Chapter 3

Chapter 3

That night, I lay awake turning the hairpin over in my hand, a dull ache throbbing in my chest.

I knew I liked him.

I liked him very, very much.

At the hour of the boar, two frog calls sounded beyond my window. My heart stirred. I quietly rose and slipped into the disused side hall where old furnishings were stored.

Sure enough, Mingru was waiting there with a steaming crock of noodles in her arms.

“Seventh Princess, eat while it’s hot! I stole all sorts of good things from the Fifth Prince’s private kitchen and simmered them all night to make this broth. I even pinched some Hetao flour meant for the Third Prince and rolled the noodles myself. Hurry and taste it!”

I needed no urging. I accepted the crock, sat on the floor of the side hall, and ate my birthday noodles one mouthful at a time. They were piping hot, and the broth was unbelievably savory. Mingru had not exaggerated: it was full of treasures-ham, dried abalone, shiitake mushrooms, matsutake…

Even an unfavored prince had access to so many fine things. I felt a little jealous.

Then I quickly shook my head. Had I been born a prince, I would probably have followed Mother to the grave long ago. I would never have been permitted to cling to life until now.

Sunlight never reached the abandoned hall. Mingru seemed cold and hugged her arms. I scooped up a spoonful of broth and held it to her lips.

“Drink. It will warm you.”

Without ceremony, she leaned into my hand and slurped it down.

Moonlight spilled through a hole in the broken window. Beneath its pale glow, one palace maid and one princess huddled around a single crock of noodle soup. One mouthful for her, one for me-we shared every last noodle and drop of broth.

My stomach was full, my body warm, and somehow my heart no longer hurt quite so badly.

Mingru picked up the empty crock. “Happy birthday, Seventh Princess.”

I said nothing. I merely rested my head on her shoulder.

It was the only blessing anyone had given me that day.

“Seventh Princess, Consort Shu is watching over you. You will find happiness. You deserve it.”

Happiness?

Was such a thing mine to possess?

I did not know. I remembered only the last word my mother had left me.

Live.

Every year on my birthday, Mingru came secretly to that deserted hall and brought me longevity noodles.

Mingru was a palace maid in my Fifth Brother’s residence. I had first met her three years earlier.

Someone had apparently set her up to offend Yong’an.

A precious legitimate princess could hardly tolerate a servant bumping into her. Yong’an immediately ordered Mingru sent to the Office of Punishment.

Ordinarily, I watched such things from the sidelines. Keeping myself alive already took all the ability I possessed. How could I possibly save anyone else?

But that day, one glance stirred my pity.

Palace maids always harbored some small desire to distinguish themselves. Even the lowest drudge would labor over a border embroidered on her uniform or tuck an unusual flower into her hair, anything to seem a little special.

This maid, however, wore the standard uniform issued by the Palace Service Bureau. The sole ornament in her hair was an ordinary silver pin of the most common palace design. She wore nothing else.

Yet when I looked closely, I saw blunt, heavy bangs cut down to her brows. Poria powder had been mixed into her face powder to make her complexion coarse and sallow, and lip color had been painted slightly beyond her natural mouth so her lips looked thick and ugly.

I almost laughed.

I knew those disguising tricks intimately. They were the same ones I used.

Perhaps I felt kinship with someone who hid herself in the same way. Or perhaps I was still human enough to possess a shred of compassion.

“Imperial Sister, if you send her to the Office of Punishment, someone will report it to Her Majesty, and she will inevitably summon you to ask a few questions.” The virtuous Empress had to cultivate a virtuous princess. If Yong’an publicly sent a maid to be tortured merely for bumping into her, the Empress would have to intervene.

“You promised to choose a painting with your tutor today as a gift for Young Master Fu. Why let a mere maid delay you? Leave her to me. I will discipline her on your behalf.”

With that, I stepped forward and slapped Mingru.

“Hmph. You do have a point. Stay here and teach her a proper lesson!”

I would vent her anger, strike the servant for her, and earn a reputation for cruelty in her place. Why would she refuse?

I positioned myself between the kneeling maid and the others. I pressed the back of my left hand against Mingru’s right cheek, then repeatedly slapped my own hand with my right. I did it more than a dozen times and stopped only when Yong’an’s party had gone far away.

“This servant thanks the Seventh Princess for her great mercy!”

What kind of princess was I? I mocked myself silently.

“Go. Be more careful from now on.”

The maid kowtowed and departed at once.

She did not gush with gratitude, burst into tears, or offer her name. She was perceptive enough to know that leaving quickly was the wisest thing she could do.

Several days later, I went as usual to the plum grove in the western gardens to choose white blossoms for the Empress’s vases. The Empress claimed the maids chose unattractive branches; even in the dead of winter, I had to select and cut every spray myself.

There, I met the same maid again.

She wore the same clothes, but this time she was not kneeling. She merely curtsied, back straight and smile gentle.

For some reason, I thought her figure resembled the trees around us-just as upright, just as proud and solitary.

She offered me a rouge box made from the coarse porcelain most commonly found in the palace.

“This servant is Mingru. I serve the Fifth Prince.”

Perhaps afraid I would misunderstand her intentions, she introduced herself first.

“I noticed chilblains on Your Highness’s hands that day. This is a salve I made myself from a family recipe. The ingredients are ordinary and cost almost nothing. Would Your Highness like to try it?”

Then she added, “Please don’t worry, Princess. The salve has no color or scent. No one will discover that you use it.”

I accepted the box, opened it on the spot, and rubbed some over my hand. The itching stopped immediately, and my skin felt much softer.

For the first time in the depths of that palace, I felt a trace of warmth.

Everyone except my own father understood how little standing I possessed. I had nothing worth plotting for and no influence worth flattering.

The Fifth Prince’s residence stood just beyond the western gardens, along the route I took whenever I went to cut plum blossoms.

After that, Mingru and I often met in the grove. She always wore the same disguise, but I could tell she led a reasonably contented life.

For one thing, she always carried a warm smile.

For another, she could always smuggle some delicacy from the Fifth Prince’s kitchens. I would hide away the excellent pastries the Empress occasionally bestowed on me for appearance’s sake.

Like two little mice, we would find a secluded plum tree and gnaw hard, cold pastries in the winter wind. When we finished, we would look at each other and laugh.

She told me what the world beyond the palace was like, a world I had never seen. I fantasized with her that if Mother were still the emperor’s favorite, Mingru and I would swagger sideways through the palace and fear no one.

Then I would cling to her and cry. Afterward, I let her use her ugly yellow powder to conceal my swollen eyes.

I did not treat her as a servant, and she did not treat me as a princess.

We were simply two girls struggling through misery together.

Two years ago, Mingru became the senior maid at Fifth Brother’s side.

Fifth Brother was also a motherless child. His mother must have been beautiful, for she had given birth to a son who was every inch a gentleman-modest, gracious, and mild as polished jade.

We were blood siblings, but we met only when paying respects at the Empress’s palace or during family banquets. We had exchanged nothing beyond formal courtesies: “Greetings, Imperial Brother.” “I hope Imperial Sister is well.”

Over the past two years, he had occasionally looked at me a little longer and given me a slight nod. Sometimes, when we paid our respects, he unobtrusively diverted a difficulty the Empress or Yong’an had prepared for me.

I did not know whether that small measure of care came from affection between siblings or from the bond between him and his servant Mingru.