Similar to what we had done in the Yeting Court, we began with a recital. “Obey your parents, for it is from their veins your body is formed; revere your elders, for it is from their blood your name is given; submit to your superiors, for it is from their mouths that your food is provided; vow to your emperor, for it is by his grace that you walk on the ground…”
The words popped out of my mouth like tasteless, uncooked rice, yet I was told to recite them again and again. Finally, we finished, and I was ordered to put on a pair of boat-shaped shoes with heels that measured a hand’s length. Every titled lady must learn the “perfect walk,” the etiquette teacher said. “You must take a step half of your foot length each time. No more, no less. Your upper body must remain at a slight angle, so you will be ready to bow at any moment. When you walk, your skirt shall ruffle to a pleasing rhythm, and your eyes, no matter where your feet lead, must always focus on the ground five paces ahead.”
As I balanced myself on the boatlike shoes, she continued. “Remember, when you smile, you shall never reveal your teeth. Prior to speaking, you always bow, and when you are given permission to behold, you shall always set your gaze upon the other’s shoulder, never at the eyes.”
I recognized Rain, the teacher. She was the girl from Pheasant’s haystacks. Her eyes lingered on me when she caught my gaze. Then she looked away.
I thought of Pheasant and how he had helped me escape. I hoped the Captain had been kind to him and did not punish him. Ever since I had parted with him, I often studied myself in the bronze mirror, and I always made sure my hair was neat before leaving the chamber.
I wished to see Pheasant again and thank him. But it would be difficult to find him in the vast palace.
In the following days, I learned how to play guzheng, a rectangular instrument with eight cords. After the music lesson was my favorite calligraphy class, but I had learned four types of scripts since I was six: seal script, grass script, standard script, and running script. Seal script and standard script required the calligrapher to follow the rules of the square shapes and straight lines. Grass script emphasized free, unrestrained movement, and running script was a compromise between the standard script and grass script. I was best at grass script, for I loved to see the brush run freely on paper.
After those lessons came lectures for reception, rituals, visiting rites, and procession rules, and practices of bearing banners, practices of carrying wine vessels and holding parasols, and then tests that concerned the titles of the ladies and the contents of their monthly allowances. There were math lessons too—mainly counting. I had learned that when I was five.
I asked Teacher Rain when the training would end.
“When you receive an assignment.” She gave me a long look.
“What assignment?”
“What else?” She lifted her triangular face. “You shall empty Most Adored’s chamber pot, if you are fortunate.”
I wished I had not asked her. She obviously resented me, and I hoped, with all my heart, that I would not serve Jewel.
When I had some leisure time, I went to the court’s library, which collected Ban Zhao’s Lessons for Women and rhapsodies from the Warring States period. I was disappointed. I missed the Four Books and Five Classics, Confucius’s Analects, or even Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching. But the book I missed most was Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. I remembered what he said: “If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained, you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”
I had known Jewel. Did I know myself? I thought so. Then I did not need to be afraid.
And since I was right beside the Emperor, I would fend off Jewel’s swords and advance with the master’s shield of wisdom, and very soon, I would win the Emperor’s heart.
? ? ?
Jewel caught me on my way to the classroom one afternoon. “How good it is to see you, Mei. It has been a long time.”
She strutted in a stunning pale blue gown, her white hair adorned with a long, iridescent kingfisher feather that almost reached the top of the willow tree near the trail. Two girls wearing garlands of peonies scattered rose petals on the path for her to tread on, and behind her, a train of servants followed.
Anger rushed to my tongue, but I bit my lips and bowed. “Most Adored.”
“I must say I was surprised by what you did, Mei. How courageous you were to save the Emperor’s life, and now you’re a Talent. Look how far you have come. How is your training going?”
Her voice was gentle, but I knew what kind of woman she was. I would never trust a word of hers again. “As to be expected, Most Adored,” I said. “If you will pardon me, I must take my leave now.”
She walked closer to me, treading on the petals. “Don’t hate me, Mei. Truthfully, you cannot blame me.”
Would she say the same thing if I had betrayed her? I looked away.