Lost in this maze of winding paths, each hall and chamber with its own name and designated purpose, I recalled the simplicity of my home with a pang. While the grounds of the Pure Light Palace were vast, our needs were undeniably more modest with no courtiers to entertain, the uncomplicated meals which we prepared ourselves, and a wild forest in our backyard.
As we walked, the chief attendant droned on about the rules of etiquette. “You must kneel when you greet His Highness and whenever he issues you a command. At all other times, bow from your waist when he speaks to you. Always address His Highness using his title and never his name. If you have the good fortune to meet Their Celestial Majesties, kneel and press your forehead to the ground until they give you permission to rise. If you walk past someone of higher rank, stop and bow. Speak in a soft tone, dress neatly as befits your station—”
I listened attentively at first, but my attention soon wandered to the ornately carved ceilings and pillars along the corridor. Gilded phoenixes were interspersed with crimson peonies and emerald-green leaves. The walkway cut through a garden which I longed to explore, shaded with magnolia and crabapple trees—
I stopped, realizing that I had lost sight of the chief attendant. Spinning around, I found him standing a short distance behind, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at me with intense displeasure.
I bowed—low. While I was unfamiliar with the nuances of palace hierarchy, the chief attendant evidently believed himself my superior. “Thank you for your guidance,” I intoned as respectfully as I could, all the while wondering how many rules I had missed, and if they were of any importance.
To my relief, he unfolded his arms and continued walking. “Should a noble have assumed this position, they would not reside within the palace, instead arriving each morning to accompany His Highness and returning home each evening. However, given your situation, we needed to make some adjustments.” Here the chief attendant sighed as though he had made some onerous concession. “With these additional benefits in mind, in addition to your duties as Prince Liwei’s learning companion, Her Celestial Majesty has commanded that you serve him as well.”
I looked away to hide my confusion, aware of his watchful gaze on me. Was I a glorified attendant, or a disgraced companion? This was not the prize I had won, and I did not think another would be treated so—certainly not Lady Lianbao. Did the empress hope I would take offense and refuse? I was not as weak-willed as that. Despite the shade she had cast over my achievement, I would not storm out in a fit of pique. After serving Lady Meiling, this was no hardship. Moreover, I preferred to earn my keep instead of feeling indebted to Their Celestial Majesties. Perhaps I should have resented my reduced status more, but for this opportunity I would sweep the floors here every day if I had to.
“I would be honored to serve His Highness,” I said.
The chief attendant pursed his lips. “You are honored indeed. Do not forget that. You are to awaken each morning before His Highness rises and help him to dress. You will prepare his tea and arrange his meals. While at mealtimes you may dine with His Highness, serve him before yourself. Do not eat until he takes the first bite. You will accompany him to his classes and training, where you will study alongside him—placing his learning needs above your own, of course.”
“Of course,” I repeated tightly, biting back the choicer words that sprang to my tongue.
Fortunately, we soon entered the Courtyard of Eternal Tranquility. How serene it was, without the crowd of spectators and anxiety knotting my insides. Jasmine, wisteria, and peach blossom trees bloomed in the garden, their fragrance delicate and sweet. A waterfall rumbled into a pond which thronged with yellow and orange carp. Overlooking it was the pavilion where the selection had been held, except now a round marble table and several stools were arranged within.
“This is your room.” The chief attendant stopped outside the closed doors of a small building. “One more thing, I urge you to maintain an attentive and respectful manner at all times, creating a harmonious environment for His Highness. During his bath—”
I inhaled sharply, the breath hissing between my lips. “I need to help His Highness with his bath?”
He drew himself up, shooting me a censorious look. “When His Highness is taking his bath, use that time to prepare his books and materials for the following day.” He enunciated each word with painstaking clarity, no doubt taking me for a fool.
I mumbled my thanks, grateful when he left. Sliding the doors open, I entered. The room was spacious and well-furnished with a large wooden bed draped with light blue curtains. Silk scroll paintings hung on the walls, depicting scenes of violet-gray mountains and cypress trees, pheasants and peonies. A large window opened to the courtyard and beside it was a desk, stacked with paper, a set of writing brushes, and a porcelain inkstone. A silk lantern was already lit, throwing its radiance against the dwindling light. I perched on the bed in disbelief, pinching the flesh of my arm. It stung; this was real. I wanted to laugh aloud as I fell back onto the soft mattress. The serenity of this place, broken only by the rhythmic flow of water and the wind rustling through the trees, reminded me of home. And after living with those who had found my every word and gesture wanting, it was a relief to be alone once more.