It would be appreciated if readers could enjoy this without thinking too deeply about job titles and regulations.
The Crown Prince — upon learning that he had passed away, at supper, was when the black sashes were handed out.
They were to be worn for seven days as a mark of mourning.
At that time, meat was entirely absent from the meals — already scarce as it was — and some made unhappy faces about it.
The low-ranking women ate twice a day: mixed grains and soup, with occasionally a vegetable dish served as a treat. For a scrawny girl like Maomao the portions were more than sufficient, but most others would probably find them lacking.
Even when lumped together as servant girls, there was quite a variety among them.
Some were from farming families, others were town girls, and though few in number, there were also daughters of officials. If one's parent held a government post, the treatment should have been somewhat better, but even so, when it came to performing menial labor, it came down to the individual's own aptitude. Someone who couldn't even read or write could never be made a consort with her own chambers. Being a consort was, after all, a profession.
(So in the end, it meant nothing?)
Maomao knew the cause of the Crown Prince's illness.
Consort Rifa and her attendants had been using lavish amounts of pure white powder — a luxury beyond the reach of commoners.
That was The pleasure quarters.
The high-class courtesans there used it too. Some earned a farmer's lifetime of silver in a single night— courtesans some did; others bought it for themselves, gifts while some received it as such.
Applied thick and white from face to neck, it ate away at the courtesans' bodies, corroding them, and drove several to death.
Because even when the old man told them to stop, they kept on using it.
Maomao had watched by the old man's side as many courtesans wasted away and perished from exhaustion.
They had weighed their lives against their beauty, and in the end lost both.
So she broke off a short branch, scrawled a simple message, and left it at the residences of the two consorts. She didn't really expect them to believe a warning penned by a lowly woman who couldn't even procure paper or a brush, though.
When the mourning period ended and black sashes were no longer seen anywhere, Gyokuyou she heard rumors about the consort. Having lost the Crown Prince, the grief-stricken Emperor seemed to be doting on the surviving princess.
Having likewise lost her child, Rifa she heard no talk of him visiting the consort.
(How convenient.)
Maomao drank down the soup with its few scraps of fish, cleared away the dishes, and headed to the workplace.
"A summons?"
Maomao, carrying a laundry basket, a eunuch stopped her in her tracks.
She was told to come to the room of the Chief Palace Attendant in the center.
The Palace Attendants were one of the three major divisions of the inner palace, comprising the female officials of lower rank. The other two were the chamber-bearing consorts under the Inner Bureau, and the eunuchs under the Department of Internal Affairs.
(What could this be about?)
The eunuch was also addressing the other maids around her. It seemed she wasn't the only one being summoned.
They must be short-staffed.
Maomao set her basket down in front of the room and followed after the eunuch.
The Chief Palace Attendant's wing stood near the main gate of the four gates connecting the inner palace to the outside. Whenever the Emperor visited the inner palace, he always passed through this gate.
Even though she had been summoned, it was not exactly a comfortable place to be. In short, it was the sort of place where rank was everything.
Compared to the neighboring building of the Chief of the Inner Bureau, it was somewhat less grand, but still more lavish than the buildings of the mid-ranking consorts. Each section of railing was adorned with carvings, and vivid dragons coiled around the vermillion pillars.
Being ushered along, she entered the room, only to find it surprisingly sparse—there was nothing but a single large desk. About ten maids besides Maomao had gathered inside, their expressions a mixture of anxiety, some vague expectation, and a touch of excitement.
"Right, that's all. You lot may go back now."
(Huh?)
For some reason, the group had been divided rather abruptly. Only Maomao entered the room, while the remaining maids went back looking puzzled.
Though the room still seemed rather spacious for a limited few.
As Maomao tilted her head and looked around, she noticed all the women officials' gazes converging in one direction.
In the corner of the room sat a woman making no effort to stand out, attended by a eunuch, while some distance away sat an older woman. Maomao recalled that the middle-aged woman was the Chief Palace Attendant, but who was this person who seemed even more imposing?
(Hm?)
For a woman, she had remarkably broad shoulders and wore plain clothes. Her hair was gathered up with a cloth band, with the rest hanging down.
(Could it be a man?)
She gazed at the women officials with a gentle smile like that of a celestial maiden. The Chief Palace Attendant had turned red.
Ah, so that's why they were all blushing.
This must be the devastatingly beautiful eunuch from the rumors, Maomao thought.
Hair like silk threads, a flowing silhouette, narrow eyes, and willow-leaf brows—surely even a celestial maiden from a painted scroll could not rival such beauty.
(What a waste.)
That was what she thought, without so much as a blush. Since he had lost what was most precious, he was incapable of fathering children. Just imagine what stunning offspring a child of his would produce.
Still, with beauty so unearthly, even the Emperor— could be ensnared, she mused.
How brazen, these thoughts. As she was entertaining such presumptuous notions, the man rose with a fluid movement.
He approached the desk, picked up a brush, and with elegant strokes began to write.
With a radiant, honeyed smile, the man showed her the writing.
Maomao froze.
'You there, the freckled girl—you are to stay behind.' In summary, that was what the note said.
He must have noticed Maomao's movements.
A broad smile spread across his face.
The man tucked the note away and clapped his palms twice.
'That's all for today. Return to your rooms.' The maids left looking puzzled and somewhat reluctant, still unaware of what the note had meant.
Maomao noticed that every maid leaving the room was small in stature with conspicuously freckled features. The fact that none of them had reacted to the writing must have meant they couldn't read it.
The note had not been about Maomao.
As she moved to leave with the other maids, a firm palm clamped down on her shoulder.
She turned around cautiously, and there it was — a celestial maiden's smile, so dazzling it made her squint.
"That won't do. You're staying behind."
Needless to say, there was no room for refusal.