From Special Forces Soldier to Palace Maid Delivering Meals
The bright fluorescent lights in the interrogation room blinded me, and the excruciating pain in my shoulder blades felt like it was tearing my body apart. As a female special forces soldier codenamed "Nightingale," I had carried out dozens of high-risk missions, but I never imagined I would be defeated by such a basic intelligence blunder—a supposedly deserted dock had become a trap set by the enemy. Cold chains wrapped around my wrists and ankles, and a barbed leather whip lashed my back, each lash accompanied by the sound of flesh tearing. My consciousness gradually blurred in the excruciating pain. The last thing I saw was the enemy's triumphant grin and the clear liquid slowly being injected into my veins. "Mission failed..." These were my last thoughts before losing consciousness, followed by endless darkness, where even the coldness of death became blurred.
I don't know how much time passed before I suddenly opened my eyes, a bone-chilling cold instantly enveloping my body. The disinfectant smell of the interrogation room was gone, replaced by a damp, musty odor mixed with a faint sandalwood scent. I struggled to sit up. Beneath me was a hard wooden plank bed, covered with a thin layer of faded cotton wadding. I was no longer wearing my special forces uniform, but a drab, coarse cloth dress, the rough fabric chafing against my skin. Looking around, the low-ceilinged room contained only a dilapidated wooden table and two chairs. The paper covering the windows was yellowed and torn, and cold wind seeped in through the cracks, rippling the remaining water in a chipped porcelain bowl on the table. "Where am I?" I murmured, trying to muster my strength, but found that my arms, which once easily snapped enemy necks, were now weak and powerless; even clenching my fist was difficult. Just then, the door creaked open, and a little girl dressed in a light green palace dress with her hair in two buns walked in carrying a food box. When she saw that I was awake, her face showed surprise and a little timidity: "Sister Zhao, you're finally awake! You've been unconscious for a whole day, and you scared me to death."
I stared at her warily. This palace maid named Ya Huan looked no more than fifteen or sixteen years old, with clear eyes that didn't seem hostile. But my years of special operations experience made me wary. I discreetly observed her clothing and the room's layout, and an absurd guess gradually formed in my mind—the architectural style and clothing here were like scenes from an ancient costume drama. Could it be...? I took a deep breath, trying to make my voice sound calm: "Where is this? Who am I?" Ya Huan paused for a moment, then touched my forehead worriedly: "Sister Zhao, are you still half asleep? This is the Cold Palace. We are all palace maids working in the Cold Palace. Your name is Tian Zhao, and mine is Ya Huan. You were a new palace maid assigned yesterday."
"The Cold Palace... a palace maid... Tian Zhao..." I kept repeating these words, my mind a complete mess. I was clearly captured and tortured to death by the enemy while on a mission, so how did I wake up as a palace maid in an ancient Cold Palace? And a maid who delivers meals to the Cold Palace at that? The huge gap in my status and the absurdity of reality made me dizzy. I held my forehead, trying to process this shocking news. Ya Huan was still nagging beside me, saying that I had fainted yesterday because I was caught in the rain, and that I should rest well because I had to deliver meals to the deposed concubines later.
Looking into Ya Huan's sincere eyes, I glanced down at my own coarse dress and felt the weakness and powerlessness of my body. I knew in my heart that no matter how unbelievable this all seemed, I was indeed Tian Zhao, an ordinary palace maid living in the cold palace of an unknown dynasty. The former special forces soldier "Nightingale" had died in the enemy's interrogation room, and now, Tian Zhao had to live again in this unfamiliar era, in this cold, desolate palace.
Ya Huan placed the food box on the table, lifting the lid to reveal two bowls of steaming brown rice. Beside them, a dish of wilted greens, speckled with dirt, sat on a plate. "Sister Zhao, eat it while it's hot, it'll be harder to swallow if it gets cold," she said in a low voice, her eyes unconsciously glancing towards the door, as if afraid someone would overhear. I picked up my chopsticks; the rough bamboo edges chafed my fingertips, a stark contrast to the grip on the sniper rifle I was used to. "Are the rules in the palace... very strict?" I asked casually, my gaze lingering on Ya Huan's tense shoulders—an instinctive reaction formed from prolonged stress, exactly like the recruits I'd seen in special forces training camp.
Ya Huan's hand trembled, and she almost dropped her chopsticks on the table. She hurriedly covered her mouth, glancing warily around to make sure no one was watching before daring to approach the other woman and whisper, "Sister, have you forgotten? Although the caregivers in the Cold Palace have it a bit easier than elsewhere, ever since Consort Li was sent here, spies from all the palaces have been flocking here. The head maid has repeatedly warned us not to whisper while working. If the patrolling guards or eunuchs catch us, we'll be slapped at best, and at worst... we'll be dragged to the laundry department." As she spoke, her voice trembled slightly, her fingertips gripping the hem of her clothes tightly, her nails almost digging into her palms.
"It's time to go to the imperial kitchen for your meal." Ya Huan picked up the empty food box and pulled a worn-out cotton coat from under the bed to wrap around me. "It's windy today, and you just woke up, so don't catch a cold." I followed her out of the room and found that the Cold Palace was even more desolate than I had imagined—the blue brick pavement was covered with moss, the palace walls on both sides were mottled and crumbling, and there were piles of withered branches and leaves in the corners. Occasionally, I could see a few rats scurrying by. Ya Huan's expression remained unchanged, and she did not stop walking, but simply tightened the cotton coat wrapped around me.
We encountered very few palace maids along the way, each one walking quickly with their head down, their faces expressionless, like soulless puppets. Once, two palace maids carrying basins of water walked towards us, and Ya Huan immediately pulled me to stand against the wall, only daring to continue forward after they had gone far away. "If we accidentally bump into someone, even if it's their fault, we lowly palace maids will still be punished," she explained softly in my ear, her warm breath brushing against my earlobe with a hint of caution.
From the Cold Palace to the Imperial Kitchen, one had to pass through three corridors. As we passed a side hall, I heard a woman crying inside, mixed with the sound of shattering porcelain. Ya Huan paused slightly, glancing warily left and right, carefully checking even the shadowy corners under the corridor twice. After confirming that no one was around, she lowered her voice and leaned closer, her fingertips unconsciously rubbing the hem of her clothes: "That's Consort Li's residence. She was just banished to the Cold Palace last month." Her gaze was fixed on the tightly closed palace gate in the distance, her Adam's apple bobbing twice. "Yesterday, the head maid said that she took advantage of the absence of others to bang her head against the wall, and her forehead was mangled and bloody..." Before she could finish speaking, I heard footsteps suddenly approaching from afar. I grabbed Ya Huan's wrist abruptly, pulling her quickly around the corner, her skirt brushing against the blue bricks with a soft crackling sound.
I glanced over there. The windows of the side hall were tightly shut, but the curtain wasn't fully drawn, revealing figures moving inside. My special forces instincts instantly tightened—there were at least three people inside. Although their breathing was masked by the crying, it didn't escape my specially trained ears. Judging from the footsteps, two of them were likely guards, their steps steady and powerful, and they were probably carrying weapons. "Stop looking, let's go," Ya Huan tugged at my sleeve, her face full of anxiety. "If they find out we're peeking, they'll gouge out our eyes." I looked away and followed her, a sense of unease creeping into my heart. The cold palace of this dynasty, seemingly desolate, was actually fraught with danger, and for me, an "outsider" who hadn't even grasped the basic rules of survival, surviving here would probably be even harder than carrying out a mission on the battlefield.
Upon arriving at the imperial kitchen, the head cook, Granny Liu, was scolding a young palace maid with a feather duster. A broken porcelain bowl lay on the floor, its porridge spilled everywhere. "Clumsy thing! You can't even do this little thing right, what use are you!" Granny Liu's voice was shrill and piercing. The feather duster whistled through the air as it rained down, mostly hitting the ground and splashing porridge, occasionally grazing the maid's clothes, causing her to beg for mercy. Ya Huan shrank back in fear, pulling me to hide in a corner until Granny Liu finished scolding her, only then daring to approach and hand her an empty food box.
"What are you dawdling for!" Granny Liu glanced at us sideways, her gaze like a knife scraping my face, but her voice suddenly softened: "Tian Zhao, I heard you fainted yesterday? There's been a lot of trouble in the palace lately, and you just went to the Cold Palace. Be careful, don't lose this hard-earned job." She paused, then her tone turned fierce: "If today's meal is late, you'll be in big trouble!" As she spoke, she deftly arranged several bowls of food into the food box. The celadon bowls clinked crisply, and the steaming aroma of the food wafted over. Her movements were quick yet steady, not a single drop of soup spilled.
On the way back, Ya Huan stretched her wrists, clutching the food box tightly, and whispered, "The master inside could turn over at any time, we can't be careless. If the food spills, things will get tough." She deftly lifted the food box, glanced around warily, and whispered again, "My sister just arrived and has been following me closely, I can handle this weight." Looking at her energetic appearance, I suddenly realized that in this dark and gloomy palace, it was Ya Huan's indomitable resilience that was the light illuminating the way forward.
By the time we returned to the Cold Palace, it was already dusk. A cold wind swirled withered leaves around the palace walls, making a howling sound, like someone weeping softly. Ya Huan delivered the meals to the various deposed concubines' quarters, and I followed behind her, taking the opportunity to observe each room. The old concubine living in the easternmost room had gray hair, and when she opened the door, I noticed several old scars on her wrists. Surprisingly, the room was spotless; the faded bedding was folded into perfect squares, the dust on the window frames had been wiped clean, and there wasn't even a cobweb in the cracks of the blue bricks. It felt like stepping back into a disciplined military camp. In the middle room lived a young woman whose eyes were vacant as she received the meals, as if she had lost all hope. The door to the westernmost room remained tightly shut. Ya Huan simply placed the food box at the door, knocked, and immediately pulled me away.
I followed Ya Huan, deliberately slowing my pace until I was sure no one was around, before asking in a low voice, "Who lives in that room?" I had noticed a small hole in the paper window of that room when we passed by earlier; it didn't seem like a natural tear. Ya Huan pulled me quickly back to our room, and only dared to whisper after closing the door, "That's where Consort Rong lives. Three years ago, she was banished to the Cold Palace for plotting against the imperial heir. I heard... she went mad on her first day here. Sometimes she talks to thin air and throws things at people, so the nanny told us to leave as soon as we delivered the food and not go near her room."
I lay on the cold bed, my mind replaying everything I'd seen and heard that day. This palace was like a giant cage, imprisoning countless youths and lives, and I, a special forces soldier from the modern era, had now become one of those prisoners. I needed to understand the situation of this dynasty, to find a way to survive in this deep palace, and more importantly—I needed to figure out why I had been reborn into the body of a palace maid named Tian Zhao, and whether I could ever go back.
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