"That's strange — word is you can't read."
"Yes, of low birth is what I am. There must be some mistake."
(Who taught you?)
— that was one thing she would never say, not even if it meant her mouth being torn apart.
She was brimming with the intent to play dumb.
Whether a maid could read or not affected how she was treated. A literate maid had her uses, and an illiterate one had hers, but feigning ignorance made it easier to navigate the world.
The beautiful eunuch called himself Jinshi — that was the name he gave.
His smile was so graceful it wouldn't even harm a fly, yet she sensed something squirming underneath. Otherwise, he could never have Maomao backed into such a corner.
Without a word, Jinshi told her to follow.
If she refused, this disposable serving girl whose neck could be lightly cut off would have no choice but to comply. She turned over in her mind what would happen next and how best to deal with it.
It was not as though she couldn't guess why Jinshi was taking her away — what puzzled her was how he had found out.
About the letter she had sent to the consort.
In Jinshi's deliberately casual hand, there was a scrap of cloth. It presumably had something written on it in sloppy, crude handwriting.
She had kept her ability to read and write a secret from everyone, and her expertise with poisons from her work as an apothecary was also kept hidden. Needless to say, there was no risk of being identified by her handwriting.
She had been careful to look around before leaving it behind, but perhaps someone had seen her after all.
He had narrowed his sights on the freckled little maidservant.
First, he must have gathered everyone who could write and collected their handwriting. No matter how much you scramble your characters, your habits still show through.
If none of them matched, then next he would gather all the people who couldn't write.
The method of determining who could and couldn't read was the same as before.
(Just how paranoid is he? And doesn't he have way too much free time?)
She was still grumbling to herself when they arrived at their destination.
Sure enough, Gyokuyou — it was the palace where the consort resided.
When Jinshi knocked on the door, a clear, refined voice replied briefly, "Enter."
Inside, a beautiful woman with red hair was lovingly cradling a curly-haired infant.
The baby's cheeks were rosy, with fair skin light in pigmentation, just like the mother's.
The child was the picture of health, and adorable little snores drifted from its half-open mouth.
"I have brought the one you requested."
"Thank you for your trouble."
This was not the same loose, casual tone as before.
He was speaking with proper decorum, fully aware of his station.
Consort Gyokuyou smiled a warm smile — different from the one Jinshi wore — and bowed her head to Maomao.
Maomao stared in surprise, eyes wide.
"You are far too kind. I am not worthy of such a gesture."
She chose her words carefully, so as not to appear rude.
"No. My gratitude goes beyond that. You are the savior of my little one."
"You must be mistaken about something. Surely you have the wrong person?"
Cold sweat trickled down her back.
No matter how politely she phrased it, it was still a refusal.
She didn't want to lose her head, but she didn't want to get entangled either. She had no desire to involve herself with those in power.
Noticing that Gyokuyou's expression had grown slightly troubled, Jinshi held out a fluttering piece of cloth.
"Did you know this is the same fabric used for the maids' work uniforms?"
"Come to think of it, it does look similar."
She would feign ignorance regardless.
Even knowing it was pointless.
"Yes, it's what the maids attached to the Bureau of Clothing wear."
The court was organized into six bureaus. The Bureau of Clothing oversaw garments, and Maomao—whose primary duty was laundry—belonged to it.
The undyed skirt was the same color as the cloth Jinshi held.
A careful look at the inside of the skirt, in the parts hidden within the pleats, would reveal peculiar stitching.
In other words, the evidence was right there on the spot.
She doubted Jinshi would dare pull anything disrespectful in front of Gyokuyou, but she couldn't rule it out either.
There was no choice but to steel herself.
"What would you have me do?"
The two exchanged glances, interpreting her words as agreement.
Both wore gentle smiles so warm they made her eyes squeeze shut.
As the baby's peaceful breathing filled the room, Maomao let out a tiny sigh that seemed as though it might fade away.
The next day, Maomao had to pack her nearly nonexistent belongings.
Xiaolan and her roommates all looked on with envy.
They kept pressing her about how it had happened.
All Maomao could do was offer a dry smile and deflect.
Maomao had become the emperor's favored consort's lady-in-waiting.
Well, it was what you might call a promotion.