A month after my appointment in the wardrobe chamber, I received my first allowance as a Talent, which contained ten jin of rice and two boxes of facial tincture and rouge. I did not use the beauty products. When I received the second allowance, I saved them as well. Once I saved enough of them, I would trade them to the other Talents for a silver ingot and send it to Mother. She needed money. I did not know if Qing offered her food or warm clothes. With the silver I sent, she would at least have one good meal. She would also understand that I had not forgotten her, and she would be greatly comforted. And even if Qing stole the money, it would be all right. At least he would know I was doing well in the palace. With his greedy nature, he would hope I could do something good for him in the future, and then at least he would treat Mother more kindly.
I also befriended Daisy, the Emperor’s dress maid, although she was hard to talk to at first. People often joked that she had a rock where her brain was supposed to be, but Daisy failed to comprehend even that. Words seemed to reach her in delayed echoes, and she always responded a few moments slower than normal.
I made excuses to visit her in the Emperor’s bedchamber, which was located far away in Ganlu Hall. Every time I went there, I hoped he would notice me, but he was always surrounded by an array of physicians, guards, and servants. They ordered me to stay one hundred paces away from the Emperor.
His recovery had been slow, even with the help of the great physician, Sun Simiao. The physician had famously declined the invitation of the Sui Court but now accepted the task of overseeing the Emperor’s health. He suggested citragandha, a wonder drug that contained tamarisk manna, pine resin, and licorice, and had the Emperor take it with grape wine at noon and two hours before bedtime. He also prescribed drugs such as mica and cinnabar, which were said to be two important ingredients of Taoist’s elixir, with careful doses administered by a team of physicians and food provosts.
The Duke, the man who suspected me of assisting the killer in the Altar House, was always around, sniffing, frowning, inspecting the medicines before they were delivered to the Emperor. He was the Emperor’s most trusted man, clearly, and I thought it best to stay out of his sight.
The rumor of Heaven’s withdrawal from the Emperor died off slowly as he recovered. In time, I believed, the appearance of the comet would become a distant memory to everyone.
Day and night, the thick fragrances of the Emperor’s medicinal herbs floated in the Inner Court, sometimes even drowning out the scent of plum flowers. But I breathed it in. As long as the Emperor was in good health, I would see him soon.
? ? ?
Despite my preoccupation with the Emperor, I thought of Pheasant more and more. His face came into my mind when I swept the chamber or folded tunics. I knew I should stop thinking of him, and that Father would not have approved. But the more I tried, the harder it was to rid my mind of Pheasant. I could still feel his finger on my lips. What if I met him once more? Just once?
There were watchful eyes everywhere though. A few times, I caught two maids peering at me through the wardrobe chamber. I had never seen them before, and when I went to confront them, they pretended they were only passing by. I wondered if they had been sent by Jewel. Who else would be spying on me?
One time, Jewel visited before midday mealtime. “I’m helping the Emperor pick up his outfit,” she said, strolling between the rows of chests. But she did not seem to be interested in the Emperor’s garments. Instead, her hands flipped through the piles of the late Empress’s belongings, her old clothes and her jewelry. Jewel did not take anything in the end and left without a word.
I was wary. After she left, I moved those chests to a far corner.
In time, the opportunity to see Pheasant came. I made certain no one was around and slipped out of the court. I did not know where to find him, so I went to the polo field again. He was there with Taizi, and when he saw me, he gestured to the mulberry groves, where I waited until he could join me. Then we went to a beautiful wooded area behind a vast lake and a long corridor, named A-Thousand-Step Corridor. I admired the intricate lattice works on the sideboards near the bridge, while he whistled and told me about his horses, and then we climbed atop the garden rocks and watched the falcons fly by. Afterward, we raced each other down the hill. The time dribbled like honey flowing from a secret comb, lazily but full of flavor.
One day when I went to see him again, he was in the mulberry grove waiting for me. Together, we went to the back of the Inner Court again and arrived at a garden with high walls. Thick bushes and twisty vines had overgrown the front gate, and a pair of heavy, rusty locks barred the arched entrance.
Light as a lark, Pheasant flipped over the wall with ease. A moment later, his voice wafted from the other side of the garden. “Are you coming?”
I looked around to make sure we were alone and climbed onto a rock. My feet slipped, and my skirt caught my foot. I freed myself, grabbed the bricks on the top of the wall, and heaved. After a few failed attempts, I landed on the other side of the garden.
“Are you all right?” Pheasant looked at me from the grass-covered path. Behind him was a pavilion with a broken roof and moss-covered pillars.