Palace maid Shuoning

(Up)

Night falls in the backyard of Changmen Palace.

Zhou Zhengyin lay on the bed, feeling alternating chills and fever. The damp mattress wrapped around his emaciated body, but he couldn't warm up no matter what he did.

The door creaked open.

A figure stood in the doorway, then walked in. The old man in the same room, Eunuch Xin, rolled over, squinted at him, and mumbled as if in a dream:

"Oh dear... I'm getting old, my pee just won't hold up..."

He groped his way out of bed, putting one shoe on backwards, and staggered toward the door, closing it behind him.

Zhou Zhengyin lifted his heavy eyelids, his vision blurry. A person stood inside the room; it was Du Ruoxiang who first rushed towards him.

Jiang Shuoning lit the remaining candle. A warm glow spread in the darkness.

She wore a dark purple cloak, the hood covering most of her face, and her cold eyes looked at him on the bed.

Zhou Zhengyin was startled by what he saw. He immediately struggled to get off the bed, staggered to her, and stopped three steps away.

As the fragrance of the flute wafted over him, a moment of clarity swept through his muddled mind.

Jiang Shuoning glanced at his festering hands, took out two medicine bottles from his sleeve, and handed them over.

His Adam's apple bobbed slightly as he reached out his hand with trepidation.

"Kneel down and receive it."

The hands froze in mid-air.

He looked up at her. Her eyes were like an icy lake in winter, devoid of any warmth.

Suddenly, Granny Yu's voice emerged from the depths of the earth: "A man's knees are worth their weight in gold."

gold?

He looked down at his tattered clothes, the stench of urine seeping into his bones, which he couldn't wash off no matter how hard he washed; his fingers were so rotten that the bone was exposed.

Now that he's almost dying from illness and suffering, does he still care about the saying "A man's knees are worth gold"?

Two lines of tears silently slid down her cheeks.

His knee slammed into the blue brick with a dull thud.

Jiang Shuo Ning let go, and the medicine bottle fell into his calloused palm.

"The purple bottle is for internal use; you've taken it."

He hesitated for a moment, then put the blue medicine bottle on the ground, poured out a black pill, and put it in his mouth.

The bitter taste exploded, and my stomach churned violently. I vomited.

"Keep eating."

Zhou Zhengyin's hand trembled as he poured out another pill, obediently stuffed it into his mouth, and forced it down with his neck stiff. His Adam's apple bobbed heavily as the pill got stuck in his throat, and a bitter taste rose from his chest.

My stomach is churning again.

He gritted his teeth and held it in, his cheeks aching from straining, but he managed not to vomit.

"Sprinkle the blue powder on the wound." Jiang Shuoning's voice remained indifferent.

He nodded, but couldn't help but secretly look at her.

In the candlelight, her face was pale, clean, and expressionless, like a porcelain doll.

Jiang Shuoning also looked down at him.

In those moist eyes, there was fear, unease, and apprehension.

There's something else that's hard to explain, something that makes your heart soften.

That's the look in someone's eyes who hasn't learned to hate after being bullied for a long time.

She looked away.

"I can't change the rules of this palace, but I can decide whether you stay within my rules."

She turned and left. The door was pushed open, and a cold wind rushed in. The purple cloak disappeared into the night.

The door wasn't closed properly. A gust of wind slipped in through the crack, causing the flickering candlelight to sway.

It wasn't destroyed.

He knelt on the spot and didn't move for a long time.

The fragrance of the herb still lingered on the tip of my nose.

He didn't quite understand what she meant by "her rules."

He couldn't explain what it was. He just felt as if something had gently touched that empty space in his chest.

He gripped the bottle of medicine tighter, his palm aching from the pressure, but he didn't let go.

After leaving Changmen Palace, Jiang Shuoning did not rush back to Yihua Palace.

She took a detour.

The night wind blew in from all sides. She needed a secluded place to think things through for tonight.

She gave Zhou Zhengyin the medicine. He knelt down, accepted it, ate it, and didn't vomit.

Every step was within her expectations.

But what she didn't expect was that the moment he knelt down, she felt a stirring in her heart.

It was very light, like the wind brushing across the surface of water. She immediately composed herself, her expression unchanged.

She didn't want to name that feeling.

In the deep palace, any softness is first killed by oneself. She entered the palace at the age of six and it took her twelve years to completely rid herself of this weakness.

But that moment did indeed happen.

Jiang Shuoning closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The cold air rushed into his lungs, cutting through them like a knife.

She opened her eyes and continued walking. Her steps were neither fast nor slow, each step firm and measured.

She hadn't forgotten what she was supposed to do.

Bet on it, take a gamble, and see if this piece of scrap metal can be sharpened. But when you place your bet, you don't have all the chips in your hand.

There's something else too.

It was very small and light, like a flickering flame on a dying candle. The wind didn't extinguish it.

But Jiang Shuoning told himself—just leave it lit, don't get too close.

(under)

The following morning, a rare ray of warm sunshine pierced through the smoggy sky.

In the courtyard of Yihua Palace, eunuchs were clearing snow, and several palace maids were moving potted plants from indoors to the corridor to bask in the sun.

Jiang Shuoning was pruning the red plum blossoms with scissors. Qing'er leaned closer and whispered:

"Sister Shuoning, have you heard? Yesterday, Miaozhu, who serves Consort Liu, was splashed with swill on the palace road."

Jiang Shuoning trimmed a stray branch, his hands still moving, and said calmly, "I've heard about it."

Qing'er sighed, "It was that mute servant from Changmen Palace who bumped into it while pushing the cart." She suddenly lowered her voice, "Sister, do you know who that mute servant is?"

Jiang Shuoning paused for a moment with the scissors in his hand, looked up at her, and said in a voice that was neither too loud nor too soft: "Qing'er, don't pry into things in the palace."

Qing'er shrank back, but being young, she couldn't hide her feelings and muttered, "I just feel really sorry for them..."

"What's there to pity?" Suihe's voice came from behind.

The two turned around, and Suihe walked over from under the corridor with her hands folded over her lower abdomen, her gaze sweeping over them indifferently.

Jiang Shuoning and Qing'er called out in unison, "Sister Suihe."

Suihe hummed in agreement, walked to the red plum tree, and casually fiddled with the branches, as if checking the work.

She glanced at Qing'er: "Who did you just say was pitiful?"

Qing'er's face turned pale, and she stammered, "This servant... this servant meant... that mute servant in Changmen Palace..."

"A mute slave?" Suihe raised an eyebrow, a hint of disdain in her tone. "What's so pitiful about someone who scrubs chamber pots?"

Qing'er lowered her head and dared not utter a sound.

Jiang Shuoning smiled, picked up the scissors and continued trimming, his tone as casual as if he were chatting with someone.

"Sister Suihe is right. But it's strange, with so many people in Nagato Palace, why is he the only one being singled out for discussion?"

Suihe paused in her fiddling with the branches, glancing sideways at her: "What do you mean?"

Jiang Shuoning trimmed a withered branch without raising her head: "What I mean is, how come everyone knows who a chamber pot cleaner is? In the palace, the more you try to hide something, the faster it spreads."

Suihe didn't reply, but her expression changed.

Jiang Shuoning seemed to suddenly remember something, smiled, and said in a more casual tone, "Oh, right, sister, the other day I was idly flipping through a sketchbook, and there was a story written in it."

"What story?" Suihe asked casually.

"It is said that there was a wealthy family whose master disliked a young master and raised him in a villa from a young age. Later, a servant came back and said that the young master looked exactly like the master when he was young."

Jiang Shuoning plucked a withered leaf, smiled, and said, "Isn't it strange? The more similar something is, the less people like it. On the contrary, those that don't resemble it are always hanging around."

Suihe's gaze lingered on her face for a moment.

Jiang Shuoning continued cutting flowers, her tone nonchalant, "This servant is just flipping through things when I have nothing else to do; these things shouldn't be taken seriously."

Qing'er then looked up, her face innocent: "Does the Ninth Prince resemble the Emperor?"

Suihe subconsciously replied, "It's just like..."

She paused halfway through her sentence.

Jiang Shuoning stopped scissors in his hand.

The courtyard suddenly fell silent for a moment.

"What are you all doing standing here?"

Rongfei's voice came from behind.

Everyone turned and bowed in unison. Jiang Shuoning and Qing'er bowed together: "Your Majesty."

Consort Rong, wearing a fox-colored cloak, stood at the entrance of the main hall, her phoenix eyes sweeping sharply across the courtyard before finally landing on Suihe.

"Suihe, come in."

The sound wasn't loud, but everyone could tell something was wrong.

Suihe's expression changed slightly. She lowered her head and replied "Yes," then quickly walked into the main hall.