A girl dressed in a white tunic came to the chamber. She said she was the Emperor’s dress maid and her name was Daisy. Playing with her long braids, she said simply, “Need polo suit.”
“Polo, polo.” I wished she could be more helpful, but she seemed rather distracted, her face blank, and when I asked her again, she only stared. I paced between the chests, remembering seeing a tunic with a picture of men riding. After half an hour, I finally found it at the bottom of the third container near the fourth wardrobe.
Over the next few days, I carefully sorted out the accessories, organized compartments for shoes and girdles, folded the garments, paired them with underclothes and belts, and labeled the chests according to the seasons. When it was sunny, I spread out the winter garments and fur coats and capes in the courtyard to rid them of dust, moth eggs, and tiny insects. Before the fur and fabric could get warm, I swiftly took them inside and stored them to prevent the color from fading.
Every day, I rose on the fourth crowing of roosters and arrived at the wardrobe chamber before dawn broke. By the time I returned to my bedchamber, the last ray of the sun had faded. After twenty-five days, I stretched my aching back and scanned the neat assortments with satisfaction. There it was. Orderly fashion.
Plum, along with four Beauties, came to the chamber several weeks later. Taking care of the garments became easier with their help, and Plum seemed to know the answer to every question I asked her.
“Those previous maids before us,” she answered, smoothing some stubborn wrinkles of a picnic tunic, “they were hanged because they dressed the Emperor in mourning regalia on the fifteenth day of the moon.”
I stopped sweeping the floor, shocked that such a small error would cost people’s lives. “We must not make mistakes like that,” I said. “I wish we could know what kind of clothing the Emperor would wear the next day, then we could prepare them ahead of time.”
She shook her head. “It’s not possible.”
Only the imperial Taoist astrologer, who consulted the Emperor’s personal almanac daily, kept the ruler’s schedule. A sixth-degree Talent like myself certainly would not have the privilege of knowing it. Neither was I, nor any lady, allowed to keep a calendar, which required the monitoring of Heaven and thus was considered sacred. Again, only the Emperor’s astrologer was allowed to create and keep a calendar, and if anyone else possessed one without permission, it was a severe crime, punishable by death.
AD 641
the Fifteenth Year of Emperor Taizong’s Reign of Peaceful Prospect
WINTER
12
I rather liked my routine. Each morning, I prepared the Emperor’s clothing for the day, dusted the chamber, and changed the mothballs in the chests. At noon, I counted the garments and linen sheets the laundry ladies delivered and finished dusting the chamber. After that, I strolled through the courtyard and went to walk around a small garden at the back. My bedchamber was located on the other side of the wardrobe chamber, and it required half an hour’s walking from one side to the other. Usually, when I returned to my bedchamber, it was already dark, time for bed.
One day, while waiting for the laundry women to deliver clean linens, I made a mortuary tablet for Father out of a piece of wood I found near the lake. I had always wanted to honor him with my silent thoughts, as I was unable to visit his grave in Wenshui each year on the Day of Qingming. It had been three years since he’d died. He must have learned of my new title in the other world, and I wished to tell him I would restore my family’s fortune and perhaps even make his dream for my destiny come true.
I put the tablet at the bottom of a chest and covered it with my clothes.
I thought of Mother. How I missed her. It had been more than two years since I’d left her. I prayed she stayed healthy. I wished I could tell her how close I was to the Emperor, and soon, very soon, I would meet him and tell him about my family’s situation.