The Attendant's Resolve

I’m a palace maid who has served the emperor for over a decade. I watched him transform from a laughing, playful prince into a cold, merciless ruler. Everyone in the palace assumed he would take me into his harem, but deep down, I knew the truth—he never saw me as worthy.

1.

I stared at the shattered porcelain and jade scattered across the floor, my breath catching in my throat. Every item in the Moonlit Palace was staggeringly expensive—even the Empress’s Hall of Eternal Joy couldn’t rival its extravagance. But the Lady Seraphina before me had long shed her former elegance. She was frantically smashing everything in sight. The Emperor stood nearby, watching calmly, neither impatient nor angry. His face betrayed nothing, as if he were simply waiting for her to tire herself out. Quick-witted, I ordered all the attendants to withdraw, closed the doors behind them, and stationed myself outside. Some matters weren’t meant for our ears. But as the Emperor’s personal maid, I naturally knew a little more than others.

Lady Seraphina, born Seraphina Ashford, was the jewel of the Left Chancellor’s household. Since entering the palace, she had been showered with favor, overshadowing even the Empress. Everyone believed she was the Emperor’s cherished darling, and her father the most powerful minister at court. Just as they were basking in this boundless glory, the Emperor ordered the Left Chancellor’s estate raided. A fearless local official had bypassed protocol to report the Chancellor for embezzling disaster relief funds. The Emperor’s investigation revealed that the Chancellor had used the money to secretly train a private army. The Emperor emerged from the hall, and I hurried after him. Before leaving, I glanced back. Lady Seraphina had collapsed to the floor, her hair disheveled, her face deathly pale—all trace of her former pride gone.

Inside the Hall of Heavenly Purity, the Emperor was alone. He slumped into his chair, his eyes filled with desolation. I approached with tea, checking the cup’s warmth to ensure it was exactly to his liking. He took a sip and asked softly, “Tell me… am I too ruthless?” Yes or no? That wasn’t a question I could answer—either response would be wrong. Master Li had taught me to “choose my words and actions carefully.” “Your Majesty’s heart lies with the people, for the sake of the Great Liang dynasty,” I said slowly. He nodded, opening his eyes. The desolation hardened into resolve. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief—I’d answered correctly. “Palace attendants are quick to flatter the powerful and trample the weak. Keep an eye on things these days. Don’t let the Imperial Household Department slight Lady Seraphina.” “Yes, Your Majesty.”

As I left the hall, my steps felt lighter. The dim chamber held only the Emperor now. The Left Chancellor’s crimes were pinned on his eldest son; the Chancellor himself was merely charged with failing to educate his child and overseeing him poorly. This wasn’t the Chancellor sacrificing his son—it was the Emperor’s deliberate design. Out of respect for the Chancellor’s past merits, he allowed him to retire with his reputation intact. More importantly, the Emperor wanted to crush any chance of the Chancellor’s descendants rising again. As for Lady Seraphina, she had lived deep in the palace, ignorant of the affair, and was thus spared. The world marveled at the Emperor’s deep affection for her, lamenting that his true heart was wasted. I scoffed inwardly—hurting someone and then pretending to make amends was merely a way to ease one’s own guilt. Yet the common folk praised the Emperor’s benevolence.

“Not working, just standing there daydreaming?” Master Li’s stern face appeared behind me, and he rapped me hard on the head, snapping me back to reality. “Master Li, I’m on my way.” He sighed. “I know what you’re thinking. Some things aren’t your concern. Haven’t you learned the rules after all these years?” “I know.” “Remember your place. Do your job well.” He raised his hand to strike me again. I dodged quickly. “I understand. I’ll get to work.” Master Li had served in the prince’s estate since the old days. Now the Emperor’s chief eunuch and most trusted confidant, he followed only the Emperor’s orders and showed no favor to anyone else. As for “work,” I only needed to serve the Emperor himself—after all, I was his personal maid.

2.

Within half a day, the Emperor issued his decree. The Left Chancellor’s estate, for harboring private troops and plotting rebellion: the men were to be exiled to the frontier, the women reduced to commoners. In recognition of the Chancellor’s past service, he was allowed to return to his hometown to retire. Mindful of the Emperor’s instructions, I visited the Moonlit Palace, fearing Lady Seraphina might do something rash. She didn’t seem surprised to see me. She remained seated at the table, staring vacantly at the contents of a small box. I glanced inside—the most conspicuous item was a bamboo dragonfly, one the Emperor had made with his own hands back then. “The Emperor has achieved his goal. Why keep me alive?” I couldn’t tell if she was asking me or talking to herself. Seeing her so broken, I couldn’t bring myself to utter the lie, “His Majesty’s feelings for you run deep.” I forced myself to speak. “His Majesty said you will always be the honored Lady Seraphina.” “Ha, Lady Seraphina…” She laughed bitterly. “That miscarriage of mine—he was behind it, wasn’t he?” I said nothing, only felt shame. At the time, Lady Seraphina was three months pregnant when Lady Jia drugged her, causing the loss of the child. In a rage, the Emperor stripped Lady Jia’s brother of his military command and demoted him two ranks. Master Li had taught me that careless words invite disaster—some things must not be said. Lady Seraphina was clever; she understood without being told. She fixed her gaze on me. “My father and brother… did they really keep a private army?” I lowered my eyes, unable to meet hers. The Left Chancellor’s estate had been convicted by the Emperor himself, with irrefutable evidence—there was no room for doubt. “Never mind. Why should I make things hard for you?” She smiled bitterly. “Lady Seraphina, one must look forward to live. From now on, no one in the harem will dare disrespect you. Please take care of yourself.” I couldn’t bear to face her any longer and hurried away.

Perhaps the Left Chancellor had indeed taken bribes, but the disaster relief funds were so vast—they likely didn’t have the appetite for that much. As for hiding a private army… they lacked both the courage and the need for such treason. But without a charge as grave as rebellion, how could the Emperor uproot the entire Chancellor’s faction? To be honest, I still liked Lady Seraphina. Though she was proud and willful, she never took her anger out on the palace staff and always treated me with courtesy. Whenever new consorts entered the palace, they looked down on me as a servant and suspected I’d already climbed into the Emperor’s bed. Many noble ladies made my life difficult, but Lady Seraphina never did. Yet I couldn’t help her—I was just a maid. Master Li said I must always remember my place.

The Emperor remained the Emperor, busy with state affairs every day. I remained a maid, grinding ink for him at his side. A commotion arose outside the hall. A lavishly dressed woman pushed past the guards and burst in. In the court and harem, when one falls, another rises. Lydia, the cherished daughter of the Vice Minister of Revenue, had entered the palace recently and been titled Lady Grace. “Your Majesty must be tired from reviewing memorials. I’ve personally made you some lotus seed soup. Please, try it.” She gestured for her maid to bring forward the food box. The Emperor smiled. “You’ve worked hard, Lydia. Don’t trouble yourself with such tasks in the future.” “As long as Your Majesty enjoys it, I’m happy to do it,” Lady Grace said with a charming laugh. Then she shot a contemptuous glance at me, still grinding ink, and turned to the Emperor. “These servants are clumsy. How can they serve Your Majesty properly? Let me do it instead.” I looked at the Emperor. At his nod, I silently stepped aside. My arms were already sore—good thing someone was eager to take over.

3.

I didn’t dare stand idle. I quickly fetched a silver needle and an extra spoon. Testing the soup with the needle showed no poison. Then I took a spoonful myself—sickeningly sweet. I forced myself to swallow it without flinching. No issues. I presented the soup to the Emperor. Lady Grace’s eyes blazed. “You insolent wench! How dare you taste the soup I made for His Majesty!” I knelt respectfully. “Lady Grace, all food for His Majesty must first be tested for poison by a servant.” “Are you implying I would poison His Majesty?” She raised her hand to strike me. As I expected, the Emperor caught her wrist, stopping her. “Your Majesty…” She looked at him with wounded eyes. But the Emperor’s grip tightened slowly, even as his gentle smile never left his face. He kept his gaze on her until she cried out in pain, then released her. “You’re dismissed. Leave.” “Yes, Your Majesty,” I murmured. I walked slowly toward the door, neither too fast nor too slow. Behind me, I heard his voice—still soft. “The soup is excellent. Your skill is truly remarkable, Lydia.”

Lady Grace’s insults didn’t bother me. As a servant, I’d endured countless slights and scorn over the years—I was used to it. But in this harem, I’d seen the Empress’s dignified courtesy, Lady Seraphina’s proud flair, Lady Virtue’s gentle composure, and other consorts’ cautious humility… yet never had I seen a mere Lady behave so arrogantly. The former Lady Jia, when she first met me, drenched me in tea. The next day, her entire arm was scalded by boiling water. It wasn’t my doing—it was the Emperor’s. He had said he would always remember the bond we shared in the prince’s estate, and promised that as long as I stayed in my place, he would ensure a life without worry and grant me a dignity others didn’t have. So far, he had kept his word. Though I was only eighteen, every servant in the palace, regardless of age or seniority, addressed me respectfully as “Auntie Claire.” Only Master Li ever scolded me. Even the most favored consorts didn’t dare trouble me. Yet I felt he did all this only because he still needed me. He trusted I would never poison him for personal gain. But then again, if he wanted to replace me by force, he could. Still, I realized my life wasn’t so bad.

The New Year was approaching. The Emperor ordered me to deliver gifts to the Grand Princess. Princess Serenity was the Emperor’s full-blooded elder sister, so she received special treatment. Years ago, the Grand Princess and her consort were married by the late Emperor’s decree. Their marriage was unhappy—the consort kept a mistress and humiliated the princess. In a fury, the Emperor imprisoned the consort’s entire family and seized the copper mines under their control. Out of marital affection, the Grand Princess saved the consort from prison, but he hanged himself the next day. People said he died of shame. After that, the Grand Princess lived in seclusion. Even when summoned by the Emperor, she refused to enter the palace. As the New Year approached, every household was festive, but the Grand Princess’s mansion was stark and plain. After delivering the gifts, I sent the other attendants back. The princess was as always—dressed in plain clothes, wearing no jewelry, her hair simply pinned up.

4.

“Take all this back. Tell him I lack nothing here,” the Grand Princess said, barely lifting her eyes as she continued reading. I came every year, so she wasn’t surprised. “Your Highness, this is His Majesty’s heartfelt gesture. He instructed me to deliver these gifts and humbly requests you accept them.” “Then tell him not to send such empty formalities in the future.” I didn’t reply. Instead, I continued, “His Majesty also asked me to inquire if you would visit him in the palace this year.” She finally looked up at me, her voice soft. “Claire, how long have you been by his side?” “Ten years, Your Highness, since I entered the prince’s estate.” Master Li found me on the roadside when I was six, nearly starved, and took me in out of pity. At ten, I began serving the then-Prince Kieran. At sixteen, I followed him into the palace. Now… after the New Year, I would be nineteen. “That long. Back then, when the former Crown Prince tried to kill him, he was gravely wounded. You carried him twenty miles on your back to find a physician.” I said nothing—I wouldn’t dare claim credit. “As long as you don’t hinder him, he won’t mistreat you. But I advise you to leave the palace when you come of age. The palace is no good place.” “Your Highness…” I began, alarmed. She cut me off. “Enough. Come with me.” I followed. She took a box from a cabinet and handed it to me. “Give this to him.” “Yes, Your Highness.” She let out a long sigh. “Tell him this: the past is nothing but a dream. I wish not to speak of it again. Let him forget it too.” I clutched the wooden box nervously, memorizing every word she said. “The palace’s splendor doesn’t suit me. I won’t go again.”

Leaving the princess’s mansion, I gazed at the bustling street, but my heart felt cold. I didn’t know what was in the box, but I knew the Emperor would be pained to see it. Yet… when the Grand Princess asked him to forget the past, did she mean only the consort’s affair, or the years when they depended on each other, supporting one another through hardship? The princess and her consort hadn’t been unhappy, nor had he kept a mistress. Though they didn’t know each other before marriage, both were gentle-natured and loved music. Their bond deepened as they grew to understand each other. Then a ridiculous “crime” shattered that beauty. The consort hanged himself. I didn’t know if he hated the princess utterly, but she would likely never forgive the Emperor. Back at the palace, I relayed the Grand Princess’s words verbatim and handed him the box. He stared at me for a long time, as if wanting to speak but holding back. In the end, he said nothing, merely waved his hand to dismiss me.

I couldn’t recall when our relationship had grown so distant. The Emperor hadn’t always been this cold and taciturn. The Prince Kieran of old was cheerful, restless, even a bit reckless. He used to tease me, saying I should be his concubine. Back then, the Imperial Noble Consort—his mother—had indeed intended for me to be his bedmaid, not even a proper妾. Though Prince Kieran wasn’t monogamous—he married two secondary consorts—he had a principle: he wouldn’t touch a woman who wasn’t his. He joked with me but never meant it. I never imagined that the future emperor would take so many women who weren’t his and make them his own.

5.

I remembered nothing before age six. Master Li said he found me on the roadside while on business, took pity on my near-starvation, and brought me back. Later, seeing I was capable, he made me a little maid in the estate. I had no home, and the prince’s estate paid well—many wanted in but couldn’t. Serving Prince Kieran was quite free. I could be a bit willful; he had a good temper and never got angry. But I knew my place and didn’t overstep. The Grand Princess said I saved his life, but I wouldn’t take credit. When he was gravely injured, I didn’t abandon him—because when we were ambushed, he didn’t abandon me either. Later, perhaps the fratricidal struggle for the throne matured him. Or perhaps power made him disdain playing around with a mere maid. And I watched him transform from kind and generous to cold and ruthless, from benevolent to a killer without blinking. Maybe it was fear, or disgust at his dark methods, but as he ascended to that position, my heart slowly drifted away. One thing remained unchanged: he was the emperor, and I was a maid.

The Empress needed help preparing the New Year’s Eve banquet. She requested my assistance from the Emperor. After all, I knew the palace’s minutiae best. The young prince was still an infant; the Empress needed to recover from childbirth and care for him, leaving her with little energy. The Emperor had entrusted the harem’s affairs to Lady Virtue. But the New Year’s Eve banquet was too significant—it should be handled by the harem’s mistress, and Lady Virtue couldn’t overstep. “Greetings, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Ah, Claire. No need for formalities. Please, sit.” The Empress was as kind as ever. “The banquet preparations are so tedious, and my maids are useless. That’s why I called for you.” I looked at the messy pile of documents and notes on her desk. I’d heard her most capable attendant had left the palace to marry—no wonder she was so flustered. If I ever left the palace, I wondered if the Emperor, so picky and demanding, would find it inconvenient.

I was calculating the banquet’s budget when I heard a baby’s cry. Soon, the nurse carried the young prince over. Now I understood why the usually composed and capable Empress had no energy for the banquet. She held the child, cooed softly, and the little prince beamed. The Empress was a fortunate woman—the Emperor had chosen her carefully to be the mother of the realm. Master Li once said her family were loyal ministers. I thought they must be the people the Emperor trusted most—respected among officials but without military power. With so many consorts in the harem, the Empress had smoothly borne the legitimate eldest son. Wasn’t that the Emperor’s design? He had lavished favor on Lady Seraphina, promoted Lady Virtue, spoiled Lady Grace, yet always gave the Empress dignity and honor. And the Empress was clever—she didn’t vie for favor, power, or attention. When consorts misbehaved, she merely warned them, never bullying them with her authority. Seeming not to compete, she won without fighting.

The Empress smiled and beckoned me. “Claire, you haven’t seen Ethan yet. Come, take a look.” Drawn by the infant’s laughter, I approached. The little prince had big eyes, just like his mother—he’d surely be a handsome child. My gaze was caught by a tiny mole on his chin—the Emperor had one in the same spot. It was a strange feeling. As if possessed, I slowly reached out, wanting to touch that mole. Suddenly, I jolted awake, realizing what I was doing.

6.

Just as I extended my hand, the little prince grasped my finger. His tiny hand could only wrap around my pinky, his small face beaming with a sweet smile. Faced with a child, I was at a loss. I wanted to pull my hand back but didn’t dare move. Stiffly, I said, “The young prince is adorable. He will surely achieve great things.” Such a logically muddled sentence made the Empress laugh. “You’re still a young girl. You’ll understand when you have your own child.” Then, as if remembering something, she sobered. “You must be tired. I’ve prepared some tea and snacks. Go rest.” No wonder the Empress seemed awkward—I felt awkward too. When she first entered the palace and saw me constantly by the Emperor’s side, trusted deeply, she misunderstood our relationship. Perhaps thinking I was pitiful without a title, she suggested to the Emperor that he take me into his harem. I was so terrified I fell to my knees. But the Emperor showed no reaction, merely snorting, “She’s just a maid.” Just a maid. I didn’t see his expression, but the disdain in his voice was impossible to ignore. I wasn’t surprised. The imperial family was born with pride—he had always looked down on me, and I’d always known. But the Empress still thought I was with the Emperor without any status.

Finally, after the first snow, the New Year arrived. On New Year’s Eve, many high-ranking officials would bring their families into the palace. The joyful banquet turned into an arena for power struggles. But those intrigues weren’t my concern, and this year I was even more at leisure. Master Li was old, with old injuries that couldn’t withstand strain. The Emperor specially allowed me to spend the New Year with him. I went to the imperial kitchen to fetch a few of Master Li’s favorite dishes and a plate of dumplings. “Didn’t you bring me a flask of wine?” he asked, watching me set the table. “Master Li, your health isn’t good. You should drink less,” I couldn’t help saying. “Oh? You’re ordering me around now?” He raised his hand to hit my head again. I quickly said, “This is His Majesty’s order!” He stopped. “You dare invoke His Majesty. Fine, fine. I’m old. I won’t hit you anymore.” “Really?” I asked happily. “Eat your meal!” he said helplessly.

As I chewed the delicious food, Master Li sighed from time to time. I knew what he was thinking. The New Year’s Eve meal was getting lonelier. In the old days at the prince’s estate, there were me, Master Li, the young guard Seventeen, the errand boy Cheng, and Gia—a maid like me and my only close friend. We’d gather around a big table, eating dumplings and chatting. If Prince Kieran returned from the palace banquet, he’d even set off fireworks with us. Now Cheng was gone—he died in that struggle for the throne. In a conflict that killed countless, including three princes, who would care about an insignificant servant? After the Emperor ascended, Seventeen took his leave to join the army, heading to the northwestern frontier. He hadn’t returned. The northwest’s winters were far colder than the capital’s. I wondered if he could eat dumplings for the New Year there.

Gia was my age, the most lively and spirited girl in the prince’s estate. She was beautiful and clever. Even the strict Master Li praised her quick wit, unlike me, whom he called dull. After Master Li took me in, I woke up in Gia’s arms. She wiped my face clean and fed me porridge with a smile. But later, I watched her die in my arms. We entered the palace together with the Emperor, but one night, she walked into his bedchamber.

7.

I learned of it two months later. When I arrived, she was coughing up blood in great gushes. The Emperor had given her a cup of poisoned wine. Tears streaming, her eyes full of regret, she said, “Claire, I was wrong. I regret it.” I held her tightly as her warmth slowly faded. “Claire, I was wrong. I want to go home… I want to go home…” “Alright, I’ll take you home.”

That was the first and only time I was so disrespectful to the Emperor. I demanded to know why! “She forgot her place and coveted what she shouldn’t. I gave her a chance and spared her life. But she grew greedy, thinking she could threaten me with a child?” I knelt on the ground, staring at the cold figure on the throne, his merciless words chilling my spine. My clenched hands fell limp. He walked slowly toward me but didn’t crouch as he used to. He looked down at me from above. “Claire, don’t follow her example. Don’t forget your place.” I wiped my tears and answered softly, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

After the New Year’s Eve meal, I helped Master Li to the eaves to watch the fireworks. The distant palaces were filled with song and dance, but he frowned. “Those ministers will inevitably clash. His Majesty will have a headache tonight.” I smiled to comfort him. “His Majesty is the Son of Heaven. How could he be swayed by those officials? Rest assured, Master Li.” Speaking words not meant for others—Master Li saw the Emperor as a son. He had no children of his own and wanted to treat the Emperor as family, but his lowly status kept him from such “rebellious” thoughts. He could only lower himself, treating the Emperor as his master. Once, I too saw the Emperor as family. But I experienced his ruthlessness time and again, witnessed his schemes again and again. I wasn’t worthy of his nobility, and he wasn’t worthy of my true feelings.

The old man couldn’t stay up long. Master Li went to bed early. The Emperor soon dismissed the banquet, letting the ministers return home to keep vigil with their families. I stood under the eaves, watching the distant palace gate. A crowd of lavishly dressed people emerged. First came the Emperor and Empress. Behind the Empress, a maid carried the young prince. Then came Lady Virtue and Lady Seraphina’s close friend, Lady Valeria. Lady Seraphina hadn’t attended the banquet today. In the past, she and Lady Valeria were inseparable. Behind them was Lady Grace—unexpected, given her rank, she shouldn’t have been in that position. But it made sense: she was newly favored, arrogant, and cared little for rules. Then came Lady Soft, Lady Kindness, Lady Obedience, Lady Etiquette… Perhaps because they were far away and I rarely saw them, I soon lost track. So many women—the Emperor surely couldn’t recognize them all. In this world, aside from their closest kin, no one would remember them.

The Empress excused herself to put the young prince to bed. Lady Virtue also respectfully withdrew. Lady Virtue had been bestowed upon Prince Kieran as a secondary consort by the late Emperor, chosen for her virtuous and gentle qualities. I knew her well. The other secondary consort, chosen by Prince Kieran himself, later became Lady Peace. I knew her too, but she was now in the cold palace. Why she was there… that’s another story. As for Lady Valeria, she left the palace directly without a word—she was always like that. As for the Emperor, I guessed he went to Lady Seraphina’s Moonlit Palace. No one kept vigil with me this year. I watched the fireworks for a while, then went to bed.

8.

Half-asleep, I heard a knock at my door. “Auntie Claire…” “Hmm?” I murmured drowsily. “Auntie Claire?” I forced my eyes open. “Who is it?” “It’s me, Little Orchid. His Majesty is drunk and has summoned you to attend him.” At the word “His Majesty,” I jolted awake, but irritation churned in my chest. Annoying! On New Year’s Eve, with all those women in his harem, couldn’t he just sleep anywhere? Why call for me? I grumbled inwardly but dared not voice it—Little Orchid was still outside. The Emperor had surely first visited Lady Seraphina and likely been turned away. The lower-ranking consorts either feared him or were too dramatic—he wouldn’t bother with them. The Empress was focused on the young prince and probably had no time for him; the Emperor found it dull and wouldn’t stay. Lady Virtue… well, even as Prince Kieran, he hadn’t liked her much. She was rigid and proper, always urging him to be diligent. Now she reminded him to govern with care. The late Emperor had chosen a good woman for his son—she thrived in her position solely because of her competence.

Little Orchid led me to the door and slipped away. “Greetings, Your Majesty.” He sat on the steps of the hall, a flask of wine in hand. I silently counted three empty flasks on the floor. Since his ascension, he had been moderate with drink. Tonight, he must have lost his mind. “Rise. Sit with me for a while.” He patted the spot beside him. “Your Majesty, that would be improper.” I didn’t dare get up. “Improper?” He chuckled. “You’ve broken plenty of rules before.” “Your Majesty, this is different.” “Oh? Tell me how.” I took a deep breath, calming myself. Yes, how was it different? It had always been the same—I was a maid, and he had told me to remember my place. “In the past, I was disrespectful. I beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness,” I said stiffly. He didn’t press further. “Before, when I was troubled, Lady Seraphina would talk with me. Now, I don’t even have anyone to speak to.” She had been his most intimate companion, always caring about his mood, never caring about right or wrong—whoever upset him, she’d curse them. But now I wanted to say: You exiled her entire family to a bitter, cold land. On this night of family reunion, did you expect her to pretend nothing happened and still be good to you?

“If that’s the case, why not visit Lady Seraphina?” He took another drink. “I went. Lady Valeria is with her. She doesn’t need me.” I understood—they’d both driven him away. “Stay with me for a while. In this palace, you’re the only one I can turn to.” “Yes, Your Majesty.” Since he ordered, I had to comply. On New Year’s Eve, the Emperor and I kept vigil together. If there was one consort who feared him least, it was Lady Valeria. She had been on the battlefield and didn’t fear death. Now, only out of concern for her family did she maintain a superficial peace with the Emperor. Lady Valeria came from the Lu family of generals, a lineage of martyrs. Her grandfather was the Marquis of Tranquil Peace, a hereditary title. The people praised the Lu army’s bravery—they were the Great Liang dynasty’s protectors. Years ago, when enemies invaded, Lady Valeria’s father led the troops, repelled the invaders, and defended the realm—but he died on the battlefield. Her father and second uncle both fell in that war. Her brother, gravely wounded, held on for two days and nights but couldn’t be saved. The Lu family bought the Great Liang’s stability with their lives. Yet now, their position was exceedingly awkward.

9.

Most of the Lu men had died in battle. Lady Valeria’s grandfather, the old marquis, was advanced in years. Her younger brother was too frail to train in martial arts—though that had spared his life. The Lu army had no one to command, and many court officials coveted it. Both civil and military officials wanted their own kin to try. Seeing her aged grandfather, her grief-stricken mother, and her frail brother, Lady Valeria swallowed her sorrow, buried her father and brothers, and did what no one expected: at the late Emperor’s martial tournament, she defeated a host of noble子弟 and reclaimed the Lu army’s command token. She supported her young brother as the heir, then established her authority by suppressing bandits, silencing the ministers who prattled about propriety. The people praised the Lu family’s warrior daughter. Valeria Lu—she crushed mountain bandits, quelled revolts, repelled barbarians. A woman, yet no man could match her. Folk tales about Valeria Lu still circulated among the people. Then Prince Kieran ascended the throne. A single decree made her Lady Valeria, trapping her within these palace walls. The command token she had fought tooth and nail to protect was lightly taken back. A female general reduced to a palace consort—if not for her family, Lady Valeria might have killed the Emperor long ago.

Sleep was out of the question. I quickly ordered someone to prepare hangover soup. On New Year’s Day, the Emperor had to receive the homage of all officials. Being emperor was hard work, and it was exhausting for us servants too. After the ceremony, the officials had a holiday, and the Emperor could rest. He hadn’t slept all night, so he slept soundly. I lit some calming incense and left. During the New Year, the palace staff still had to work—otherwise, who would serve the masters? I had Little Orchid prepare a bowl of porridge in advance, but I only managed two sips before rushing to the Imperial Household Department. I ordered them to bring the pre-prepared gifts and deliver them to each palace on the Emperor’s behalf. They were just gold, silver, jade, jewelry, and silks. Higher-ranking consorts got more, lower-ranking ones less. I personally delivered to those above the rank of Lady, to show the Emperor’s regard. There were many gifts. I selected several people to carry them, forming a long procession as we went from palace to palace.

The snow on the paths had clearly been swept by the servants, or walking would have been difficult. First, I went to the Empress’s Hall of Eternal Joy. As I entered the main hall, a fragrant aroma hit me. At this hour, all the palaces were having meals. The two sips of porridge I’d had weren’t nearly enough. I swallowed my saliva and bowed respectfully. The Empress, as warm as ever, ordered a reward for me. I quickly thanked her and accepted. “You’ve worked hard coming all this way. Why not stay for a meal?” the Empress said with a smile. “Thank you for your kindness, Your Imperial Majesty, but I still need to pay New Year’s visits to the other ladies,” I declined. I knew she was just being polite. “Then I won’t keep you. Go on with your work.” The nearest was the Hall of Harmonious Virtue. Lady Virtue, true to her name, was practicing calligraphy when I arrived—diligent even on New Year’s. Delivering gifts to her was the easiest. She valued rules and propriety most. Even though we had known each other for years, she never engaged in empty pleasantries. I didn’t need to flatter her; everything was done by the book.

Then came Lady Seraphina’s Moonlit Palace. When I arrived, Lady Valeria was dining with her. It seemed she had stayed overnight. Lady Valeria shot me a cold glance, then turned away, clearly displeased. I knew she had never liked me—she hated the Emperor, and in her eyes, I was his lackey. It stung. What woman hadn’t admired the female general Valeria Lu? Yet fate had brought me to her, and I was unwelcome.

10.

Lady Seraphina spoke first. “You’ve worked hard. Pearl, take the gifts.” I glanced at Lady Valeria and added, “Lady Valeria’s share is also here. Should I deliver it to your palace, or…” Lady Valeria didn’t even look at me. She took a bite of a soft pastry and said unhurriedly to Lady Seraphina, “Keep it, Seraphina. His things make me sick.” Such treasonous words made my heart jolt—there were so many people present. Lady Seraphina looked at her helplessly but finally saved me. “Leave them both here, then.” Lady Valeria’s disrespect toward the Emperor wasn’t new. Once, I overheard her mutter, “That dog emperor.” I would never mention that to the Emperor. A servant must learn to play deaf and dumb. If I ran to tattle, the Emperor wouldn’t punish Lady Valeria—only some fool would suffer.

After visiting all the ladies, my nerves were taut. With the New Year’s gifts delivered, I relaxed and was dizzy with hunger. I stumbled back to my room. On the table was food Little Orchid had left for me… cold. She was busy too, but at least she’d remembered. I was about to heat it up—it was freezing. Then came a knock. I opened the door to find Master Li, carrying a food box. “Haven’t eaten yet, have you?” “Mm, I just finished delivering the New Year’s gifts.” He set the dishes on the table and took away the cold food. “That must have been Little Orchid’s thoughtless doing. Eat quickly—it’s still warm.” “Thank you, Master Li.” I was ravenous, so I sat down and ate heartily. “Slow down. Drink the soup first to warm yourself.” My nose stung. The Empress had the young prince. Lady Seraphina and Lady Valeria were best friends. Lady Virtue’s younger brother served in the Imperial Guard and could visit often. The other servants had received letters and clothes from their families… “