Palace Maid Favored with Exclusive Grace
By Liang Ximi
“The heart’s lamp does not borrow another’s flame;
It illuminates the world with each step, bright and plain.”
/
The fifth day of the twelfth lunar month, the fourth year of Tianqi.
Snowflakes danced amid rising clouds; the night window shone as bright as day.
It was the heart of winter. Blue bricks and dark tiles lay buried beneath the white snow, lying dormant in the quiet of the night.
The sound of the Pingdan Watch echoed from the long street, from east to west, rousing every sleeping soul. The Yeting Palace Workshops instantly came alive. In the dim, pre-dawn light, the palace servants on duty busied themselves with washing and tidying up. As usual, Song Shutang readied herself and went out with her companions.
Yesterday’s snowfall was the first of the year. The long street was blanketed in pure white; stepping into it, one’s calves would sink halfway in. The biting cold wind seeped into the bones, and every exhale turned into mist.
Grabbing shovels, they started clearing the snow from the middle of the road, pushing it to both sides to make a path for people to walk. Daybreak was near, and delaying the masters’ travels would be a grave offense.
Having served as a Sweeping Maid in the Yeting for two years, Song Shutang was long accustomed to such tasks. She shoveled the snow into piles by the wall, then swept the area with a broom. Once the midday sun grew strong and melted the snow into water, she would return to clean it up again.
The young maid working alongside her had just entered the palace this year and was only thirteen years old. Halfway through the work, she began to struggle, her cheeks flushed red as she slowed her movements.
She tucked the broom under her arm, cupped her hands to her mouth, and blew warm air into them, her gaze settling on Song Shutang. “Sister, you’re so beautiful!”
The young woman was still diligently working. Though dressed in the coarse cloth uniform of a palace maid, her figure was slender and her posture upright. When she looked up, her lovely features became even clearer.
From her very first day in the Yeting, the young maid had thought Sister Song was exceptionally beautiful.
Her face, small as a palm, was adorned with delicate, vivid features, as if meticulously carved by the Creator herself. Her brows were like distant hills, her eyes like clear springs, her nose straight and refined, and her lips naturally red without any rouge. Her flawless, jade-like skin was the kind of beauty that drew eyes at a single glance.
Song Shutang curved her eyes into a gentle smile. “You, you little flatterer. I heard today’s lunch is a seasonal Mushroom and Lamb Hotpot. Are you craving it?”
Mushroom and Lamb Hotpot? The young maid’s eyes lit up, and she nodded.
Song Shutang glanced at the remaining work—it wasn’t too much. “If you’re tired, take a rest.”
The young maid felt a bit embarrassed. Song Shutang was always diligent and responsible in her work, never bullying others. Instead, she often showed her patience and kindness—truly an excellent person. “Sister, you…” she said, looking around and lowering her voice, “…should be a mistress and enjoy a life of fortune.”
Having been in the palace for just over half a year, she hadn’t seen many mistresses. Take that Kang Baolin, for example—she wasn’t half as beautiful as Sister Song, yet she wore fine clothes and had little maidservants attending to her.
Wouldn’t that be a hundred times more comfortable than being a maid here?
To her surprise, Song Shutang’s expression suddenly turned cold. “Watch your words!”
“What was the first rule the instructress taught you on your first day in the palace?”
Her tone was stern, her eyes no longer as gentle as usual. The young maid swallowed hard, her smile freezing on her face. “The instructress said… don’t say what shouldn’t be said, don’t ask what shouldn’t be asked.”
But she still wanted to argue further. “But Sister, we’re so close. I truly wish this for you, and besides, there’s no one else around…”
Song Shutang looked at the girl before her, her eyes dark and somber. She was still so young and naive, unaware that the palace was a place that could devour people. “What if I were to go tell Auntie right now what you just said?”
“Or what if some mistress happened to pass by here at this moment—what would she think?”
She rarely spoke with such sternness, yet every word she said was undeniably reasonable. “You must remember, in this palace, you can only rely on yourself.”
The young palace maid nodded blankly.
Before the Song family fell from power, she too had been an innocent, carefree girl who knew nothing of the world. Even after entering the palace as a servant, she had carried many traces of her former self—like speaking too quickly or having a simple, straightforward mind.
But kneeling in punishment under the scorching summer sun and enduring beatings from higher-ranking palace maids—these were the things that truly taught a person to grow.
Song Shutang sighed, her expression softening slightly. She had said all she needed to say. If the young maid’s words hadn’t involved her, she wouldn’t have spoken so much. “Let’s get back to work.”
/
The snow continued to fall. By the time they finished sweeping and returned to the Yeting, her face and hands were numb from the cold. She was just using a hot towel to warm them when someone called for her from outside the room.
It was someone from Auntie Cui’s side. Song Shutang stood up and went over, then nodded. “I’ll come right away.”
Auntie Cui was the senior palace maid in charge of the Yeting, having served there for over twenty years. Everyone respectfully addressed her as “Auntie.”
Tap, tap, tap—two short knocks followed by a longer one. Cui Wenshu knew exactly who it was and chuckled.
“Aren’t you coming in?”
Cui Wenshu’s room was a slightly larger suite. Though she was still a servant, this treatment was uniquely hers.
Song Shutang gently pushed the door open and, as was customary, left a small crack when closing it. But a voice came from inside: “Close it tight.” So she did as instructed.
“It’s snowing. I made knee pads for you a few days ago, Auntie. Would you like to see them?”
As she spoke, Song Shutang walked in with a smile.
Cui Wenshu beckoned her over. “Come, sit down.”
Only then did Song Shutang notice that a low stool had already been prepared beside her. In front of them, black charcoal burned red-hot. Though it emitted black smoke and couldn’t compare to the precious charcoal used in the mistresses’ quarters, it was wonderfully warm.
She smiled gratefully and thanked Auntie Cui, handing over the item in her hands before sitting down without hesitation and leaning forward to warm herself by the fire.
Cui Wenshu examined the knee pads from both sides. The fabric wasn’t particularly luxurious, but the stitching was fine and tight, stuffed with cotton inside. Embroidered on them were auspicious bat and deer patterns, symbols of good fortune and prosperity. She couldn’t help but stroke them affectionately. “You’re always so thoughtful.”
Having spent many years in the palace, her ability to read people was masterful. She knew very well who was sincere, who was pretending, and who approached her with ulterior motives.
After spending a year with Song Shutang, she had come to regard the girl as her own daughter in her heart. The young woman was beautiful, clever, and had a good temperament—perfect for lifting her spirits now and then.
“It’s your birthday today. Did you have noodles this morning?”
The warmth from the charcoal fire enveloped her comfortably. The parts of her face and hands that had been frozen earlier now tingled slightly with warmth. “You’re always so caring, Auntie. Yes, I did.”
In truth, she had returned late from work, and the kitchen staff hadn’t bothered to keep any noodles for her. But that was a minor matter.
Cui Wenshu nodded, then gave her a birthday gift and exchanged a few casual words before turning her gaze seriously toward Song Shutang.
“I called you here today because there’s something I need to tell you.”
She was well aware of Song Shutang’s background—the family estate sealed, parents and siblings exiled for crimes, and she herself reduced from a young lady of privilege to a lowly servant. She entered the palace at just fourteen, still a mere girl.
She had watched her grow step by step into the person she was today.
Song Shutang slowly withdrew the hand she had extended toward the fire. “Auntie, please speak.”
“You should know that new consorts will enter the palace next April.”
Song Shutang nodded; she was indeed aware.
The current emperor had been on the throne for four years and had never held an imperial selection until this year. From high-ranking nobles and officials down to minor clerks in the provinces, all families with unmarried daughters of suitable age were required to participate.
After layers of selection, a group of candidate maidens would enter the palace by March next year. Following the palace hall selection, around April, the imperial selection would conclude, and all the newly chosen consorts would then enter the palace.
“Are you willing to serve in the palace of a new consort?”
“But according to custom, when new consorts enter the palace, maids and eunuchs are purchased from outside…”
“Our emperor has always avoided extravagance. Some will be purchased, while the rest will be allocated from various palaces.”
Though it was said to be allocated from various palaces, most would come from Neishi Hall and Yeting, so she had quite a few slots at her disposal.
Song Shutang pursed her lips, her expression serious as she pondered.
Cui Wenshu did not interrupt her, instead picking up a pair of knee pads nearby to examine carefully.
Song Shutang was a clever girl. She ought to know how to choose between remaining an unnoticed sweeping maid in Yeting or stepping forward to serve a new mistress.
For most, this was indeed an excellent opportunity.
The new consorts would enter with varying ranks. Those of higher rank could bring two personal maids with them, while those of lower rank might bring only one maid or even enter alone. In such cases, one could vie for a prominent position by the mistress’s side.
After all, in the palace now, above were the Empress and Consort Zhen, and below were consorts like Jing Zhaoyi—all long-standing figures by the emperor’s side, tightly knit and accustomed to their own people.
Establishing oneself in the palace had always relied on influence. With influence, one could gain everything. Even as a mere servant, one would strive relentlessly to climb higher.
But Song Shutang’s considerations went far beyond that.
She, too, wanted to climb higher.
But she did not want to remain a servant for life.
No matter how favored one might be by a mistress, they were still just a servant—subject to beatings and punishments, granted favor only when the mistress was pleased.
She lowered her gaze, thinking intently for a few moments, then rose and knelt down. When she looked up, her expression was one of utmost seriousness:
“Auntie, Shutang knows you care for me.”
Cui Wenshu did not respond, quietly awaiting her next words.
“But, Shutang… does not wish to remain a servant forever.”
The woman’s eyes held ambition, tinged with a hint of unease. She moved forward two steps and knelt, placing her hands on Cui Wenshu’s knees. “Could I beg Auntie to help me once more?”
“You…”
Even someone as composed as Cui Wenshu could not help but frown at this. “You mean…”
Song Shutang gave a slight nod.
From her first year in the palace, when someone contemptuously lifted her chin and made her kneel for two hours in the bitter cold of winter, she had resolved not to remain a servant.
She wanted to be a mistress, to rise above others.
Cui Wenshu sat above, while the woman looked up at her, her strikingly beautiful face fully revealed.
Indeed, many of the mistresses and ladies in the palace could not compare to her in beauty, and the ambition in her eyes was not concealed in the slightest.
However, Cui Wenshu’s gaze was sharp:
“Do you know that becoming a mistress in this palace is not so easy?”
Having been in the palace for nearly thirty years, what had she not seen? This place was a den that devoured people! How many women had perished in the rear palace, and how many wronged souls drifted in the midnight dreams?
She cherished Song Shutang and could not bear to see her suffer.
Song Shutang’s raven-black eyelashes trembled slightly, her voice soft yet resolute:
“Shutang understands.”
Author’s Note:
Seeking support for the same-genre palace intrigue pre-release “The Noble Consort Alone Captures the Emperor’s Heart.” Synopsis below:
Liang Fu was the most neglected illegitimate daughter of the Changning Bo Mansion. Having endured over a decade of hardship, she knew best that fate must be grasped in her own hands.
The year she came of age coincided with the emperor’s Imperial Selection to replenish the rear palace.
She struck a deal with her father.
After the selection, she entered the palace as she wished. Though only a sixth-rank Baolin (Precious Forest), she knew this was merely the beginning.
In the palace, she treated the emperor with gentle affection, feigned camaraderie with the consorts, and remained cautious in all matters. Within just a few years, she climbed to the position of Palace Mistress.
Everyone said she enjoyed enduring favor and was the emperor’s most beloved. She merely curled her lips—this was far from enough.
What she wanted had always been clear.
To ascend the palace heights and stand above all others.
/
Newly enthroned and with an unstable foundation, the Imperial Selection was meant only to balance the court. The new consorts were nothing but pawns.
Fu Qingheng maneuvered among the palaces, never revealing the emperor’s true heart.
Whom to favor, whom to neglect—it was all at his whim.
But Liang Fu was an exception. Beautiful, knowing her place, gentle and affectionate, never jealous, and of lowly family background.
She was a pawn that was easy to use and required little effort.
Yet, from some unknown moment,
He began to despise the very qualities he once admired most in her.
He, too, began to desire sincerity.