Palace maid Shuoning

(Up)

Yihua Palace

The lights in the sleeping quarters were turned off. The lanterns under the eaves swayed gently in the wind, casting Jiang Shuoning's shadow long and short.

She knelt at the palace gate. Her knees struck the cold stone bricks with a dull thud.

The eunuch Fengchun, who was on duty at the gate, glanced at her coldly and said sarcastically:

"Your Majesty, please rest. Do not disturb your sweet dreams. Now you know to admit your sins, but where were you before? You always knew how to flaunt your seductive hands and foxy face."

Jiang Shuoning did not respond.

The night breeze swept through the passageway, causing the hem of her dress to flutter slightly. She kept her head down, motionless, like a wooden stake embedded in a crack in the brickwork.

After a while.

Suddenly, a lamp lit up in the bedchamber, its dim yellow light seeping through the crack in the door and falling on her fingertips.

Then came a casual remark, not loud, but sending a chill down one's spine:

"Has the snow stopped?"

Jiang Shuoning kowtowed, his voice earnest, carrying just the right amount of sadness.

"Your Majesty, the snow has stopped. This servant deserves to die for disturbing Your Majesty's sweet dreams. Please punish me. But this servant was thinking that Your Majesty's health is not very good every winter."

Every night, this servant warms Your Highness's feet... This servant just hopes the snow will stop soon so I can come and serve Your Highness sooner.

At this point, she almost buried her head in the floor tiles: "But I'm still late. Your Majesty, please punish me."

After he finished speaking, the room fell silent instantly.

Jiang Shuoning's heart was pounding.

A moment later, Consort Rong spoke again.

"You're quite thoughtful." He paused for a moment, then said, "Change into clean clothes and come in to serve me."

Jiang Shuoning choked up, "Thank you for your grace, Your Majesty."

Feng Chun was taken aback.

Jiang Shuoning endured the pain in his knees and slowly got up. He twitched his lips, glanced at Feng Chun, and then turned around and went back into the house to change his clothes.

The bedroom was warm and cozy, with the stove burning brightly.

Jiang Shuoning changed into a gray-white palace dress, without a single wrinkle, and her hair was unadorned. Her face was unusually red from being frozen for so long, and the warmth of the room made her feel slightly dizzy.

She bent down and knelt in front of the bed.

"Your Majesty..."

Consort Rong leaned against the bedpost, two strands of her hair draped over the front of her crimson nightgown. The garment was woven with gold thread depicting lotus blossoms, its light flickering as the candlelight shone.

She was chosen from among all the beauties, favored by the emperor, deferenceed to the head of the six palaces, and entrusted with the management of the harem.

In this deep palace, who lives and who dies is up to her.

Suihe carefully tucked the brocade quilts around her and retreated to one side of the bed.

"Your Majesty is magnanimous, remembering our past friendship." Suihe glared at Jiang Shuoning, who was kneeling on the ground, her eyes like knives. "If it were anyone else, your hands would have suffered far more than just minor injuries. You should use your mind for good. If there's a next time, no matter how kind Your Majesty is, I'll be the first to not forgive you."

Jiang Shuoning remained silent, lowering his head even further. Only a fleeting glint of cold light flashed in his eyes.

Consort Rong raised her red lips slightly and glanced down at her hands, which were wrapped in white cloth.

"Does it still hurt?"

Jiang Shuoning's eyes reddened, and she choked out, "Thank you for your kindness, Your Highness. I look at this injury on my hand every day, and I remember Your Highness's teachings every day."

Upon hearing this, Consort Rong looked down at Jiang Shuoning, who was kneeling on the ground, her sharp phoenix eyes devoid of any emotion.

"Watching it every day, recording it every day?" She slowly repeated the words, a slight curve to her lips, a smile as cold as the glint of a razor blade. "Shuoning, what were you thinking when you said that to me?"

Jiang Shuoning tensed up slightly.

Consort Rong didn't wait for her to speak.

"I don't care." She looked away, leaning lazily against the bedpost, her fingers idly fiddling with the gold thread on her cuffs. "What you're thinking is none of my concern. I only care about one thing. If you obey, I'll keep you. If you disobey..."

She paused for a moment, her tone casual.

"If a palace maid is missing, there won't even be a sound."

Jiang Shuoning, her forehead pressed against the cashmere blanket, said in a trembling voice, "This servant will remember."

"Go down. You don't need to be on duty for the next couple of days. Let your hand recover."

Jiang Shuoning kowtowed: "Thank you for your grace, Your Majesty!"

She got up and left, the carved door closing behind her, before straightening her back.

Feng Chun immediately came over, a big smile on her face:

"Sister Shuoning, I have some medicine that Her Majesty gave me last time, but I couldn't bear to use it. I'll take it to you now."

Jiang Shuoning turned to look at him, a cold smile playing on his lips, but he simply nodded and said, "Thank you, Eunuch Fengchun."

In this deep palace, the concubines feared losing favor the most, and the palace maids and eunuchs were equally afraid of losing favor with their masters.

She entered the palace at the age of six and endured twelve years before finally reaching Consort Rong's side. She didn't want to revert to her former self.

She's going to climb higher. One day, anyone who tries to touch her will have to ask themselves if they can handle the consequences.

As for how to climb, she doesn't care about the route.

Suddenly, the image of the deposed Ninth Prince, covered in the shadows, filthy, emaciated, and filled with terror, flashed through her mind.

She was also that mute slave, who was even worse off than a eunuch or a palace maid.

(under)

The eighth day of the twelfth lunar month. The sky was overcast, with leaden-gray clouds pressing down on the palace walls. The snow had stopped, but the wind hadn't.

Jiang Shuo Ning went to the Imperial Household Department to collect winter clothes. As he passed Changmen Palace, his pace unconsciously slowed down.

This place is located in the most remote part of the northern part of the imperial city. Imperial concubines had their own cold palaces, as did eunuchs and palace maids.

Those who committed crimes and were tortured were left here to fend for themselves. As for what crimes they committed, that was not up to them to decide.

The palace maids lived on the east side, and the eunuchs lived on the west side. The youngest was thirteen and the oldest was fifty.

The oldest one is bedridden.

Jiang Shuoning adjusted his sleeves and walked past the narrow doorway.

The back door was ajar, and a person was squatting inside, their back to the outside. They were hunched over, and their worn-out autumn clothes were covered in patches.

"Didn't you eat enough? You only washed a few dishes this morning, were you slacking off?"

A young eunuch standing nearby kicked over the chamber pot, splashing the man with filthy water.

Jiang Shuoning recognized the back. The boy who had huddled in the corner that winter solstice night.

A mute slave.

Sewage trickled down the back of his neck and into his collar. He closed his eyes, then opened them again. He didn't wipe it away.

She didn't leave; she stood in the shadows at the corner of the passageway, about seven or eight steps away, watching.

"Xiao Shunzi, what are you yelling about so early in the morning?"

Old Man Qiao walked out from the front yard. He had a fleshy face, a protruding belly, and his hands were tucked into his sleeves.

Seeing the overturned chamber pot on the ground, murky water trickling out, soaking the snow, and the pungent smell of urine hitting his head, he frowned.

"What are you doing?"

Xiao Shunzi immediately stepped forward: "Father-in-law, the mute servant isn't working properly and even kicked over the chamber pot."

"You still dare to have a temper!"

Eunuch Qiao's face darkened, and he pulled a whip from his sleeve.

The man threw down the brush, covered his head with his hands, and curled up on the ground.

The whip lashed down. Once, twice, three times.

Jiang Shuo Ning counted. She didn't move or make a sound.

Each blow to the back produced a dull thud. The curled-up person bit their lip, veins bulging on their forehead, but remained silent.

She suddenly remembered the winter solstice four years ago. In the woodshed of the imperial mausoleum, the head maid's whip fell, and she was curled up like this, without uttering a sound.

It's not that I don't want to call out, it's that no one will listen even if I do.

Eunuch Qiao put away his whip: "No meals today. Wash the chamber pot and mop the floor clean. Then take the swill to the washroom."

"Useless." Eunuch Qiao shook his sleeves and left.

Xiao Shunzi spat at him and said, "Did you hear that, you piece of trash!" Then he turned and left.

The boy loosened his grip, his back burning with pain, new wounds piled on top of old ones.

He didn't rush to get up; instead, he squatted down, looking down at his shoes.

The shoes were torn, soaking wet, and covered in something indescribable. The stench of urine enveloped him, as if seeping into his very bones.

He reached up and wiped his face with his sleeve. Not to wipe away the dirty water, but to wipe his eyes.

Jiang Shuoning saw those hands. The festering sores were white and cracked from the cold.

She leaned against the wall, the wind and snow blowing in from the backyard, carrying the smell of mold.

A moment later, the boy squatted back down in front of the basin and continued scrubbing the chamber pot.

Jiang Shuoning withdrew his gaze, turned around, and left.

She returned from the Imperial Household Department in the afternoon and passed by that road again.

From afar, I could see him pushing a garbage cart, his steps unsteady, his back hunched, his hair clumped together, and his worn-out autumn clothes stiff with cold. His hands gripped the handle, his festering knuckles exposed.

He pushed the cart toward the washroom, and several palace maids came toward him. He lowered his head even further and pressed it against the wall.

"oops--"

The car crashed into a palace maid, splashing swill onto her palace dress.

The boy's face turned pale. He hurriedly waved his hands, then curled up in the corner, covering his head with his hands.

The palace maid recognized him and was about to lash out.

Chun Chan walked up from behind. She was a palace maid from the Imperial Hospital, with a round face and a sweet smile.

She reached out and took Miaozhu's hand, tilting her head to look at the stain:

"It's not difficult to wash. I have a prescription for cleaning clothes from the Imperial Hospital; I'll send it to my sister later."

Miaozhu was still unwilling: "This material was bestowed upon us by the Empress."

Chun Chan smiled and patted her hand, lowering her voice slightly:

"Sister, think about it. This is Changmen Palace. If we make a scene, and they ask how this filthy thing got to the front, what will we say?"

Miaozhu was taken aback.

Chun Chan released her hand:

"I have a similar one here, let my sister change into it first. If we're late, it will be hard to explain to Consort Liu."

Miaozhu bit her lip and spat out, "What a jinx."

In the end, Chun Chan persuaded and pulled him away.

After the palace maids had gone far away, the huddled boy slowly stood up, his eyes red-rimmed, and continued pushing the cart forward.

Jiang Shuoning stood at the corner, watching the hunched figure walk further and further away.

My fingertips twitched slightly. The injection site still hurt, but the pain wasn't in my hand.

She pulled her collar tighter and turned to walk towards Yihua Palace. Snow fell on her shoulders, accumulating into a thin layer.

It must be repaid.