Chapter 11: Aren't You Afraid His Majesty Will Forget You?

Half a month passed, neither a long time nor a short one. All eight newly selected women had now attended the emperor for the first time. Li Xuandu showed no preference in the matter, making his way through them at an unhurried pace.

At their first audience, some were so nervous they could barely speak. Others pretended to be calm but trembled too hard to hold a cup of tea. Still others were poised and confident, neither servile nor arrogant. The eyes and ears in each palace took note, and by the next morning’s greetings, their performances had become the most popular topic in Kunning Palace.

Two events drew the most attention during those two weeks. First, Shen Zhiyi had been promoted to First Attendant the day after she attended the emperor, the first newcomer to rise in rank. People talked about it for days, until another event drew their eyes away from her.

That event concerned First Attendant Ye. Although her rank was among the higher ones in this group, she had attracted little notice. She was pretty but mild in temperament. During the selection she had neither stood out nor made a mistake, like a cup of lukewarm water, easily forgotten once one turned away.

After her first night with the emperor, however, he chose her plaque on two consecutive days. That was exceptionally rare for Li Xuandu. More surprising still, on the third day after she first attended him, he ordered her promoted to Noble Lady.

Noble Lady was not a particularly high rank, but neither was it low. Many women in the harem spent years in the palace, growing gray as they waited, only to remain at the two lowest ranks of First Attendant and Attendant. For some, Noble Lady was a threshold they would never cross. Now everyone’s eyes were on Noble Lady Ye.

In the west wing of Changchun Palace, Zhiyi was eating a bowl of red-date and snow-fungus soup when she heard the news. Bitao recounted the promotion with such animation that she seemed more excited than if she had been promoted herself.

Zhiyi slowly ate a spoonful of fungus and nodded. “Good for her.”

Bitao’s eyes widened. “My lady, aren’t you worried?”

“About what?”

“Noble Lady Ye has risen to Noble Lady! She’s a rank above you now!”

Zhiyi set down her bowl and wiped her mouth. Bitao looked so distressed on her behalf that she couldn’t help smiling. “Tell me, Bitao, can you worry your way into a promotion?”

Bitao had no answer. Qingluo spoke from the side. “My lady is right. You can’t hurry matters of rank, nor can you force them. If it’s meant for you, it won’t get away. If it isn’t, fighting won’t bring it.”

Bitao pouted. “I just think it’s unfair to our lady…”

Zhiyi lightly patted her head. “That’s enough. What’s unfair? First Attendant or Noble Lady, we all serve His Majesty. Instead of worrying about that for me, keep an eye on the crabapples in the courtyard. Watering them would be more useful.”

Bitao ducked her head under the pat but couldn’t resist asking, “Yes, my lady. But aren’t you afraid His Majesty will forget you?”

Was she afraid? In the harem, being forgotten by the emperor meant being forgotten by everyone. Without favor there was no standing; without standing, no protection; and without protection, one could keep nothing safe.

But Zhiyi understood something better than Bitao did. Li Xuandu was not a man who would let romantic attachments govern him. He treated the harem much as he treated the court: weighing interests, maintaining checks and balances, spreading favor so that no one became too powerful and, as far as possible, no one was left too destitute. If he could promote First Attendant Ye to Noble Lady today, he could promote someone else tomorrow. This wasn’t special favor; it was balance.

So she was in no hurry. She had plenty of time to wait. Besides, she carried a powerful trump card. Other people might be afraid, but she wasn’t.

In a side hall of Chuxiu Palace, Attendant Liu sat by the window with a book open before her. She hadn’t turned a page in half a shichen. Staring at the osmanthus tree outside, she looked as though she had swallowed a fly.

“Why can those two be promoted when I can’t?”

She had been saying it all afternoon. Across from her, First Attendant Wang listened to the same complaint over and over, smiling, neither impatient nor agitated. She sipped her tea and set down the cup.

“His Majesty’s thoughts are hard to read. But if your belly does its part, what would ranks like First Attendant and Noble Lady matter?”

Liu’s gloomy face brightened. She put down her book and leaned forward, lowering her voice. “You’re right, Sister. Perhaps I’ll be lucky and conceive after one night!”

Wang lifted her cup again. Behind its rim, her lips curved with an unreadable expression. “Then I hope all your wishes come true.”

Liu didn’t notice the smile. Already lost in pleasant imaginings, she touched her belly as if an imperial son were there, her eyes shining. Wang lowered her cup and looked at her delighted face, mockery flashing through her eyes like a current beneath water.

The emperor had been on the throne ten years. From the empress and the Noble Consort down to the lowest Attendant, not one woman in the palace had ever been pregnant. Ten years, and not one. Yet Liu thought she would conceive? After a single night? How extraordinarily foolish.

If they hadn’t lived in the same palace and seen each other every day, Wang wouldn’t have wanted to speak to her at all. Spend too long dealing with a mind like that, and it might be contagious. She rose and found an excuse to leave.

Over those two weeks, the maids and eunuchs of Changchun Palace’s west wing gradually recovered from their initial excitement. Just as their mistress had said, the emperor was wise and spread his favor; he never favored one woman alone. Even the Noble Consort, who had grown up alongside him, had received only five consecutive days of attention when she entered the palace before he moved on. What grounds did the servants of a mere First Attendant have to behave arrogantly?

Bitao was the first to rein herself in, diligently working when she should work and keeping quiet when she should keep quiet. The young eunuchs and rough-work maids became more restrained too. They treated the outer-hall servants politely, neither humble nor arrogant, offending no one and flattering no one.

Honored Consort Rou took a second look at Zhiyi because of it. A village head’s daughter, only half a month in the palace, had managed to train her servants so well. That was no small thing.

Zhiyi herself, meanwhile, was quite at leisure. She reclined on a couch with half a pastry in her hand. The child in her belly was nearly a month along, and she felt nothing: no nausea, no upset stomach, no sleepiness. She felt well enough to eat an ox.

*System,* she asked silently, *I’ve been pregnant almost a month and still have no symptoms. Could I be one of those lucky people with a body made for pregnancy?*

The system was silent for two seconds.

【There is no need for impatience, host. The embryo is only the size of a sesame seed. Morning sickness will not begin so early.】

Zhiyi stared. So much for getting her hopes up. She finished the pastry in a huff and was just about to close her eyes for a nap when hurried footsteps sounded outside.

The curtain lifted, and Bitao poked her head in, cheeks flushed and eyes bright as stars. “My lady! His Majesty has summoned you to attend him in the Imperial Garden!”