The most diligent workers, the most cherished pets, and the most precious of all creatures. The kingdom feverishly guarded them because of the threads they provided, and I stood in front of them, bearing an ugly secret.
“Take this one.” The Noble Lady placed a small silkworm in my hand. Her voice was raised slightly so I could hear her above the swishing, the sound of the silkworms nibbling the leaves. “This baby silkworm was hatched yesterday. Be gentle. Let it like you. It thrives in quiet, warmth, and goodness.”
I coughed, my face heating up, and the silkworm wriggled, tickling me. I tensed, praying it would not grow stiff and suddenly die in my hand.
“How many silkworms do you have here, my Noble Lady?”
“Do you think I would know?” She scanned the trays. “Thousands. The divine Goddess of Silkworms sees to it that they multiply by thousands.”
“This one is so small.”
“In three weeks, it’ll grow as big as your little finger and spill silk threads. It has a big appetite. Four feedings a day, four feedings a night. After a week, the silkworm baby eats ten times a day.” She handed me a mulberry leaf. “It’s hungry. Feed it.”
I held the leaf in front of the silkworm. It nibbled the stem, devoured the whole leaf, and squirmed, as if asking for more. I was fascinated. What a miraculous creature. Gingerly, I put it back in the tray and peered down at another tray underneath.
Thousands of tiny specks.
Silkworm eggs.
I tensed. They looked like white sesame seeds. But unlike those oval seeds, solid and lackluster, the silkworm eggs were round, supple, and opaque, as if imbued with an invisible force within.
“The eggs will hatch any day now. Everyone is waiting impatiently to see the baby silkworms. This spring is unusually cool. We must keep the fire on during the day and the night.”
“Where is the—” I caught myself. Just then a soft chanting rose in the room.
“Come. It’s time to pray.”
She went to the hall’s entrance, where workers knelt before a statue of a maiden with a hairstyle formed like two wheels. The Silkworm Goddess. Softly, they chanted. Their prayers were a soothing hymn to my ears but a reproachful song to my heart. I hesitated and knelt to join them. I wanted to raise my head and searched for the fire, but I was facing the courtyard with my back to the nursery, and I dared not attract attention by twisting my head back too many times. When the praying finished and the group dispersed, I rose and turned around. There, I saw it. At the end of the shelf, near the corner of the nursery, was a bronze brazier. In fact, there were four of them, one in each corner.
The Noble Lady stood beside me. “Do you like your reward, Mei?”
My heart was beating faster, but I tried to keep calm. “I don’t deserve to see this.”
She smiled and headed out of the nursery.
I followed her to the corridor. “Do you need help here, my Noble Lady?”
“We’re always busy.”
“I can help pick leaves,” I said. “I would like to help.”
“I shall keep you in mind.” She went to sit on a stool in front of a small spindle wheel. Her left hand twisting three yarns, she spun the handle with her right hand.
I stood beside her. Workers came and went around me, their steps agile, their faces content, and the heavy swishing echoed in my ears. I remembered the silkworms’ small mouths, their tiny bodies squirmy with life. The place resembled a tight cocoon with hope and vibrancy. “This is a wonderful place, my Noble Lady.”
She smiled. “It’s because of the silkworms. They are lovely creatures. I often come here and work when I can’t sleep. The sounds of the looms and the silkworms nibbling leaves calm me. They bring me memories of a special lullaby.”
Her wheel spun. Squeak. Squeak. The sound gnawed at my insides like a rodent trying to break through the shell of my feigned kindness. I felt smaller than the silkworms and slighter than the delicate silk threads.
I could not remember how I left the workshops.
16
A week passed. The Noble Lady did not ask me to help pick leaves.
I grew frantic.
When I counted the sheets in the wardrobe chamber, I got the wrong number. When Daisy came, I gave her the robes with mismatching belts, and whenever the Emperor’s other dress maids’ footsteps echoed in the corridor, I grew nervous that they would ask for the Empress’s crowns, discover they had gone missing, and then report it to the Emperor. I knew I was paranoid, but I could not help worrying.
I went to the polo field to look for Pheasant. He was my only comfort, and I hoped to talk to him about the silkworms. But the field was crowded with grooms, horse trainers, horse inspectors, and polo players holding mallets. It seemed they were preparing for an important match, and Pheasant was with some riders, who nodded vigorously as he talked. When he caught a glimpse of me, he held up two fingers.
I would need to wait for two days until we could meet in private. I returned to the wardrobe chamber. Jewel’s maid, the one with freckles, was waiting in the corridor.
“You have until tomorrow,” she said.
“What do you mean?” I swallowed.
“That’s what she wanted me to tell you.”
“Then what?”