Chapter 12: Attendant Liu, Putting on Airs!

Shen Zhiyi sat up straight. That old fellow had finally remembered her?

She stood and examined herself in the bronze mirror. Her complexion was rosy, her eyes bright, her lips naturally red. Her belly—there was nothing to see there; it was still flat. She touched her lower abdomen and silently addressed the sesame-seed-sized thing inside.

*Little one, your father has finally remembered the two of us. When we see him, don’t let your mother down.*

Then she turned to Bitao. “Let’s get dressed.”

Bitao happily went to search the wardrobe. Qingluo came over and asked quietly, “My lady, what would you like to wear to attend His Majesty in the Imperial Garden?”

Zhiyi considered, her eyes falling on a dress made from the lilac satin Honored Consort Rou had given her. It was her favorite: elegant in color, well cut, and softening her appearance. “The lilac one.”

Qingluo nodded and fetched it. Zhiyi stood by the window, watching the sun gradually sink westward. After half a month apart, did the man even remember what she looked like? Never mind. She would remind him.

In the Imperial Garden, the crabapples were in full bloom, branch upon branch piled with pink and white blossoms. Wind sent petals drifting down like pink snow.

Li Xuandu stood on high ground in the Crabapple Garden, hands clasped behind his back. For no particular reason, he suddenly thought of that little Attendant. Shen Zhiyi.

He had seen too many women. The candidates at the selection had knelt in rows, each presenting her best side: dignified, charming, gentle, lively—every kind imaginable. Yet when they stood before him, their eyes were full of calculation. They calculated how to win favor, rank, children, how to gain more from him.

Zhiyi was different. When she looked at him, she wasn’t calculating; she was openly taking his measure, as if looking at something that pleased her. It was a strange feeling, as though she were the one doing the choosing and he, Li Xuandu, were the one selected.

He remembered their night together clearly. Her fingers had trembled as she helped him change, and her ears had turned red, yet she had carefully finished the task, as though carrying out an assignment from a superior, without a single coquettish word. And her eyes had shone like stars in the candlelight. When she looked at him, there had been no fear, only a light he had never seen before and couldn’t quite name.

Only two of this group of newcomers had made him look twice: Shen Zhiyi and Ye Qingyao. Ye Qingyao was mild and tranquil, like a cup of warm water. She neither fought nor competed, and being with her was comfortable.

Zhiyi was different. They hadn’t met in half a month, and Li Xuandu discovered that he actually missed the girl a little. The thought made even him laugh at himself. An emperor missing a little First Attendant—what would that sound like if spoken aloud?

As he stood thinking, his gaze drifted into the distance and suddenly stopped. A figure was approaching along the palace path, her lilac dress conspicuous amid the spring colors. That figure and that walk—who else could it be but Shen Zhiyi?

From his elevated position, he could see her clearly. She didn’t walk like the noblewomen of the palace. There was none of the trained poise they had cultivated from childhood, no deliberately straightened waist, no precisely measured steps. Yet her movement had a quality of its own: light and lively, like a cat stepping on petals, each step naturally unforced.

Before she reached him, the corners of his mouth had already lifted. His mood inexplicably improved, and even the crabapples seemed lovelier than they had a moment ago.

On the garden path, Zhiyi was walking when a pleasant voice sounded behind her. “Sister Shen, what a coincidence.”

She stopped and turned. Two women stood there. One was First Attendant Qian, another of the newcomers, smiling at her in a pale pink jacket with two pearl flowers in her hair. The other was Attendant Liu, wearing a yellow dress. Her expression was considerably less friendly; her mouth turned down as if she had just swallowed a heap of bitter herbs.

Zhiyi understood perfectly. A coincidence? The Imperial Garden was enormous, yet just as she was summoned, these two happened to appear on the path she had to take? The odds were lower than winning the lottery. Most likely, they had arranged this chance meeting.

She showed nothing on her face and greeted them with a smile. “Sister Qian, have you come to admire the flowers?”

Qian stepped forward and affectionately linked her arm through Zhiyi’s, her tone meltingly gentle. “We have. Spring is at its loveliest. Wouldn’t it be a shame not to come out and enjoy it? Are you here for the flowers too, Sister Shen?”

Zhiyi smiled without answering. Instead, she shifted her gaze from Qian to Liu and gave her a knowing look.

Liu stood half a step behind Qian, her reluctance written plainly on her face. With her mouth turned down and eyes rolling upward, everything about her seemed to say, *I don’t want to speak to you.*

Zhiyi suddenly smiled. Her voice was quiet, but every word was clear. “Attendant Liu, you’re putting on quite a show of importance.”

Liu’s face flushed. She opened her mouth, but Qian quickly tugged her sleeve and gave her a look. “Don’t forget what we came for today,” she murmured.

Liu took a deep breath and swallowed her anger. She lowered her head and curtsied reluctantly, forcing the words through clenched teeth. “Greetings, First Attendant Shen.”

Zhiyi smiled at her, her voice impossibly sincere. “I’m very well indeed.”

Liu’s face grew redder, this time with anger. She held her belly and, remembering what First Attendant Wang had said, lowered her voice. “Don’t be smug, First Attendant Shen. Fortunes turn. Sooner or later it’ll be my turn! And then—”

“Attendant Liu.” Qian cut her off at just the right moment. Her smile remained, but her tone had sharpened. She turned back to Zhiyi with her gentle, proper expression restored. “Sister Shen, why don’t we admire the flowers together?”