Chapter 27: Shadows Between the Blossoms
The soft murmur of water trickling from the bronze fountain in my chamber's courtyard filled the air as I set my tea aside. The sound should have been soothing, but it felt more like the slow tick of a clock counting down toward something inevitable. Jiu'er stood near the screen door, folding one of my lighter cloaks. Her movements were careful, almost too careful, as if she sensed the tension beneath my stillness.
The faint aroma of sandalwood lingered from the morning incense. Sunlight spilled across the patterned floor tiles in fractured beams, filtering through the carved wooden lattice. Somewhere outside, a gardener clipped stray branches, the rhythmic snip of his shears punctuating the quiet.
I turned the events of the garden over in my mind, examining every tilt of Meiyan's head, every inflection in the Empress Dowager's voice. The Dowager had been receptive, perhaps more than I had expected, but her warmth was not an open door. It was an invitation to prove myself, a subtle testing of worth. Meiyan had known that too, and I had seen it in the slight narrowing of her eyes when the Dowager addressed me instead of her.
"Jiu'er," I said softly, my gaze still on the shifting light patterns. "If you were Meiyan, what would you do tonight?"
Her hands froze over the folded cloak. "Tonight, Princess?"
"Yes. If you sensed someone was encroaching on your place beside the Emperor, how would you respond?"
Jiu'er set the cloak down. "I would not act openly. I would watch you, follow your movements, see who you speak to. And I would make sure the Emperor hears whispers that shape his thoughts before he ever hears your voice."
I smiled faintly. "Exactly. That is what she will do."
The warmth in the chamber seemed to shift. I rose, walking toward the inner balcony. From here, I could see a sliver of the eastern gardens where the plum blossoms had begun to open. The petals caught in the breeze and scattered across the pond's surface like fragments of pale silk.
My fingers tightened on the railing. I would need to move carefully, more carefully than I had in the past. Today's smile had been deliberate. Tomorrow's would have to be sharper.
---
By midday, the palace had changed its rhythm. The bustle of morning duties faded into a quieter hum, as if the corridors themselves were conserving energy for the evening's gatherings. I left my chambers with Jiu'er trailing a respectful distance behind, the soft whisper of her slippers blending with mine.
The corridors here were narrower, lined with hanging scrolls that depicted scenes of past emperors hunting, feasting, or holding court. I passed a maid arranging a lacquer tray with perfumed oils and a basin of warm water. She bowed quickly, her eyes lowered, but I noticed the way they flicked toward me before returning to the floor. Word of my presence in the morning court would have spread by now.
At the Hall of Whispering Pines, the scent of pine resin mixed with ink. Several scribes sat cross-legged at low desks, their brushes moving steadily over rolls of parchment. One of them glanced up as I entered, a young man with a scholar's topknot and ink staining the tips of his fingers.
"Princess Lianhua," he murmured, setting his brush aside and bowing. "Do you require a transcript of this morning's proceedings?"
"Not today," I replied. "But I would like to see the records of the Spring Festival arrangements for the past three years."
He blinked, surprised. "Of course. It may take some time to retrieve them."
"I will wait."
While he went to the storage shelves, I wandered among the desks, glancing over the neat columns of characters. Every petition, every decree, every expenditure passed through these hands before reaching the Emperor. Information flowed like water here, and I intended to cup some in my own hands.
When the young scribe returned with three scrolls, I thanked him and carried them to a quiet corner. As I unrolled the first, the scent of old paper rose, dry and faintly sweet. The meticulous calligraphy detailed lists of performers, flower arrangements, seating orders, and ceremonial scripts. On the surface, it was all harmless, but these gatherings were as much about power as they were about celebration. Who stood where, who poured the Emperor's wine, who presented the opening dance — each detail carried weight.
By the time I finished the last scroll, I had begun to see patterns. Certain families had held the same roles for years, their names woven into the page like threads in a tapestry. To alter even one thread would draw attention.
I rolled the scrolls and returned them, my mind already sifting through possibilities.
---
The sun was lower when I returned to my chambers, streaking the walls with warm gold. Jiu'er had prepared fresh tea, the steam curling into delicate spirals. As I sipped, a knock sounded at the door.
One of the palace eunuchs bowed low as he entered. "Princess, His Majesty requests your presence at the evening meal in the Hall of Blossoming Virtue."
The summons was not unusual, but the timing was. Meiyan would certainly be there.
I changed into a gown of pale ivory with embroidered cranes along the hem, the fabric catching the fading light. Jiu'er arranged my hair into a softer style, letting a few strands frame my face. The effect was deliberate — serene, approachable, but with a touch of distance.
The Hall of Blossoming Virtue lived up to its name. Lanterns shaped like lotus buds hung from the ceiling, casting a gentle glow over the lacquered tables. Low arrangements of orchids and peonies perfumed the air. The Emperor sat at the head of the table, Meiyan to his right, her gown a deep crimson tonight. She looked up as I entered, her smile practiced.
"Princess Lianhua," the Emperor greeted. "Come, sit."
I took the seat opposite Meiyan, bowing slightly. Servants moved in silent efficiency, setting dishes of braised fish, fragrant rice, and tender greens before us. The meal began with polite conversation about the festival preparations.
Meiyan spoke of the dancers she had chosen, the fabrics she had ordered from the southern provinces. Her voice was warm, but her gaze was sharp, measuring my reaction.
"I saw the plum blossoms today," I said lightly. "They will be in full bloom for the festival. Perhaps they could be incorporated into the opening procession."
The Emperor nodded thoughtfully. "A fine idea."
Meiyan's fingers tightened slightly on her chopsticks. "Of course, if the Princess wishes, we can consider it."
The rest of the meal unfolded in the usual pattern, with soft words layered over sharper undercurrents. By the time we rose, I knew one thing for certain.
Meiyan had noticed me this morning.
And she would not forget.