Chapter 3
More than a dozen girls entered the estate with me.
We were all eight or nine years old.
As I had guessed, we were made to sign lifetime contracts and assigned to the courtyard of Xie Yao, the household’s young mistress.
A noble family like the Xies would not ordinarily buy servants at random. Children born to household retainers were considered safer.
But Xie Yao was extravagantly spoiled. She was not only the only daughter of Lord Xie and Princess Zhaohua, but also the emperor’s niece. As a child, she had played on the dragon throne and been denied nothing. She grew willful, cruel, and arrogant.
Several months earlier, her little red mare had escaped its enclosure.
It ran wild through the estate, trampling everything in its path, until its hooves crushed an elderly gatekeeper. The woman’s granddaughter knelt and begged for two taels to buy medicine.
Her fingers wrinkled Xie Yao’s favorite skirt.
For that alone, every servant in the outer court who had failed to stop the horse was punished. Some were flogged; the rest were sold.
No one dared criticize her.
When Princess Zhaohua heard, she praised her daughter.
“If we lack servants, we can buy more. You did nothing wrong, Yao’er. You are a precious young lady. How could the lives of such wretches compare to one of your dresses?”
Now fourteen of us stood in two neat rows after a month of instruction, waiting to meet our mistress. I raised my eyes slightly and saw Xie Yao arrive in a crowd of attendants.
She wore a pale yellow silk dress and enough jeweled kingfisher ornaments to cover her head. A single hairpin could have bought an entire farm outside the capital. The fan in her hand was a Western tribute piece hung with pearl tassels, and a phoenix-shaped ornament adorned her brow. She carried herself with more grandeur than an imperial princess.
Servants set down a wicker chair for her.
After the steward finished his lecture, she lazily extended one jade-white finger and named each maid in turn.
By unwritten custom in Zhao, a servant named by her master was branded as that master’s possession.
“Summer, Little Tile, Swallow…”
When she reached the last few of us, Xie Yao faltered. She had perfectly inherited her father’s coldness, as well as her mother’s cruelty, foolishness, and distaste for books.
I nudged the girl in front of me—the bully called Swallow who had used her greater strength to terrorize us and pour water over every bed.
She sprawled forward, her face white with fear, and repeatedly begged forgiveness. As the steward dragged her away, Xie Yao’s gaze brushed the hem of her robe, embroidered with the Four Gentlemen of winter.
“I know what to call the rest of you.”
Xie Yao rose and walked off. She was shallow-minded, easily seized by whatever happened to cross her eyes. I stood second among the final four girls, so she named me Lanhua, for the orchid.
Later, I was assigned to sweep the outer courtyard.
I did not miss the flash of pity on the old housekeeper’s face when she called my name. Everyone on the estate knew Princess Zhaohua hated orchids above all things. They assumed I would never rise.
They were right.
For three years, I saw my masters only once.
One autumn, Xie Zheng and the princess quarreled. He coaxed her all the way to their daughter’s courtyard. Neither noticed me sweeping fallen leaves with my head bowed.
“Why are you jealous again? Yao’er is nearly grown. Others will laugh. You know there is only you in my heart. Zhaohua is the bright moon; drawing near her was the greatest fortune of my life.”
Xie Zheng was thirty-five.
Time had treated him kindly. Years of luxury had only made him more distinguished, like a fine tea deepening with age. No wonder the princess grew possessive. She was two years younger, yet wrinkles had already rooted at the corners of her eyes.
Despite the passing years, she remained a girl where he was concerned. She still believed his honeyed words and was soon appeased. Xie Yao came running then and sweetly greeted her parents.
Hidden beneath an archway, I watched the happy family leave.
From behind, they looked perfectly harmonious.
They would not remain so for long.
I lowered my head, caught the drifting fragrance of zhiyin blossoms, and smiled.
For four years, I swept Xie Yao’s outer court.
From the garden to the second gate was thirteen thousand seven hundred steps. Leaves fell, then fell again. I swept the route four times each day without complaint. I remained quiet and obedient, accepting every filthy or difficult task pushed onto me.
That won me the goodwill of many servants. More than one spoke kindly on my behalf.
When I was thirteen, just after midsummer, Xie Yao chased butterflies through the rear garden. It held countless rare flowers gathered from every corner of the kingdom at Princess Zhaohua’s expense. Yet even that riot of color became dull after years of viewing.
Then a butterfly settled on a clump of tiny wild jasmine. The flowers were simple and intensely fragrant, unlike anything Xie Yao had seen. I knew her well. A spoiled girl like her prized novelty above all else.
Sure enough, the inquiry eventually reached me.
Panic filled my face as I repeatedly knocked my head against the ground.
“This servant did not plant them. A seed must have been mixed in when the gardeners raised the spring seedlings. It sprouted later, and no one removed it, so this servant gave it a little water…”
Xie Yao waved me silent.
She was in an excellent mood.
She asked who I was, then graciously promoted me into her inner courtyard.
At first, I merely tended flowers and was not allowed close to her.
Later, I filled an empty place in her retinue during a visit to the princess. Zhaohua immediately noticed the unfamiliar face among her daughter’s attendants. She skimmed the foam from her tea.
“Where did this maid come from? I haven’t seen her with Yao’er before. Raise your head. What is your name?”
“Lanhua.”
I knew how rage swept through her in that instant.
She smashed her cup to the floor.
“That name is vile. Change it. Everyone with ‘orchid’ in her name deserves to die. Pick another at once!”
The ferocity in her face frightened Xie Yao. No one had ever dared mention the filth of her parents’ youth before this pampered young lady.
I knelt among the shards. They cut into my calves, and blood spread beneath my skirt. I kept my head bowed, but my voice remained calm.
“The young mistress bestowed this name after something she saw and treasured. If it must be changed, I beg the young mistress to grant me another.”
Silence pressed down like the air before a storm.
At that moment, the captain of the guards—who owed me a favor—brought Xie Zheng into the room exactly as arranged.
He glanced over the wreckage and frowned faintly.
“It is only a name. If our daughter likes it, let the girl keep it.”
Then he crossed to the princess and lowered his voice.
I read the shape of his lips.
“Enough, Zhaohua. Do you want Yao’er asking why?”
That matter ended with me kneeling on broken porcelain for two hours.
That night, Xie Yao summoned me to her chamber.
My legs were numb and I could barely stand, yet every staggering step radiated fierce devotion.
“Lanhua,” she asked, “when Mother ordered you to change your name, why did you insist on mine instead of obeying her?”
“I belong to the young mistress.”
I said, “The housekeeper taught me to be loyal to my master. In all things, I must place the young mistress first.”
Xie Yao laughed softly, something shifting in her eyes.
She gave me a box of costly ointment and promoted me to personal service.
Princess Zhaohua had no other children and was now too old to bear another safely. Her only daughter was indulged beyond measure, yet also subjected to a nearly deranged degree of control—from where she could go to what her servants wore.
Gradually, Xie Yao’s feelings for her mother became complicated.
She adored Zhaohua, but she was suffocating. At a rebellious age, she sometimes stared at the sky and dreamed of the bustling common world beyond the estate walls. I was the first person who made her feel she had someone of her own.
It was not enough.
Over the next year, I raised myself into the position of her closest confidante.
I always anticipated what she wanted and did what she dared not. I smuggled banned books from the marketplace. When she disliked a tutor, I found a way to drive him out. She admired my loyalty more every day and sometimes complained about her mother’s oppression.
“Mother is too much. I like pink, but today she forced me to wear purple. She even chose every hairpin. I have no say at all.”
I silently massaged her legs.
“Her Highness only loves you.”
I knew those words would reach Zhaohua.
The princess had tried several times to kill me. She framed me for theft, attempted to sell me to a brothel, threw me into the punishment hall, withheld my wages, and denied me food.
But I was remarkably difficult to kill. I always survived with one breath left.
Once, Xie Zheng happened upon her while she tortured me. Blood had splashed across Zhaohua’s face, making her look like a demon. Lord Xie refused to share her bed for days. After that, she stopped torturing me. When she realized I never displayed my injuries before others, she even condescended to instruct me.
“Very well. Yao’er is older now. It would be foolish to damage our bond over you. If she wants a little pet for amusement, her mother will allow it. In any case, I do not believe you can escape my palm.”
The princess did not know how I secretly encouraged her precious daughter to skip lessons and fed her arrogance.
Nor did she know what I would do next.
It was the year of Xie Yao’s coming-of-age ceremony.
She drank a little wine and stabbed two maids with a needle to vent her temper.
By the time I finished helping her wash and undress, it was late. Moonlight shone over the world, as bright as it had been when I died and when my parents died.
I returned to my room.
From a crack in the wall, I took out specially made stationery that carried a faint perfume.
I lowered my eyes and wrote:
“I have long yearned for you. I toss and turn, unable to sleep… Before I depart, meet me at Yuanye Pavilion at dusk, and let me confess everything in my heart.”
I wrote two letters.
One in a man’s voice, one in a woman’s.
No one in the Xie household knew I could write, much less that I could imitate two entirely different hands.
When the ink dried, I blew gently over the pages and put them away.
My lips curved into a smile.