Chapter 3

My mistress entered the palace with the modest rank of Beauty.

None of the newcomers received the emperor’s favor. Half a year later, His Majesty seemed to remember them at last and casually chose one woman’s name tablet for the night.

My mistress refused to accept obscurity.

She put on a flowing sea-silk dance dress and performed beneath the moon along the route the imperial procession always took. It truly won her His Majesty’s favor.

The first night she attended him in bed, I waited outside her chambers.

From beyond the palace gate came the shouts of Talented Lady Wen.

She accused my mistress of stealing the emperor’s affection and had come running to complain to His Majesty in person.

The guards dragged her away before she could draw near.

Every kind of woman could be found in the palace.

There were gentle, thoughtful beauties from humble homes, valiant daughters of military families, and even alluring tribute maidens from distant kingdoms.

To my eyes, they were all the same.

Once they entered the palace, their lives revolved around competing for one man’s favor.

My mistress did not agree.

She ran her fingers over the dazzling jewels bestowed by His Majesty, ambition bright in her eyes.

“Only a fool competes for favor in pursuit of true love. Power and status are the only things one can truly hold in one’s hands.”

The emperor loved the imperial hunt.

For his sake, my mistress learned to ride and shoot. At the autumn hunt, dressed in riding clothes, she drew her bow and killed three rabbits and a deer. His Majesty grew even fonder of her and showered her with rewards.

He even issued an edict raising Mother to the Third Master’s equal wife and granting her a posthumous title.

I imagined the Third Madam’s expression when Mother’s memorial tablet entered the ancestral shrine. It could not have been pleasant.

But would Mother truly have wanted a place in that shrine?

I did not think so.

How had she entered the Marquis’s household in the first place?

Half coaxed, half coerced.

No one had ever asked what she wanted.

As my mistress’s personal palace maid, I saw the emperor more often than many neglected consorts did.

He was attentive to my mistress.

He remembered her likes and dislikes, found her little temper endearing, and indulged every disturbance she stirred up in the inner palace.

Even toward an insignificant maid like me, he was mild and pleasant.

Yet I had not forgotten that he had once taken a woman’s life on a whim because of a dress.

He was the emperor. He could be affectionate—and utterly heartless.

One day, my mistress ordered me to take a bowl of lotus-seed soup to His Majesty. The imperial guards were changing shifts as I arrived.

I lowered my head and stepped aside to pass them.

Then I noticed a tear in one guard’s sleeve.

The crescent-shaped rip exposed threads of red gold beneath, likely worn through by the friction of martial practice.

I followed him out of the palace passage and spoke softly when he turned around.

“My lord, your sleeve is torn. If it is not mended at once, you may be punished for appearing improperly dressed before His Majesty.”

He stopped and looked at me.

His eyes were as black as ink and as still as distant mountains.

He said nothing. I took the needle and thread from the pouch I always carried and offered them to him with both hands.

“If my lord does not mind, you may mend it yourself.”

“How fine is your stitching?”

He raised his arm and held the torn sleeve in front of me, plainly expecting me to sew it.

I glanced around. Once I was sure no one was watching, I threaded the needle and worked quickly, laying the stitches in neat, even lines hidden inside the cuff.

“This servant will take her leave.”

I bowed silently.

He called me back without warning.

“Which palace do you serve?”

I bowed my head even lower. “My lord is a favored son of heaven, while this servant is no more than common willow fluff. There is no need for us to know one another.”

It would be disastrous if anyone saw a palace maid entangled with a guard.

I fled as if for my life.

No imperial guard serving before the emperor was an ordinary man. Plenty of palace maids tried to attach themselves to such men.

He probably thought I had the same ambition.

But I had no desire to leap into the clouds in a single step.

The more people one knew, however, the more one could hear and see.

Only later did I learn that the guard was not merely commander of the imperial guard, but also the son of the Duke of Xian: Shen Louyu.

The next time we met, I did not dare speak. I kept my eyes fixed on my toes.

I stepped left. Shen Louyu stepped left as well.

I moved right. So did he.

With a thud, I dropped to my knees. “Please spare this servant, my lord.”

“What are you afraid of?”

Seeing my panic, he gave a quiet laugh. “Could you mend this for me?”

He held out a sachet embroidered with a crane. The bird’s form was graceful, but its once-delicate feathers had been rubbed into a tangled mess.

I pressed my lips together. “If it was a gift from someone dear to you, Lord Shen, you should have cherished it properly instead of trying to repair it afterward.”

Shen Louyu laughed. “You are right. My mother gave it to me. I would rather she did not think I failed to treasure it, so may I trouble you to mend it?”

“Why me?”

Truthfully, my needlework was only passable.

“If I ask someone in my household, Mother will certainly hear of it. You have helped me once already. I imagine one more time will make little difference.”

A glimmer passed through Shen Louyu’s clear eyes, and a hint of a smile touched his lips.

I agreed.

Having a friend among the emperor’s guards could help my mistress and me survive this man-eating palace.