Contact with the concubines in the Cold Palace
The days that followed felt like being bathed in the gentle warmth of spring, even the cold palace's blue bricks and gray tiles seemed to take on a touch of warmth. Every morning, the first thing Ya Huan and I did was go to the well to check on the little peach tree. In just a few days, it sprouted several new leaves, so tender they seemed to drip with moisture. Ya Huan specially found a chipped, rough porcelain bowl, and every morning she would collect some dew, carefully watering it around the tree's roots, murmuring, "Little peach tree, grow quickly. When you bloom, I'll collect the best dew to make rouge for Sister Zhao and the Dowager Consort."
I leaned against the well railing watching her, carrying the vegetable seeds I'd just gotten from Granny Li. A few days ago, Granny Li had said that the empty space in the corner of the yard was a waste to leave idle, so why not plant some vegetables? They'd be edible and look nice too. "Let's plant the seeds later," I said, shaking the cloth bag in my hand. "Maybe in a few days, we'll be able to eat vegetables we've grown ourselves." Ya Huan's eyes lit up. She immediately put down her porcelain bowl, rolled up her sleeves, and went to turn the soil, her enthusiasm even greater than when the imperial kitchen was serving meals.
We squatted in the corner of the yard. Ya Huan used a small shovel to loosen the soil little by little, while I evenly scattered the rapeseed seeds and covered them with a thin layer of soil. The sunlight warmed my back, and the fresh scent of earth mixed with the aroma of grass filled my nostrils, reminding me of the days I spent camping in the wild during special forces training—except back then it was full of tension and vigilance, while now there was only peace and tranquility. Ya Huan suddenly looked up, her nose covered in dirt, like a little hamster that had just stolen some rice: "Sister Zhao, when the vegetables grow, shall we cook some vegetable porridge and send it to the Dowager Consort? She always says the porridge from the Imperial Kitchen is too greasy." I smiled and nodded, reaching out to wipe the dirt off her nose: "Okay, then we'll invite Grandma Li to try it too."
From that day on, we visited the Dowager Consort's residence more frequently. Sometimes we brought freshly boiled ginger soup, sometimes we brought grasshoppers woven by Ya Huan, and more often, we sat with the Dowager Consort by the window doing needlework. The Dowager Consort's hands gradually stopped trembling, and she taught us to embroider simple flowers and plants. I learned slowly, and my stitches were always crooked, but Ya Huan learned quickly and was able to embroider decent orchids in just a few days. The Dowager Consort would always smile and hand us a piece of candied fruit when she saw our hurried hands: "Don't rush, take your time. Doing needlework is like living life; if your mind is steady, your hands will naturally be steady too."
Once, as we were talking with the Dowager Consort, we suddenly heard a slight noise from next door. The Dowager Consort listened carefully and whispered, "It's Consort Su from the east. She used to love tending to flowers and plants, but unfortunately, she's been banished to the Cold Palace and doesn't even have a decent potted plant left." A thought struck me, and I remembered the few wild rose bushes I'd found in the corner of the courtyard a few days earlier. I said to the Dowager Consort, "Dowager Consort, let me transplant the wild roses to Consort Su's window; it will make her feel more comfortable." The Dowager Consort nodded, her eyes full of approval: "Good child, you're so thoughtful."
Ya Huan and I found a shovel and carefully dug up the wild roses, transplanting them with their clods of soil to Su Fei's window. Just as we finished watering them, Su Fei's door opened. She was wearing a faded, plain-colored ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), her hair simply tied back, and although she wore no makeup, her delicate beauty was undeniable. Seeing us, she paused for a moment, then gave a faint smile: "Thank you. This flower… I used to grow it in the palace too."
Ya Huan immediately smiled and said, "If Consort Su likes them, we can find some more flower seeds for you later." Consort Su gently shook her head, her gaze falling on the wild roses, her eyes softening considerably: "No need for that, these few plants are enough." She paused, then turned and went back into the house to retrieve a small porcelain bottle, handing it to us: "This is some floral dew I used before, you can take it and use it. Summer is coming soon, it will help you feel cooler when you apply it to your skin." I took the porcelain bottle; its surface was engraved with delicate intertwined floral patterns, and although somewhat worn, its former exquisiteness was still evident.
From then on, we would occasionally talk to Consort Su. She wasn't a talkative person, but she always loved to tell us interesting stories from the palace, such as which tree had the most vibrant flowers or which imperial chef made the most delicious pastries. Sometimes she would teach us to identify herbs, saying that it was inevitable to get a headache or fever in the Cold Palace, and knowing herbs would always come in handy. I gradually realized that these women in the Cold Palace weren't all as resentful and mean as the rumors suggested; they were simply trapped there by fate, yet they still harbored a love for life in their hearts.
Consort Rong's door was still rarely opened; each time we delivered meals, we could only leave the food boxes at the door. Until one day, Ya Huan finished delivering the meals and turned to leave when Consort Rong's door suddenly opened a crack. A pale hand reached out and handed over something wrapped in cloth. Ya Huan hesitated for a moment, then took the cloth. Consort Rong's voice came from behind the door, soft and slightly hoarse: "This is a handkerchief I embroidered before. Here, take it." Then the door closed again.
Back at our lodgings, we opened the cloth bag. Inside were two handkerchiefs embroidered with plum blossoms, the stitches fine and the blossoms lifelike. Ya Huan held the handkerchiefs, her eyes sparkling. "Consort Rong's hands are so skillful! These plum blossoms are so beautifully embroidered." Looking at the plum blossoms on the handkerchiefs, I suddenly remembered what Granny Zhang had said: Consort Rong used to be the most skilled embroiderer in the palace, and even the Empress had praised her craftsmanship. It turned out that even the seemingly eccentric Consort Rong possessed such delicate sensibilities.
Days passed, the little peach tree grew taller and taller, and the vegetables in the yard sprouted tender green shoots. Granny Li often came to sit in our yard, sometimes bringing us freshly made snacks, and sometimes teaching us needlework. Granny Zhang would also come occasionally, asking if we needed any help, and telling us about the rules of the palace, reminding us to be careful.
I gradually found myself thinking less and less about my past life as a special forces soldier, and instead becoming more accustomed to my current life. Every day, I tended to the flowers and plants with Ya Huan, did needlework with the Dowager Consort, and chatted with Consort Su. Although it was simple, it was full of warmth. I was no longer as constantly on guard as I was when I first transmigrated; instead, I slowly let down my guard and began to truly integrate into life here.
One evening, we sat in the courtyard, watching the sunset. Ya Huan leaned on my shoulder, holding the floral dew Su Fei had given her, gently rubbing it on her face. "Sister Zhao, do you think we'll always be like this?" she asked softly, her voice filled with anticipation. I looked into her bright eyes, then at the little peach tree and vegetables in the courtyard, and felt a sense of peace in my heart: "Yes, as long as we're together and live our lives well, it will always be like this."
A gentle evening breeze carried the sweet scent of wild roses, and the leaves of the small peach tree swayed softly in the wind, as if responding to our words. Suddenly, the crisp sound of wooden clogs tapping on the bluestone slabs came from afar. I looked up and saw Granny Li, her back hunched, shakily carrying a food box full of mung bean soup into the courtyard. Water droplets condensed on the vermilion lacquer box slid down the wood grain, leaving dark marks on the ground. "Come and have a taste!" The old woman's cloudy eyes smiled like crescent moons. The moment she lifted the lid, a steaming aroma of mint wafted out. I quickly took Ya Huan's hand and went to greet her. The setting sun cast our shadows into a warm, golden silhouette.
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