Chapter 1

Nothing Is Without a Beginning

The moment she stepped through the gates of the Western Garden, Abao turned back and quietly gazed at the blue sky beyond the vermilion doors. On this day in the final month of spring of the first year of Jingning, there was a gentle, flowing breeze and soft, drifting clouds. The sky was as warm and lovely as the glaze on celadon porcelain. Interweaving willow catkins and falling cherry blossoms shimmered with a luminous golden-pink radiance beneath the daylight. Where the glaze was thin, the grayish-white clay body of the incense ash was faintly revealed.

That was the horizon.

She withdrew her gaze, straightened her blue robe, and silently followed her companions into the deep vermilion walls.

Entering the palace at an advanced age meant there was no prospect of advancement left. As a lowly menial palace servant, Abao’s first assignment was washing the clothes of the junior eunuchs in the Western Garden. Before long, however, the laundry supervisor, Li-shi, and the other palace servants who worked alongside her all came to know that this person rarely shirked her duties, was humble, patient, and gentle, and spoke little. They couldn’t help but feel a degree of fondness for her. Sometimes when the work was done and the laundry servants gathered to chat, seeing her silently listening nearby, they did not avoid her presence. The servants’ topics of conversation were nothing more than the various trivial matters of this small palace garden—who was friendly with whom, who quarreled with whom, where the leaves had withered, where the flowers bloomed, and so on. But in the end, somehow, they always ended up talking about the master of the Western Garden—the Crown Prince of the current dynasty. One of them would joyfully recount how she had once, while delivering washed clothes to the central courtyard, caught a distant glimpse of the Eastern Palace. The others would then be filled with envy, relentlessly asking the same uninspired questions over and over: “Is His Highness dark or fair?” “What was His Highness wearing?” “Did His Highness see you too?” Through this tireless cycle of questions and answers, Abao gradually learned just how handsome the Eastern Palace’s appearance was. The servants spoke with shining eyes: to be born a woman and to spend even one night with a man like the Eastern Palace—one could consider one’s life not wasted. And naturally, Abao also gradually learned of the Eastern Palace’s eccentric and harsh temperament, his severity toward subordinates, and the fact that he was not loved by the Emperor, and therefore did not occupy the proper position of the Crown Star. —This last was common knowledge throughout the court and realm.

The main hall of the Western Garden was originally named Chonghua. Because it was bestowed upon the Crown Prince, the hall was demoted to a palace and renamed Baoben. The old Chonghua Hall had originally served as a detached palace, but because the emperors of several reigns had never favored it with their presence, it had gone unrenovated for many years. The buildings were crude and cramped. Though only three or four li from the inner palace, the diminished offerings and reduced protocols here made it no different from a cold palace. And the laundry office where the servants lived was the coldest of cold palaces, for even young and handsome eunuchs were rarely seen there. The work was hardly leisurely, and the pay could hardly be called generous—truly far from what they had imagined when they first entered service to the imperial household.

Yet whenever they reached this point in the conversation, they always changed tack and comforted themselves: “But a small place has its advantages too. There will always be a chance to see His Highness in the future, right?”

Most of the servants had naturally never seen the Crown Prince with their own eyes. Those who had seen him had only caught a distant glimpse before having to avert their eyes. Yet they insisted on describing everything from the way His Highness wore his hair crown and headscarf to the patterns on the hem of his robe and the cloud-shaped toes of his boots. With so many conflicting accounts, the Eastern Palace’s appearance had several versions. Apart from the general consensus of “handsome,” the descriptions given by eyewitnesses seemed to be of entirely different people. In truth, the young servants all understood that their lives would never intersect with a figure seated at the pinnacle of the clouds. Yet they were still willing to sketch the Eastern Palace’s image in their hearts according to their own preferences and understanding, letting this beautiful idol be everywhere in the neglected palace garden, accompanying and comforting each young and lonely heart. Rich or poor, noble or lowly—perhaps it was only this lonely heart that was the same for everyone, wasn’t it?

Abao, who like the others wore her hair in double buns with silver cords across her shoulders, thus spent an entire summer washing clothes in a corner of the Western Garden.

One afternoon, Abao was just about to hang up the freshly washed clothes when Supervisor Li suddenly entered the side courtyard, looked around, and asked her: “Why are you the only one here? Where is everyone else?” Abao looked up and answered: “It’s mealtime now. The other sisters have all gone to eat.” Supervisor Li thought for a moment, then instructed: “There’s an urgent errand. You come with me—we need to deliver clothes to Consort Li and Consort Guo.” Abao knew that fengyi was the lowest rank among the Eastern Palace’s consorts, and that the supervisor, handling this errand, would not want to expend the effort to find someone else. It made sense that she had been chosen. She quickly assented, wiped her hands clean, removed her shoulder cords, and followed Supervisor Li to her quarters, where she received two boxes of already-folded clothing.

Since entering the Western Garden, Abao had been confined to the laundry office and had never stepped outside, much less visited the central courtyard. Along the way, she greedily took in the scenery of the garden. Seeing that the lotuses had faded and the osmanthus had not yet bloomed, she realized that the solar term of Start of Autumn had already passed. She hadn’t expected time to flow so swiftly—by rough count, she had been here nearly half a year already. Just as she was lost in thought, she heard Supervisor Li instruct: “I’ll deliver Consort Li’s clothes first. You don’t need to come along—just wait here for me.” Abao assented with a “Yes,” and holding the remaining box of clothing, watched Supervisor Li walk away.

Supervisor Li delivered the clothing to the servants at Consort Li’s quarters and asked why the clothes had been urgently requested this time. The servant, beaming with excitement, explained that the Consort would be attending the Emperor that night and needed the newly washed clothes perfumed and pressed before evening. The two chatted idly for another quarter hour. When Supervisor Li returned to where she had left Abao, she saw the clothing box still there, but Abao was gone. Puzzled, she looked around and suddenly saw a young eunuch come running along the palace wall. Seeing her, he immediately demanded: “Is that pale, thin slave girl one of yours?” Supervisor Li quickly nodded: “Does the young gentleman mean Abao? Where has she gone?” The young eunuch, whose childish voice had not yet changed but whose tone was quite arrogant, raised his eyebrows and curled his lip: “She only said her surname was Gu and that she was a servant from the laundry office. I don’t know what she’s called.” He glanced up and down at Supervisor Li, then continued: “So she really is yours. You look like an old hand in the palace—how could you let your subordinates run so lawlessly? We questioned her several times on His Highness’s orders, but she refused to say who she was. His Highness had to send me to find out. Now that I’ve run into you, let’s see how you escape responsibility.” Supervisor Li then realized that this was actually one of the Crown Prince’s personal attendants. Hearing the threats already spoken but still not the actual matter, she was so anxious that she could only clap her hands and pace in circles. After a long while, she changed her tone, crossed her hands in salute, and asked: “Would the honored one please tell me—what exactly has she done?” The young eunuch then remembered that he hadn’t mentioned this point, making his condemnation baseless. He composed his expression and said coldly: “She startled His Highness’s carriage.”

Supervisor Li was beside herself with panic upon hearing this and quickly asked: “How did this come about? I was only away for a moment, and she’s always been honest—where could she have gone to offend His Highness?” The young eunuch angrily retorted: “She’s your subordinate, and yet you ask me first. If she didn’t offend His Highness, are you suggesting His Highness went looking for her to be offended? Hearing such muddled and perverse words, I suppose you couldn’t have taught your subordinates any proper manners. What, you still want to open your mouth? When you get before His Highness, won’t you have plenty of time to explain yourself?” With that, he turned and walked away. Supervisor Li, frantic with worry, stumbled after the young eunuch as though treading through deep mud, passing through the corner gate and around the pond, hoping only that the person she found would not be Abao. When they reached a stretch of ornamental stones by the pond, she indeed saw Abao kneeling by the roadside, surrounded by several eunuchs and palace servants. In the center, on a stone bench, sat a youth of seventeen or eighteen, wearing a lotus-shaped jade crown and a pale blue broad-sleeved robe, with no headscarf or belt—entirely in casual home attire. Who else could it be but the Crown Prince, Xiao Dingquan? Her vision went black for a moment.

Xiao Dingquan was at that moment toying with a Korean paper folding fan. When the young eunuch ran up to him, he didn’t even raise his head, asking lazily: “Did you find the person?” The young eunuch replied softly: “Yes, she’s a servant from the laundry office.” Dingquan lifted his gaze from the gold-flecked fan surface and turned to look at a beautifully dressed woman beside him, his words full of grievance: “This Western Garden is really becoming uninhabitable. Look—even a clothes-washing slave has learned to defy her betters.” The beauty smiled gracefully and did not answer. Supervisor Li, however, had long heard of this master’s temper and, terrified, quickly knelt and kowtowed repeatedly: “It is this wretched slave who offended Your Highness. Her crime deserves ten thousand deaths. This is also because I, your old servant, have been lax in discipline. I beg Your Highness to consider that she has not been in the palace long and is young and ignorant, and to grant us both your heavenly grace and forgive our crimes.” Abao, who had been silent all this time, suddenly interjected: “This has nothing to do with the supervisor. I did it alone, and I’ll bear it alone.” Supervisor Li, frantic, lowered her head and scolded angrily: “You good-for-nothing slave! Were you really raised outside the reach of royal teachings? Even a porcelain vase on a table has two ears—do you not know how to write the words ‘Your Highness’? Surely you’ve heard people speak of it in daily life? Is this a place for you to wag your tongue? Still chattering on about ‘I’ and ‘me’—do you deliberately want to lose that mouthful of teeth?” Dingquan was amused by her scolding and turned to look at Abao again. Seeing that she too wore a look of grievance, he felt, for some inexplicable reason, a faint sense of interest. His mood today hadn’t been bad to begin with. He smiled and said to Supervisor Li: “Enough. Take her away—beat her or punish her as you see fit, but discipline her properly. If she offends again, you will share her guilt.”

Supervisor Li had never imagined that a case dripping with blood would be settled so lightly. Seeing that Abao said nothing, she quickly pushed her: “Hurry and thank His Highness for his grace!” But Abao knelt there, and no matter how many times Supervisor Li urged her, she refused to open her mouth. Dingquan had already risen to leave, but seeing this, he paused and smiled slightly: “You must be thinking—if he’s going to punish me anyway, why should I thank him? Isn’t that right?” Abao refused to speak. Supervisor Li, hating and fearing in equal measure, quickly tried to smooth things over: “Your Highness, she must be scared silly.” Dingquan asked with a smile: “Is that so?” Seeing that Abao still said nothing, he added with a laugh: “You see, she won’t even accept your explanation.” Supervisor Li was stammering, not knowing how to defend herself, when Dingquan’s face suddenly darkened. He said angrily: “Go fetch the rods here. I’ll properly teach this insolent slave who shows no respect for rank.” The young eunuch wiped a handful of cold sweat and hurried off. In a moment he returned with two men, each holding a wooden rod. Dingquan stood up and slowly walked over to Abao. He used the folding fan in his hand to lift her chin. Abao hadn’t expected him to suddenly do such a thing—her face flushed bright red, and she tightly closed her eyes, turning her face away. Dingquan studied her for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. He let go and said to Supervisor Li: “You say she was raised outside royal teachings, but I see she has a filthy sort of backbone. Put her before the Emperor in the Chuigong Hall, and I’d wager even the officials of the Censorate would concede her some of that spirit. If that’s the case, I’m afraid beating her rashly won’t truly make her submit.” He smiled and asked Abao: “Isn’t that so?” Without waiting for her answer, he sat down again and pointed at Supervisor Li, ordering: “Beat her.” The attendants on both sides assented and stepped forward to seize Supervisor Li, who was so frightened that she began pleading desperately. Abao’s face, which had just returned to its normal color, flushed blood-red again. She gritted her teeth and nodded twice, then in a low voice begged: “This slave knows her mistake. I beg Your Highness’s forgiveness.” Dingquan had never encountered such a situation. Seeing that even her ears and neck had turned red, he suddenly found it amusing and asked: “Truly?” Abao said tearfully: “Yes. This slave will never offend again.” This had never been a major matter to begin with. Now that matters had reached this point, Dingquan also felt it was rather dull and had no desire to pursue it further. He rose, waved his hand, and said: “Hand her over to Steward Zhou for disposition.”

Supervisor Li finished kowtowing her thanks and saw that Abao was still hanging her head in silence. Fearing the Crown Prince might become angry again, she quickly tugged at Abao’s sleeve: “Abao, hurry and thank His Highness for his grace!” Dingquan had already taken two steps away. Hearing this, he suddenly turned around and asked abruptly: “What’s your name?” Supervisor Li quickly answered for her: “Your Highness, she is called Abao—’bao’ as in jewel.” Dingquan was stunned for a moment, then asked: “What is her surname?” Supervisor Li answered again: “Gu—’Gu’ as in ‘to turn back and look.'”

The attendants on both sides saw Dingquan stand there in silence for a long while, not knowing what he was thinking, and dared not move. After a long pause, they heard him instruct: “Hand her over to Steward Zhou.” The followers quickly assented and moved to take her, but then they heard Dingquan turn to the beauty and say: “Have Steward Zhou check which selection she entered the palace through. You train her properly, and in the future, have her serve in Baoben Palace.”

The beauty assented and followed behind Dingquan. After walking a few steps, she turned back to look. Abao happened to raise her head at that moment and saw her—plain silk single-layer blouse, a long skirt with painted patterns, a false hair bun with no pearl ornaments, yet adorned with jadeite flower ornaments on her forehead and beside her cheeks. Her entire attire was different from that of noble consorts and also different from that of ordinary palace women. Noticing Abao’s gaze, the beauty’s lips curved into a faint smile—gentle and charming, as if with compassion, as if with mockery.