Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I began managing things with greater precision.

The first step was to strengthen my relationship with the mute eunuch, Old Mo.

I kept acting mad, but in front of him, I would occasionally have a brief moment of clarity.

During one such lucid spell, I slipped him half a piece of flatbread I had secretly saved, still not completely hardened through.

He froze. Something seemed to stir in those dead-water eyes of his.

The thing itself was worthless, but in this forgotten corner, a gift that still carried a trace of warmth stood out more brightly than gold.

Gradually, he began lingering a little longer.

I used a twig to write on the ground and ask him about the outside world.

Sometimes, he would scrape out a few words with the tip of his shoe:

Changchun Palace’s cat had kittens. The Royal Kitchen lost a basket of charcoal. Some minor noble lady offended the Imperial Consort and was punished by kneeling…

The information was scattered, but it was like the corner pieces of a puzzle.

I took out that half stack of yellow paper and began recording it.

There was no clear purpose. I simply wrote things down:

On such-and-such day of such-and-such month, Old Mo said the Eastern Six Palaces had replaced a batch of potted plants.

One day, Consort Zhao looked at my notes and suddenly said,

“The eunuch in charge of flowers and plants for the Eastern Six Palaces is Eunuch Liu. His younger sister works in the Royal Kitchen.

Last month, when the Royal Kitchen lost charcoal, the guard who was punished was Eunuch Liu’s brother-in-law.”

My heart gave a jolt.

Seemingly unrelated incidents had been faintly linked together through the node that was a person.

I looked at Consort Zhao. She avoided my gaze and lowered her head, rubbing the corner of her clothing.

“Back when I was at the Bureau of Medicine… you had to remember the relationships between every department clearly. Otherwise, you wouldn’t even know how you died.”

Attendant Li played her part in another direction.

Her embroidery was excellent. Even on the coarsest hemp cloth, she could stitch lively blades of grass.

I used the fabric I had saved and had Old Mo trade for some of the poorest-quality colored silk threads.

She embroidered simple patterns, sachets, and handkerchiefs.

Then I had Old Mo secretly bring them to low-ranking palace maids or young eunuchs he knew, and the things we received in return were varied:

A small pinch of salt, a few pieces of sugar, and sometimes even a small chunk of dry, tough cured meat.

Salt and sugar were treasures that kept us alive here.

Cured meat was a luxury.

Without realizing it, the three of us had formed an extremely small core.

I was in charge of outside contact and planning. Consort Zhao handled intelligence analysis and records. Attendant Li was responsible for production and bartering.

Cui’er and the four palace matrons became our eyes.

They moved about the courtyard airing out mildewed things. Occasionally, when they were called to help starch and wash old rags, they would overhear bits and pieces from different places.

Who had quarreled with whom, which managing matron was in a foul mood, what rare good thing had occasionally been tucked in among the items sent over.

They came back and repeated what they heard, and I weighed it before writing it down.

The back of my account book grew denser and denser with writing:

“Twenty-third day of the eleventh month. The young eunuch delivering charcoal complained.

Changchun Palace’s charcoal allowance is thirty percent higher than in previous years, yet they still say it is not enough. The chief eunuch was scolded.”

“Eighth day of the twelfth month. Chunxing, a second-rank palace maid in the Imperial Consort’s Palace, spoke privately with a guard at the northwest corner of the imperial garden for about half an incense stick’s time.”

“Fifteenth day of the first month. Old Madam Zhang from the Laundry Bureau mentioned in casual talk that a silk garment Qiuwen, the Imperial Consort’s personal senior maid, sent to be washed had wine stains on it. Qiuwen looked extremely panicked.”

“Second day of the second month. Old Mo gestured that in the plum grove at the southeast corner of the imperial garden, there were satin boot prints from an unfamiliar man. They appeared for three days in a row. The depth of the footprints varied, as if he had been waiting for someone or observing something.”

The information remained fragmented, but when I placed it side by side, a hazy thread began to emerge:

Changchun Palace was indulging in luxury beyond its permitted rank. There seemed to be something hidden in the Imperial Consort’s Palace. The boot prints in the plum grove might be connected to the outer court…

These fragments were of no use for the moment, but I knew they carried weight.

In the palace, secrets were power. They were also bargaining chips.