Preparations before meeting Qin Lan
After returning from the moat, the days flowed by slowly in anticipation of the fifteenth. Every moment in the Cold Palace felt like being immersed in a gentle summer breeze, carrying the fragrance of grass and trees and the warmth of cooking fires.
With only two days left until the 15th, even the wind in the Cold Palace seemed to carry a touch of joyful warmth. When I went to the imperial kitchen to collect my breakfast that morning, the sky was just beginning to lighten, and a thin mist still shrouded the moat. Ya Huan and I walked slowly along the cobblestone path, our shoes occasionally brushing against the roadside grass, stirring up a few glistening dewdrops. Passing by the wild roses under Consort Su's window, Ya Huan suddenly stopped, took a neatly folded piece of cotton paper from her sleeve, and gently caught a petal that had fallen onto her shoulder—she had said a few days ago that she wanted to collect some petals to make a sachet for her. Watching her careful movements, I imitated her, picking up two whole petals and tucking them into the old book I carried with me, thinking that it would be a thoughtful gift when we met again.
After receiving our meals, we walked back, and just as we turned the corner of the palace wall, we saw the Dowager Consort standing under the eaves, holding a plain porcelain vase and placing freshly picked wild chrysanthemums inside. Seeing us approach, she smiled gently and gestured for us to come closer. Ya-huan quickly stepped forward and helped place the food box on the stone table by the eaves, while I moved closer to the Dowager Consort, looking at the bright yellow wild chrysanthemums in the vase, and couldn't help but smile. The Dowager Consort picked up an unadorned wild chrysanthemum and gently tucked it into Ya-huan's hair, then picked up another and handed it to me, her eyes full of smiles. We didn't speak, but simply stood with the Dowager Consort under the eaves, watching the morning light gradually dispel the mist, turning the grass and trees in the courtyard a warm gold, the air filled with the fragrance of wild chrysanthemums—quiet and pleasant.
In the afternoon, Ya Huan and I moved small stools and sat under the veranda of the Empress Dowager Xian to do needlework. The Empress Dowager Xian taught us to embroider plum blossoms, but the needle in my hand was always unruly, and the petals I embroidered were crooked and uneven. Ya Huan, however, learned very quickly, and the plum blossoms on the embroidery hoop were already quite decent. While we were sewing, Consort Su returned from outside carrying a bamboo basket, half-filled with freshly dug wild vegetables. She walked to the veranda, gently placed the basket on the stone steps, nodded to us, and then took out two small, bright red fruits from the bottom of the basket, handing them to Ya Huan and me. The fruits were small, but a bite revealed a sweet and juicy sweetness; they were wild hawthorns unique to the back mountain. We ate the fruits while watching Consort Su prepare the wild vegetables. Occasionally, she would look up and see the fruit stains on the corners of our mouths, then take out a handkerchief and gently wipe them away, her movements as tender as if she were treating her own children.
Consort Rong's door remained tightly shut, but each time we delivered meals, we'd find new little trinkets by the door. Yesterday it was a smooth red bean, today a dried flower petal, placed beside the food box, still carrying a faint fragrance. Ya Huan collected all these things in a wooden box, and after returning to our quarters at night, we'd look through them by the dim light. Holding the red bean, she whispered to me, "Sister Zhao, do you think Consort Rong is also hoping for something? Maybe when Sister Qin Lan comes out, we can invite her to look at these little trinkets together." I nodded, thinking to myself that everyone in the Cold Palace probably harbored hopes for the future, and these little objects were the best proof.
Yesterday, on her way after delivering our meals, Granny Zhang brought us something again. She stood by the palace wall in the distance as before, and only when we approached did she pull a small packet from her sleeve and quickly hand it to me—a small bag of roasted melon seeds. She lowered her voice and said, "Your mother asked someone to tell you that she knows you like these, and wants you to keep them to eat slowly." Holding the warm paper packet, my heart warmed, I bowed deeply to Granny Zhang. She waved her hand, turned, and left, her figure quickly disappearing into the shadows of the palace wall. Back at my quarters, I divided the melon seeds into three portions: one for myself, one for Ya Huan, and the last portion I planned to bring to the Empress Dowager Xian next time I saw her.
As evening fell, Granny Li arrived on time with a food box containing freshly made sweet potato porridge, still steaming. She placed the box on the stone bench, smiled, pointed to it, and then took a cloth doll from her sleeve, handing it to Ya Huan—a little rabbit sewn from scraps of cloth, its ears adorned with neat, fine black thread stitches forming round eyes, its appearance quite adorable. Ya Huan took the doll, her eyes lighting up with joy, and repeatedly nodded her thanks to Granny Li. Granny Li sat on the stone bench, watching us drink our porridge, occasionally pointing to the vegetables in the courtyard, gesturing that they would be ready to be picked in a few days. We understood her meaning and nodded along, our faces full of anticipation.
As the fifteenth drew closer, Ya Huan, after much deliberation, packed only the most essential items into her cloth bag. She carefully wrapped the rose petals she had collected in cotton paper, then tucked in a small box of ointment for treating colds and coughs. After much hesitation, she removed a plain silver orchid hairpin from her hair and fastened it to the bag's opening: "This hairpin isn't worth much, but it might come in handy in an emergency." I couldn't help but remind her, "This is a hairpin you painstakingly saved up. Are you sure you want to give it to Qin Lan, whom you don't even know?" Ya Huan paused, her fingertips tracing the delicate orchid petals on the hairpin's tip: "There are many helpless people in the palace. I'll help them if I can." She fastened the hairpin again, her gaze on the bag gentle yet firm. I watched her focused profile, my fingertips unconsciously rubbing the hem of my clothes. My heart was filled with trepidation and anticipation at the prospect of meeting Qin Lan. Countless words swirled in my throat; I only hoped to successfully meet Qin Lan and not let down the hard work of everyone in the Cold Palace.
That evening, Ya Huan and I sat on the stone bench in the courtyard, gazing at the stars. Ya Huan leaned on my shoulder, clutching the little rabbit doll Granny Li had given her, and whispered, "I'm so happy for you. I'm already looking forward to seeing if the moon will be even fuller the day after tomorrow." I gently patted her hand, but my gaze was fixed on a star that flickered between light and shadow. The moonlight from the Cold Palace fell on the doll's ears. I was going to see Qin Lan in a day, but I wasn't the real Tian Zhao—what if she noticed the flaws in my deliberately imitated tone of voice, and discovered that I couldn't even answer questions about their childhood? My nails dug deeply into my palms, but I maintained a reassuring smile. Only the night wind knew the turbulent waves of unease churning within my chest.
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