Chapter Thirty-One: Ink Marks Like Blood
From the first light of dawn to the setting sun, the side halls of Changchun Palace are always filled with a faint fragrance of pine soot ink mixed with indigo and ochre.
Su Moqing, dressed in a plain-colored ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), stood quietly in front of the painting table, which was more than ten feet long. She had been wielding the wolf-hair brush for three hours straight. Although her wrists were slightly sore, her eyes remained focused and burning.
The painting "Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix" on the table already possesses a divine charm. On the plain white silk, the clouds and mist are layered with light ink, like flowing gauze, partially concealing the body of the phoenix.
The phoenix's head, barely visible, is held high, its crest feathers adorned with vermilion, beautiful yet not gaudy.
The tail feathers are depicted in a mixture of azurite, malachite, and gold, with each feather as fine as a hair, shimmering with a warm luster under the light, as if surrounded by flowing light.
The surrounding birds are incredibly lifelike: the red-crowned crane stretches its neck and cries out, its wings spread like flowing clouds; the thrush perches on a plum branch, its beak seemingly holding half a petal; the egret flaps its wings as if about to take flight, the white space at the wingtips perfectly placed, as if it's about to burst through the paper at any moment...
Her use of color is bold yet disciplined; the richness of gold powder intertwines with the elegance of ink wash, highlighting the phoenix's nobility without appearing gaudy, and seamlessly blending imperial majesty with the spirit of literati.
On one side of the painting table, the ink that had been ground had been changed three times, and in the porcelain mixing tray, the various colors of pigments were arranged in order of light and dark.
The maid Tao'er gently placed a cup of warm tea on the table and whispered, "Miss Su, take a rest. You haven't had any tea since this morning."
Su Moqing didn't even raise her head. She twirled the pen slightly with her fingertips, tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and said softly, "It's alright. The phoenix's wings are still a few strokes short. We'll rest after we finish this part."
As soon as the words were spoken, soft footsteps sounded outside the hall, accompanied by a palace maid's soft call: "Her Imperial Concubine has arrived—"
Su Moqing's heart stirred, and she quickly put down her paintbrush, straightened her clothes, stood up, and stood with her head bowed to one side of the painting table.
The bright yellow curtain was gently lifted, and the imperial concubine, dressed in a palace gown embroidered with phoenixes and peonies, walked in slowly. A red gold hairpin with kingfisher feathers was tucked into her hair. As she walked, the pearls and jade made a soft tinkling sound, but it was not noisy at all, only highlighting her dignified demeanor.
The Imperial Concubine walked to the painting table, her gaze falling on the "Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix" painting, and remained silent for a long time. The head maid behind her dared not breathe, and the only sound in the hall was the rustling of bamboo leaves in the wind outside the window.
Su Moqing lowered her eyes, feeling the gaze sweep from the phoenix's tail feathers to the postures of all the birds, finally settling on her unfinished phoenix wings, carrying a scrutinizing meaning, like an invisible net gently enveloping her.
For the time it takes to burn half an incense stick, the Imperial Concubine remained silent. She simply raised her hand and gently brushed over the still-wet ink marks on the painting paper. Her fingertips were slightly cool, and she paused briefly when she touched the paint. Then, she turned and left with her entourage without saying a word, as if she had merely been passing by and glanced at the painting casually.
Only when the footsteps outside the palace completely disappeared did Su Moqing quietly raise her head, her back already damp with a thin layer of sweat. She knew that the Imperial Concubine's silence carried more weight than any judgment, and that gaze lingering on her back was clearly a test—a test of her skills, but even more so, a test of her stance.
The afternoon sun shone through the carved window lattice, casting dappled shadows on the ground.
Su Moqing was bending over to prepare a special cyan color, which was made by mixing azurite and phthalo blue in a certain proportion, and then adding a small amount of pearl powder and grinding it. The color was warm and bright, and it was most suitable for depicting the gradient on the tail feathers of a peacock.
Holding a small pestle, she carefully ground the powder in the porcelain bowl with gentle and focused movements. The pestle struck the bowl, making a soft "shush" sound, as if it were telling a silent story.
Suddenly, a series of slightly chaotic footsteps came from outside the hall. Unlike the palace servants' usual deliberately light footsteps, these footsteps were hurried and flamboyant, breaking the tranquility inside the hall.
"Is Miss Su here?" A slightly high-pitched voice rang out, carrying a hint of condescending arrogance, piercing through the curtains and entering the hall.
Su Moqing felt a chill run down her spine, put down the porcelain pestle in her hand, and gestured for Tao'er to lift the curtain.
A familiar eunuch led in two junior eunuchs. The head eunuch was about forty years old, with a pale, almost ashen face. His beardless face had slightly upturned eyes, but his gaze was icy and carried an indescribable sinister air. He wore a dark blue robe with a python-patterned embroidered patch, the python pattern on the patch being incredibly lifelike. A black jade waist tag hung from his waist, clearly indicating that he was of high rank.
"This commoner, Su Moqing, greets Eunuch." Su Moqing rose and curtsied slightly according to the etiquette of a commoner, but her gaze subtly scrutinized the other party—she had never seen this face before, but the sinister aura it exuded instantly reminded her of Lin Xiao's instructions before her departure: "Among those in the palace who are closest to Wen Shichang, there is an eunuch surnamed Jin. He is cunning and ruthless, and you must be extra careful."
"Our family name is Jin, and we serve the Imperial Concubine." Eunuch Jin said with a forced smile. The muscles at the corners of his mouth twitched, but there was no smile in them. Instead, his expression became even more sinister.
His gaze swept back and forth across Su Moqing's face, as if assessing a piece of merchandise, before settling on the painting on the table. A subtle, calculating glint flashed in his eyes. "Her Majesty is concerned about the progress of your painting, Miss, and has specially ordered me to come and take a look."
As he spoke, he stepped to the painting table and bent down to examine it with feigned seriousness. His fingers were long and slender, and his nails were neatly trimmed. However, when he traced the ink marks that were not yet dry, he deliberately applied more pressure, leaving a shallow fingerprint.
"Hmm, it's quite well painted. As expected of a painter from Yangzhou, the skill is truly exceptional." His tone was somewhat perfunctory in his praise, but he suddenly changed the subject, "I heard that Miss Su is from Yangzhou? Yangzhou is a wonderful place, a prosperous and bustling city in the third month of spring. No wonder it could produce such a talented and beautiful person as you."
These words, though seemingly ordinary, were actually a test. Alarm bells rang in Su Moqing's mind. She knew that Eunuch Jin was subtly probing her background, hinting at her "origin"—Yangzhou, though a desirable place, was far from the power center of the capital. The implication was that she was merely a rootless outsider, completely at the mercy of others in the palace.
She lowered her eyes, her tone respectful yet subtly aloof: "You flatter me, sir. I am merely a novice with some knowledge of calligraphy and painting. It is only because Your Highness has not rejected me that I have had the opportunity to paint for you. I only fear that my skills are too shallow and I may fail to live up to Your Highness's high expectations."
"Oh, young lady, you're too modest." Eunuch Jin suddenly leaned forward, almost touching the painting paper. His warm breath, carrying a faint incense scent, brushed against Su Moqing's ear, making her tense. He pointed to the blank space in the phoenix's eyes, his voice low and carrying a subtle threat: "I've heard of the ancient story of adding the finishing touch to a dragon's eyes. With one stroke, the dragon would break through the wall and fly away. How do you intend to add the finishing touch to this phoenix's eyes, young lady?"
His fingertips almost touched the silk scroll, but his eyes were fixed on Su Moqing as he said, word by word, "These phoenix eyes must convey 'loyalty' to Your Highness. If the look is not right, and others see something inappropriate... hehe, that would be a grave offense of disrespect, and I'm afraid you, Miss, cannot bear the consequences."
Su Moqing's heart skipped a beat, instantly realizing this was a blatant warning and implication. Eunuch Jin wanted her to "play a part" in the phoenix's eyes, to portray her as "submitting" to the Imperial Concubine, effectively forcing her to side with Wen Shichang's faction. If she refused, they would use the pretext of "lifeless eyes" and "malicious intent" to frame her for disrespecting the Imperial Concubine. In that case, she would likely have no chance to defend herself in this deep palace.
She forced herself to steady her breathing, her fingertips clenching slightly, her nails digging into her palms, a slight stinging pain that only made her more alert. She raised her head to meet Eunuch Jin's gaze, and replied neither humbly nor arrogantly, "Your Excellency, the phoenix is the king of birds, symbolizing nobility and majesty. Since this is a painting of the Imperial Concubine, the phoenix's eyes must naturally possess a dignified and majestic gaze, overlooking the world, to reflect the Imperial Concubine's virtuous demeanor and to live up to the dignity of the royal family. This humble woman will certainly do her utmost to paint with care and devotion, and will never fail the Imperial Concubine's grace and trust."
Her words neither directly acknowledged Eunuch Jin's claim of "loyalty" nor failed to subtly link the charm of her phoenix eyes to the status of the Imperial Concubine. This demonstrated her respect for the Imperial Concubine while maintaining her own bottom line, leaving Eunuch Jin with no room for criticism.
Eunuch Jin stared at her for a moment, his eyes sinister, as if trying to see through her thoughts. After a long while, he suddenly straightened up, clapped his hands, and chuckled dryly, "Good, very good 'graceful and majestic, looking down upon the world'! Miss is indeed a clever person. Then I'll wait to see your wonderful brushstrokes." He flicked the whisk in his hand, the horsehair on the whisk sweeping across the painting table, picking up a speck of ink, which landed on the blank space of the silk, like a silent warning.
“Oh, right,” he added as if suddenly remembering something, “Master Wen asked me to pass on a message to the young lady—'The rules in the palace are strict; one wrong step can lead to utter ruin.' The young lady is a smart person; she must know what to do. Take care of yourself.”
After saying this, he didn't look at Su Moqing again, and left with the little eunuch behind him. The palace door slammed shut, leaving behind a room full of silence, and the lingering pungent incense from Eunuch Jin.
Su Moqing stood frozen in place until the footsteps completely disappeared before slowly loosening her clenched fists, revealing several deep nail marks on her palms. Cold sweat soaked her ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), clinging to her skin, icy and bone-chilling.
She walked to the painting table, looked at the fingerprint deliberately left by Eunuch Jin, and the blank phoenix eyes, and felt a chill rise from the soles of her feet—this deep palace was indeed full of dangers.
She walked to the window, pushed it open, and outside was a square patch of sky. Several green bamboos swayed in the wind, but could not break free from the constraints of the palace walls.
She took a deep breath; the cool autumn air calmed her chaotic thoughts slightly. The jade pendant on her chest pressed against her skin; it was given to her by Shen Rulan before her departure, said to ensure her safety. Now, the pendant emitted a refreshing coolness, which strangely brought her peace.
"Orchids grow in secluded valleys, unafraid of wind and snow; though in adversity, they do not change their will." Shen Rulan once wrote this in a letter.
Yes, she couldn't panic, much less give in. If she backed down now, she would not only betray Shen Rulan's trust, but also embolden Wen Shichang's faction, and the consequences would be unimaginable.
That evening, Su Moqing dismissed Tao'er, saying that "the finishing touch requires quiet contemplation and I'm afraid of being disturbed," and stayed alone in the palace.
Only one candle was lit in the hall, its dim yellow light enveloping the painting table and casting a long shadow of her. She walked to the dressing table and took out the box of rouge that Shen Rulan had given her—the rouge was brightly colored, but she had never used it, only because Shen Rulan had said, "In times of crisis, this can help you escape."
She gently touched the bottom of the rouge box with her fingertips and found a very subtle bump, as if it had been deliberately polished.
She removed the silver hairpin from her hair, carefully inserted it into the protrusion, and gently pried it open. With a soft "click," the bottom of the rouge box slowly opened, revealing a small hidden compartment.
Inside the interlayer, besides the note that read "Be careful in everything," there was also a small roll of mulberry paper, as thin as a cicada's wing, rolled up extremely tightly.
Su Moqing's heart skipped a beat, and she quickly unfolded the mulberry paper. On the paper was a secret letter written by Shen Rulan with an extremely fine wolf-hair brush. The handwriting was hasty, and the strokes showed a hint of haste, clearly written in a rush, yet each word was clear and weighty:
"Wen Shichang is colluding with a eunuch surnamed Jin in the palace, intending to frame you using the 'Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix' painting. They might use the pretext of 'disrespectful phoenix eyes' or falsely accuse the painting of harboring treasonous intentions. If they press you too hard, feign weakness to stall for time or temporarily agree. Never confront them head-on; your safety is paramount. A separate residence has been prepared in the western part of the capital, and Lin Xiao is on standby to help you escape. Be careful in all matters and avoid impulsive actions. I have already made arrangements in Yangzhou and will ensure your safety."
After reading the letter, Su Moqing's eyes welled up with tears. It turned out that Shen Rulan had anticipated Wen Shichang's move and had paved the way for her in advance. Hidden within the hasty handwriting were unseen worries and schemes, instantly filling her previously lonely and helpless heart with a warm current.
She held the note close to the candlelight, watching the flame lick at the corner of the paper, watching it slowly curl up, char, and finally turn into a wisp of ash, scattered on the bronze candlestick.
The ashes drifted away in the wind, as if taking away all the fear and unease.
She straightened up again, her eyes gradually becoming firm—she was not fighting alone. Ru Lan was planning for her from afar, and Lin Xiao was waiting for her in the capital. She had no reason to back down.
She turned and walked back to the painting table. The candlelight fell on the phoenix waiting to be painted, its head held high, as if waiting for the moment when it would be given a soul.
Su Moqing reached out and gently stroked the silk, feeling the delicate texture on her fingertips. Her gaze moved from the phoenix's crest feathers to its tail feathers, finally settling on the blank phoenix eyes.
Since there is no way to retreat, then we should face the challenge head-on.
She ground the ink again, and the ink stick slowly spun in the inkstone, the fragrance of pine soot ink spreading out, carrying a calming power.
This time, she was not only grinding ink, but also all her courage and wisdom.
She must find a way out of this seemingly unsolvable predicament; she must use her paintbrush to carve out a place for herself and for Shen Rulan in the power vortex of the deep palace.
The candlelight flickered, illuminating her focused profile, her eyes gleaming with an indomitable light. She picked up a wolf-hair brush, lightly dipped it in the palette, and held the tip above the silk scroll, hesitating to bring it down—
Meanwhile, a thousand miles away in Yangzhou, the study of Shenfu Tingxuexuan was brightly lit.
Shen Rulan, dressed in a moon-white brocade robe, sat at her desk, holding a encrypted letter from the capital. It was sent by Lin Xiao through a special channel of the escort agency. The envelope was stamped with the Shen family's unique sealing wax seal. After opening it, the letter inside had been soaked in a special solution, and the writing could only be seen under candlelight.
The letter detailed the threats Jin Gonggong made to Su Moqing at Changchun Palace that day, from Jin Gonggong's words and actions to Su Moqing's response and Wen Shichang's hints, all in great detail.
After reading the letter, Shen Rulan lit it over the candle flame, watching it turn to ashes. Her face remained calm, but a terrifying storm raged in her eyes. Her hand, hidden under the table, clenched tightly, her knuckles white, and even the jade thumb ring in her sleeve felt slightly hot.
Wen Shichang, Eunuch Jin... how dare they pressure Mo Qing like this! If anything happens to Mo Qing, she will make these people pay the price!
"Young Master, what should we do?" Standing to the side, the old butler Shen Fu looked at his young master's gloomy face and was filled with worry. He had followed Shen Rulan for many years and had never seen her so angry. Even when the Shen family was in crisis, she had never had such a terrifying aura.
Shen Rulan remained silent for a moment, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and when she opened them again, the storm in her eyes had gradually subsided, replaced by a calm calculation. She walked to the desk, picked up a brush, and wrote rapidly on a sheet of Xuan paper. The brush tip grazed the paper, making a "shush" sound, and each character was powerful and penetrating.
"Shen Fu, listen carefully. Do as I say immediately, without fail." Her voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable authority.
"Yes, young master, please give your orders." Shen Fu quickly bowed and replied.
“First,” Shen Rulan put down her pen and pointed to the handwriting on the paper, “compile a copy of the contents of this letter, along with some of the evidence we previously collected about Wen Shichang’s embezzlement of salt taxes in Yangzhou. Send it to the capital overnight and send a copy to Censor Zhang of the Censorate. Remember, you don’t need to explicitly mention impeachment; just let him ‘know’ about it. If Censor Zhang knows, at least it will restrain Wen Shichang and prevent him from easily taking action against Mo Qing.”
"Second," she paused, a sly glint in her eyes, "have our informants in the capital spread the word that the Imperial Concubine greatly values the painter Su from Yangzhou. Not only has she visited Changchun Palace multiple times to view his paintings, but she has also praised his artistry highly, even intending to present 'A Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix' to the Emperor. The rumor must be spread widely, so that everyone inside and outside the palace knows that Su Moqing is someone the Imperial Concubine values. That way, if Eunuch Jin and the others want to take action again, they'll have to think twice about the Imperial Concubine's attitude."
“Third,” Shen Rulan’s eyes became resolute, “prepare a generous gift, valuable enough but not too ostentatious. Send it in my name to Eunuch Li in the palace—the one who has always been at odds with Eunuch Jin but has some influence with the Emperor. Tell Eunuch Li that Su Moqing is an old friend of mine, and I hope he will take good care of me in the palace.”
What she needed to do was not only to defend herself passively, but also to take the initiative. She wanted Wen Shichang and Eunuch Jin to know that Su Moqing was not a rootless duckweed; behind her stood the entire Shen family. To harm Su Moqing was to make an enemy of the Shen family, and they had to consider whether they had that kind of influence.
Shen Fu noted them down one by one, secretly admiring his young master's strategy—these three moves, one to restrain, one to create momentum, and one to leverage strength, were all interconnected, protecting Su Moqing while subtly giving Wen Shichang a warning.
"Don't worry, young master, this old servant will make the arrangements immediately and there will be no delay." Shen Fu bowed and turned to leave.
"Wait." Shen Rulan called out to him, her gaze fixed on the dark night sky outside the window. There, the moon over Yangzhou hung high in the sky, its cool light spilling into the courtyard like a thin layer of frost. "Send another message to Lin Xiao, telling her to keep a close eye on the movements at Changchun Palace. If Mo Qing is in any danger, immediately activate the rescue plan. Even if it takes all your strength, bring her safely out of the capital."
"Yes, this old servant understands."
After Shen Fu left, only Shen Rulan remained in the study. She walked to the window and gazed at the distant night sky, as if she could see, through the vast darkness, the figure in Changchun Palace facing the wind and rain alone.
Mo Qing, wait for me a little longer.
I will definitely clear away the obstacles as soon as possible and bring you home.
Her fingertips gently caressed the window frame, where the warmth of the day still lingered, just like her promise to Su Moqing—no matter how difficult the road ahead, she would stay behind her and be her strongest support.
The candlelight still flickered, reflecting her resolute figure and the inkstone on the table, which was not yet completely dry, its fragrance of ink wafting through the air, just like the unwavering conviction in her heart.
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