose.
Li Shutiao didn’t hear it at all, only sensing something flit past her eyes. She blinked, shifted her posture, and continued daydreaming.
That morning, Song Fuwen heated seven pots of water and delivered five cups of tea to the Imperial Study.
After half an hour of idleness, Li Shutiao found herself with nothing to do. She straightened up, leaned against the wall, crossed her legs, and began observing Song Fuwen out of sheer boredom.
She soon noticed Song Fuwen’s meticulous tea-brewing routine: Song Fuwen would wait for the water in the tea stove to boil twice before lifting it from the tea stove. With a flick of her wrist, she poured the steaming water from low to high, gradually filling the teacup.
She first rinsed the teacup with hot water, then used a tea spoon to scoop two measures of tea leaves from a canister. Gently shaking her wrist, she sprinkled the leaves into the cup before pouring scalding water from a height once more.
The first infusion of tea was discarded. The second infusion was left in the cup for seven seconds before also being poured out.
For the third infusion, she filled the cup to the brim, then circled the lid around the rim to skim off some tea. After shaking the cup twice, she left it about eighty percent full.
Finally, she wiped the exterior of the teacup clean, placed it with its saucer on a carved animal pattern rosewood tray, and hurried to deliver it to the outer chamber of the Imperial Study. 【1】
After quietly observing Song Fuwen’s entire process, Li Shutiao felt even more determined to cling to her dream of being an idle, unambitious quail.
…She absolutely did not want to brew tea!
She had seen clearly: from sterilizing the tea set onward, Song Fuwen never used the tea tongs on the table. Nearly every step was done directly with her hands, even when the hot water scalded her fingertips bright red—her movements never faltered.
She performed like an unfeeling, painless iron-handed tea-brewing machine.
It made Li Shutiao inwardly grimace and ache in sympathy.
She ended up sincerely grateful for Song Fuwen’s “ostracism” toward her—after all, she truly had no desire for the “privilege” of brewing tea for the Emperor!
…
Li Shutiao’s journey of waiting for employment only felt slightly dismissive and wronged during the first five days. After that, it became smooth and enjoyable.
Another seven or eight days passed, and finally, it was payday.
The distribution of allowances for all palace staff in the Qianqing Palace had to go through Liang Jiugong. He first sent someone to the Internal Affairs Office to collect all the monthly silver, then adjusted the amounts based on each person’s performance that month—adding rewards or making deductions. He then handed the silver and the ledger, which served as everyone’s pay slip, to the four matrons of the Qianqing Palace, who arranged for the distribution to be carried out accordingly.
All this information had been personally told to her by Lin Momo.
There was no helping it—who told Li Shutiao she hadn’t managed to make any friends in Qianqing Palace?
It was only at this point that she realized Song Fuwen seemed to hold quite a high status among the palace maids of Qianqing Palace…
So, since Song Fuwen disliked her, openly and covertly made things difficult for her, ostracized and ignored her everywhere, naturally, no one would bother to befriend her out of idleness.
Despite this, Li Shutiao still made efforts, thinking, “If the mountain won’t come to me, then I’ll go to the mountain myself.”
So she spent five taels of silver to order four plates of pastries from the Imperial Kitchen, packed them heavily into a food box, and carried it back to her residence in Qianqing Palace. Just then, she happened to see several off-duty palace maids laughing and playing in the courtyard.
Summoning her courage, Li Shutiao walked toward them. As she drew closer, their chatter grew clearer.
She overheard them saying:
“The day before yesterday, His Majesty summoned that one again to accompany him. Guess what happened? Before even an incense stick’s worth of time had passed in the East Pavilion, His Majesty was called away by Consort Tong’s people.”
“Hahaha, really?”
“Of course it’s true! I work in the East Pavilion—why would I lie to you?”
“If you ask me, what’s the use of being an Imperial Attendant? She’s not a proper consort in the rear palace, not even a low-ranking lady. I don’t know what she’s so proud of all day…”
Li Shutiao’s ears quickly caught several keywords: the day before yesterday, accompanying His Majesty, Consort Tong, Imperial Attendant.
Wasn’t that Qingyao?
Li Shutiao tightened her grip on the food box: “…”
After listening a bit more and confirming they were indeed talking about Qingyao, she bit her lip, turned around expressionlessly, and walked away as if having made some firm resolution.
Back in her room, she carelessly tossed the food box onto the table, stood stiffly with a stern face, puffed out her cheeks, and grew angrier the more she thought, and the more she thought, the angrier she became—there was not a shred of calm left in her.
Finally, so enraged that her mind was a tangled mess, she cast aside all thoughts of making friends and rationality. Only one thought circled in her head: No one gets to insult her best friend!
Then she stormed out the door and fiercely quarreled with those gossipy palace maids.
The commotion quickly drew the attention of Liang Jiugong and several Momos.
Seeing Liang Jiugong arrive with others, Li Shutiao’s previously furious expression swiftly turned pitiful, tears streaming down her face.
Right in front of all the superiors, she hoarsely and tearfully repeated the palace maids’ conversation word for word.
Throughout, the palace maids tried countless times to defend themselves, but every time one of them opened her mouth, Li Shutiao cunningly raised the volume of her sobs—melancholy and delicate—blocking them from uttering a complete sentence. They could only stammer repeatedly, “Chief Steward Liang, we’re wronged… wronged…”
Wronged what?
Naturally, they meant “wronged.”
But Li Shutiao wouldn’t give them the chance. Crying, tattling, and kneeling, she crawled over on her knees and clung to the leg of Lin Momo, the most good-natured among the Momos. Her accusations sounded both coquettish and pleading, moving even the sternest Gong Momo to show a trace of sympathy and compassion.
After all, Li Shutiao was naturally beautiful. When she curved her eyes and smiled softly while speaking to others, she easily evoked the image of dazzlingly gorgeous spring flowers bathed in the first light of dawn—a sight unforgettable after just one glance.
And when she cried, she resembled an autumn begonia that, despite enduring wind and rain, still stood resilient and unyielding, evoking nothing but heartache in those who saw her.
…At the very least, everyone present felt varying degrees of pity for her.
Without hesitation, they coldly ordered the palace maids to be dragged away and given forty slaps each.
After this incident, Li Shutiao became somewhat famous among the servants of Qianqing Palace—though not for any positive reasons.
Thus, when it came time for Qianqing Palace to distribute monthly allowances, no one took the initiative to inform her where to collect hers.
—Her allowance was personally delivered to her by Lin Momo.