Chapter 15: The First Attendant Is Put to the Test

Shen Zhiyi knew the Noble Consort meant the moment she had tugged Li Xuandu’s sleeve. She had done it deliberately: first, to test his attitude toward her and make a stronger impression; second, to prevent First Attendant Qian—and especially the openly hostile Attendant Liu—from using her opportunity for themselves.

“I was wrong.” She admitted it readily, without offering an excuse.

The Noble Consort clearly hadn’t expected her to concede so quickly. She paused, then snorted. “It’s good that you know. I’m not trying to make things difficult for you, but the palace has its rules. Now that you’re here, you must obey them.”

She picked up a booklet from the table and handed it to a maid, who passed it to Zhiyi. It was the *Compendium of Inner Palace Etiquette*, a thick volume of at least a hundred pages.

“The Empress Dowager gave me this when I entered the palace. Since your manners are lacking, First Attendant Shen, copy it out carefully. Once you’ve finished, you’ll understand the rules.”

Copy a book of over a hundred pages. Zhiyi looked down at the thick volume and mentally cursed the Noble Consort’s ancestors for eighteen generations. Her face remained obedient. “Yes, Your Ladyship. Thank you for the book. I will copy it carefully and repay your kindness.”

She curtsied and was just about to leave when the Noble Consort stopped her. “As it happens, I have nothing else to do today. You may copy it here.”

Zhiyi stared. “Yes, Your Ladyship.”

There was no help for it. A superior one rank above could crush her, and the Noble Consort was more than one rank above. If she ordered Zhiyi to copy it here, Zhiyi had to obey; she wasn’t even allowed to take it home.

She sat at a low table below the principal seat, the *Compendium of Inner Palace Etiquette* open before her, brush, ink, paper, and inkstone at her side. Her wrist was already aching, but she dared not stop, copying character after character.

The Noble Consort reclined above her, idly waving her round fan. A young maid knelt beside the couch and fed her peeled grapes one at a time from a silver pick. Lily incense burned in the hall, its fragrance so heavy it was almost cloying. Mixed with the sweetness of the grapes, it made one sleepy.

“First Attendant Shen,” the Noble Consort called lazily, “how far have you gotten?”

Without lifting her head, Zhiyi replied, “I’ve just reached the section on ceremonial greetings, Your Ladyship.”

“Only that far?” The Noble Consort laughed softly. “At this rate, I’m afraid you won’t finish before dark.”

Zhiyi said nothing and kept writing.

Honored Consort Jia and Concubine Hui had been about to leave, but turned back at the door. Jia went behind Zhiyi and looked down at her writing, then covered her mouth and laughed.

“Oh, First Attendant Shen, your handwriting is certainly…” She paused deliberately, as if searching for a less hurtful word. “Distinctive.”

Concubine Hui came over to look and gave a blunter assessment. “Those brushstrokes are limp, without any strength. First Attendant Shen, didn’t you practice calligraphy before entering the palace?”

Zhiyi’s brush paused. She glanced up at them, then lowered her eyes. She really hadn’t practiced. The original owner was only a village head’s daughter. Fortunately, her mother was a teacher’s daughter, so she had learned quite a few characters from her. But as a child she had run about everywhere, and her handwriting was nothing to show off. The writing she used now had been learned again since transmigrating. It was crooked and genuinely unattractive.

“I’m slow to learn and write poorly. I hope Your Ladyships will forgive the sight.” Her tone was flat, as if she were speaking of something unrelated to herself.

Hui wanted to say more, but Jia tugged her and gave her a look. Having seen enough, they curtsied with leisurely grace and took their leave of Chengqian Palace.

The hall fell quiet, save for the scratch of Zhiyi’s brush on paper and the faint sound of the Noble Consort occasionally chewing grapes. The Noble Consort shifted into a more comfortable position. The young maid offered another peeled grape; she took it and chewed, juice running from the corner of her mouth. Another maid hurried to wipe it away.

“First Attendant Shen,” she said lazily, “I’m doing this for your own good. Your background isn’t distinguished, and your manners are considerably lacking. If you don’t remedy them early, you’ll embarrass yourself before someone important someday.”

Zhiyi rolled her eyes inwardly, though her face remained obedient. “You’re right, Your Ladyship. I am deeply grateful.”

The Noble Consort gave a satisfied “Mm” and closed her eyes, waving her fan slowly as if about to fall asleep. Zhiyi lowered her head and kept copying. Her wrist ached more and more; ink stained her fingertips and spread across the darkened paper, making her look even more disheveled. She drew a deep breath, suppressed her irritation, and wrote carefully, stroke by stroke.

As she was silently cursing the Noble Consort’s ancestors again, the system’s voice rang in her mind.

【Ding! Target individual, the emperor, detected approaching Chengqian Palace. Estimated arrival in two minutes.】

Her heart skipped a beat, but her expression did not change and her brush did not stop. She knew he was coming, but she couldn’t let him see that she knew. She wanted him to see her at her most genuinely disheveled and pitiable.

She bent over the page and kept copying, moving a little faster as if pressed for time. Ink covered her fingertips, but she didn’t bother wiping it away; she simply gripped the brush with blackened fingers and continued, stroke by stroke. Several stacks of completed pages lay scattered across the table, their ink still wet, the writing crooked. Anyone with eyes could see what she was doing.

When Li Xuandu entered Chengqian Palace, this was the first sight that met him. Zhiyi sat bent over the low table, head lowered, brush in hand, writing one character after another. Her fingertips were covered in ink, and a black smear marked her cuff. A thick stack of at least twenty or thirty pages lay on the table. Her complexion was poor, her lips a little dry; she looked tired and disheveled, yet held her back straight, as though refusing to yield.

He paused.

The Noble Consort reacted before he did. She sat up, tossed her fan aside, and rose to meet him, her face instantly filled with smiles. “Your Majesty, you’ve come?” Her voice was soft and sweet with surprise. “Why didn’t you have someone announce you? I could have welcomed you at the gate.”