Once warmed by the sun, now sunken in frost.
When my couplet was read aloud, there were a few nods and appreciative murmurs. Mine was far from the best, but I was just grateful to not have disgraced myself. After the empress selected Lady Lianbao’s as the winner, I clapped along with the audience.
As the painting was carried away, several attendants entered, bearing large trays piled with food for the afternoon meal. I lost count of the staggering number of dishes as the tables heaved under platters of prawns simmered in golden butter, roasted pork, chicken braised with herbs, delicate soups, and vegetables artfully shaped into flowers. It smelled delicious yet I could only manage a few bites before my stomach churned in protest. I laid my chopsticks down, looking up to see Lady Lianbao pushing the food around her plate with as little enthusiasm. There was an incessant flow of chatter around us, but all I could think of was what would come after—the last challenge which only we would participate in. When our eyes met, I shot her a tentative smile, which she returned after a moment’s hesitation.
After the plates and remaining food had been whisked away, the clang of the gong rang out once more. The chief attendant announced loudly, “For the final challenge, Lady Lianbao and Attendant Xingyin will each select an instrument to perform a song of their choice. The winner will be chosen by Her Celestial Majesty and His Highness.”
My heart leapt. Finally, something I possessed some skill in! The desks had been cleared and a vast assortment of instruments laid out. Lady Lianbao bowed to the dais, before selecting the qin and taking her seat. She played a beautiful melody—a classic about the leaves in the mortal world changing their color from jade to russet—her fingers plucking the strings masterfully. While I admired her ability, my confidence dipped with each perfect note.
It was my turn. As everyone swung toward me, my palms broke out in a sweat. I wiped them against my skirt, trying to calm myself. I had only ever performed in front of my mother and Ping’er. A most amiable audience, a most forgiving one. With wooden steps, I made my way toward the center of the pavilion. My eyes darted over the zithers and lutes, glazing over the chime-bells and drums . . . but there was no flute. I paused before the qin, the only one familiar to me here. However, it was not my best instrument and Lady Lianbao had played it far better than I ever could. To select it would be to choose defeat, and a lifetime in the Golden Lotus Mansion would not bring me one step closer to my dream.
Grateful that the long skirt hid my shaking legs, I bowed to the dais. “Your Celestial Majesty, Your Highness. There is no flute here. May I play my own instrument?”
The empress pursed her lips. “The rules cannot be broken.” Her tone was sharp with disapproval.
I kept my face lowered so she would not see my stifled fear and resentment. “Your Celestial Majesty, the rules only stated that I had to select an instrument to perform. It did not specify from where.”
Someone gasped. I glanced up to see the chief attendant take a hasty step away.
The empress glowered as she tossed her head back, the jade beads around her neck clicking furiously. “You insolent girl, how dare you argue with me?”
“Honorable Mother, it’s our mistake that no flute was provided,” Prince Liwei interjected. “I don’t see why it matters if she plays her own. Are not our instruments of equal standard to any other?”
The empress leaned forward as she addressed me in a chilling tone, “Your flute will be inspected. Should we discover any enchantment upon it, you will be whipped until you cannot walk for attempting to cheat.”
“There will be no whipping today,” Prince Liwei said tightly. One of his hands was clenched in his lap.
She did not reply, gesturing toward someone behind her. “Minister Wu, conduct the inspection.”
An immortal with pale brown eyes stepped out from the crowd, the amber in his hat gleaming like drops of gold. It was him; the minister who had discovered the shift in the moon’s energy, who had alerted the empress and brought her to my home. Perhaps he was merely a vigilant courtier, but my gut clenched at the sight of him. In my shock at seeing the empress, in the tumult of the day—I had not realized he was here, too.
I could feel the empress’s gaze upon me, everyone was staring at me as I fumbled with the ties of my pouch. If they believed me nervous, I was glad for it—better that than the simmering fury which threatened to erupt. How dare she accuse me of cheating? Perhaps, in her mind, someone like me would have no scruples. Perhaps, I thought viciously, she only suspected me of what she was capable of herself.