The Moon in the Palace (The Empress of Bright Moon Duology)(5)
I leaned back. I would see her again, and when I did, I would make sure she would be safe, happy, and have no fear or worries. I wiped away my tears. Inside, the carriage was dark. The Escort with a patch of purple birthmark covering half of his face, known as the Captain, had closed the window.
The ride seemed to go on forever. We coursed through Qing’s ward, where dogs barked and hens clucked. Then we entered the avenue and approached the clamorous outer walls of the Western Market, where people haggled and peddlers called, “Noodles, noodles! One copper a bowl. Fresh, handmade noodles!” Then we arrived at the quiet alleys, where some loud Taoist hymns drifted in the air. I did not know what they meant, nor was I interested. Taoism was the official religion in our kingdom, which the Emperor claimed was founded by his ancestor Lao Tzu. But I had not seen a single Taoist abbey in Wenshui; in the capital, they were everywhere.
The two Escorts’ voices came to me through the cracks of the carriage. I listened intently. I wished to know what they were talking about, but I could not hear them clearly above the rumbling of the wheels. I wanted to ask if they had picked up the other fourteen Selects the Emperor had summoned. Or should I say something memorable to them so they would have a good impression of me? I would like them to remember me. It would be useful to have friends in the palace.
My bottom slid on the red cushion as the carriage tilted backward. We were ascending a bridge. I grabbed the window frame to steady myself. The carriage slowed and then raced down. I balanced myself again. More horses trotted outside. It sounded as if we were approaching the boulevard near the Heavenly Street. Soon I would enter the palace’s gates. My hands grew sweaty.
Think of Father, I reminded myself. Think of his dream and how he raised you. I would not disappoint him, and when I won the Emperor’s heart, I would make my father proud, I would restore all the fortune my family had lost, and I would be able to take good care of Mother.
I took a deep breath, and the carriage stopped. We must be at the front gate where the stone animals stood. The Captain announced my arrival. Many footfalls rose at once. A man answered, and the gates clanked open. I leaned forward, ready to disembark.
But the carriage continued to roll, and a wave of voices rose outside the window—men inquiring about one another’s health, men shouting at scribes to hurry up, men asking one another’s opinions on taxes. I leaned back. So this was the Outer Palace, where the ministers conducted their business. Finally, the carriage arrived at a quiet area, where cries of birds echoed from a distance.
We stopped again.
“Out!” a woman’s raspy voice shouted outside.
I balled my skirt in one hand, pushed open the carriage door with the other, and stepped out.
The bright afternoon sunlight blinded me. I blinked, standing in the middle of a pebble path. Facing me were rows of houses with blue roofs and red pillars. The pillars, round and tall, looked majestic, and the roofs were elegant, with tips turning upward at the corners, but when I looked carefully, I could see the surface of some pillars were cracked, exposing dark wood beneath.
It was quiet too. No merry chuckles or sound of zithers in the air. Behind the latticed doors, a shadow slid and peered outside, watching me.
“This way,” the raspy voice said again behind me, startling me. The woman was alone. “I shall take you to your room.”
The old servant limped past the houses and led me down a narrow trail through elm trees. Her shoulders dipping and rising, she looked like a boat near capsizing, reminding me of Mother’s stiff back. I offered the servant a hand, but she only scowled and waved me off.
It was cooler in the shade; a pool of light from the canal shone through the thinning leaves. In the distance, a gray pavilion stood forlornly like a faded parasol. I tried to remember the locations so I could explore in the future, but the path wound around as if to test my memory. Soon, it was hard to tell how far I was from the entrance. We walked by barren flower beds, a greenish pond with withering water lotus, and two zigzagging wooden bridges before reaching a poplar grove. Behind the grove, high walls spread like a gray curtain. I hesitated, suddenly feeling sad. Beyond the wall lay the forest, and beyond the forest was my home and the people I called family.
I composed myself and hurried to follow the servant, who was already a great distance ahead of me. We stopped at a large compound with walls and entered it. Crossing the courtyard, the servant led me to a chamber on the right and pushed open the door. Inside, a group of girls sat on the floor. They looked to be my age, thirteen or fourteen. The colors of their gowns were bright, like the rouge on their faces.
From the way they sat, I could tell they were like Big Sister, who had always behaved like a dainty lady at home. Oftentimes, she had reminded me to cover my mouth when I laughed and instructed me to walk as though bearing a tray of fruit on my head. She had been annoying enough, but I had to deal with fourteen girls like her.
One girl, with eyes shaped like almonds, rose and studied me. Her gaze lingered on my face, my robe, and then paused on my shoes. I curled my toes in embarrassment. Her shoes were made of thick red brocade and embroidered with intricate patterns of yellow flowers, and mine were of plain cloth. But before Father’s death, I had worn shoes decorated with gold leaves and jade rings, each costing more than anything the girl wore.
I remembered courtesy. “Wu an.” Good afternoon. I bowed.
She only dipped her head, as if she thought she was superior to me.