The Moon in the Palace (The Empress of Bright Moon Duology)

by Weina Dai Randel

  “Do you expect me to believe that? She’s a Lady. She has no reason to be jealous of me.”

  “What I’m trying to tell you is you must never offend her. Whatever you’ve heard about her, she is more.” Jewel took a long, gold hairpin out of her white hair and began to comb it. “She stings her adversary like a hornet, and when she turns away—when you think you have survived the sting—she attacks like a scorpion that thrusts its venomous tail.”

  I understood why she had said that. “You are friends with her now.”

  She put down the comb. “You see, Mei. That’s what I like about you. You’re very intelligent.”

  I frowned. She still did not tell me why she had stolen the late Empress’s jewelry.

  “You do understand what’s going on right now, don’t you?” She picked up a makeup brush and dipped it into a colored tincture box. “The Noble Lady wants to be the empress, but so does the Pure Lady. The Noble Lady hopes her older son, Prince Ke, will replace Taizi. If Ke inherits the throne, then she’s the indisputable empress. But the Pure Lady is the Noble Lady’s equal in many ways. Do you see the predicament?”

  The princes again. Why was Jewel telling me that? I felt as though she had spread a snare before me while I sauntered around the edge of it like an ignorant bird. “I need to go back soon, Most Adored.”

  “Do not be afraid, Mei. This is why you are here. You will help us.”

  “Help you with what?” That was why Jewel stole the jewelry. She wanted to hold me hostage and force me to do her bidding.

  She began to draw something between her eyebrows. “Destroy the Noble Lady.”

  I wanted to laugh. How absurd!

  “You’ve heard about her, haven’t you? She keeps spiders as pets,” Jewel said.

  “She’s a weaver,” I said.

  The way Jewel spoke, it sounded as if the Noble Lady was a witch of some sort, but in truth, all weavers liked spiders for their spinning ability. Once a year, before the silkworm farming season started, the weavers locked a spider in a chest overnight. If the spider produced a tight web the next morning, it indicated good luck for the weaver; if the web was loose or incomplete, it predicted the weaver’s poor skill and a poor year ahead. As head of the Imperial Silkworm Workshops, the Noble Lady certainly watched closely the signs from spiders.

  “That’s the problem,” Jewel said. “A second-degree Lady is not obligated to do chores, but she carries her spindle wheel everywhere. Who knows how much she weaves every day? Her intention is clear. She just wants people to believe she’s the paradigm of goodness and a perfect candidate for the empress’s seat.” She turned to face me. “The Noble Lady is a crafty woman. Never be fooled by how good a facade she paints.”

  I said nothing. I had to tread carefully.

  “Do you understand what I am saying?” She tilted her head.

  I replied, hoping my voice was mild and docile. “Most Adored, there is nothing I can do to help you.”

  “Come.” She beckoned me to approach and then cupped her hand at my ear. Her voice was soft. “I’ll return the crowns and everything else I put in the quilt, once you extinguish the fire in the silkworm workshops. Very simple, isn’t it?”

  I pulled away. Although I was not very familiar with the process of silkworm farming, I knew how important the warmth was for the eggs. A delicate species, they relied on heat to hatch, and the nurseries must keep a dozen fires in pits to keep them warm. “The silkworm eggs will perish in the cold.”

  “They have countless batches of eggs in various stages of maturity. One night’s cold won’t kill them all.”

  Even so, the Noble Lady’s reputation would be tarnished, and she would fall into disgrace, which was what Jewel and the Pure Lady wanted. But how could I bear the guilt if I froze even one egg? It was the silkworm. The most treasured creature of the kingdom. I thought of Pheasant’s jade silkworm in my pouch.

  “You must be mad. Really mad, Jewel. What do you think the Noble Lady’s downfall will give you?”

  “Everything a woman dreams to have. When the Pure Lady and I put our great minds together, we make good plans.”

  “So you are aiding her in becoming the Empress?” Then Jewel would take the Pure Lady’s place, perhaps.

  “I knew you would understand.”

  I raised my chin. I would not be blackmailed. “I am not your pawn.”

  She peered at me, a phoenix beauty mark painted between her eyebrows. “I would hate to hear something unfortunate happened to you, Mei.”

  I stood firmly. “Don’t be so certain. You would be punished too if the Emperor knew of your stealing.”

  “My stealing?”

  “You give me no choice, Most Adored.” I would tell the Emperor the truth, even if he would punish me for my negligence.

  “You do not understand, do you, Mei?” She sighed. “How will he think it’s me, if he finds the crowns in someone else’s chamber, say, a Talent’s?”

  I faltered. “You would not dare to do that!”

  She picked up a piece of red paper near the colored boxes. “Of course not, Mei. It will not happen. I will not do that. I give you my promise. As long as you give me yours.”

  I bit my lip, unable to speak.

  She sighed, staring at the red paper in front of her. “But such is our life in the court, Mei. I’m certain you know it as well as I. The gate to the Yeting Court is perpetually open, but the path to return to the Inner Court is long and tortuous.”

  I could not raise my head. It had taken me so long and so much pain to get to where I was. My Talent title, my duty in the wardrobe chamber. I was so close to the Emperor, who would summon me any day. And Mother. I had not yet saved enough silver to send to her. If Jewel succeeded in accusing me of stealing the jewelry, everything—my dream to take care of Mother, my title, even my life—would be ruined.

  “I’m glad you understand this now. You may leave, Mei.” Jewel’s hand flicked in the air. “When I hear the news of the fire, I’ll return the items to you.”

  I wrung my hands. “I do not trust you.”

  “What other choices do you have, Mei?”

  “But…but…” I could not move. “What if the silkworms die? All of them?”

  She laid the red paper between her lips and smacked. Perfectly red lips appeared in the mirror. “Then I’ll wear my old gowns.”

  “But the workshops are guarded,” I said, desperate. “There is no way I can get in.”

  She smiled wickedly. “You’re a clever girl, Mei. And a clever girl will always find a way.”

  15

  The Imperial Silkworm Workshops, a site almost as sacred as the family shrine, was accessible to only a few skillful weavers and workers who had special permission granted by the Noble Lady. Fiercely guarded, it was where silk—the bargain for peace offerings, the gift to a woman’s heart—was made in secret.

  How could I enter the workshops?

  I thought of Sun Tzu, belatedly, after I left Jewel’s chamber. “The clever combatant imposes his will on the enemy but does not allow the enemy’s will to be imposed on him.” I wished I had remembered that while I had been in Jewel’s chamber.

  I made my way to the workshops, housed in a walled building behind the Archery Hall on the east side of the palace. When I came to the front of the gate, where two guards stood, I told them I would like to speak to the Noble Lady.

  They looked me over suspiciously. “Wait here,” one said, and the other went inside the workshops.

  I paced in front of the gate.

  Every year, the silk farming started in early spring, and many bolts of silk would be produced and brought to the markets throughout the kingdom. The Imperial Silkworm Workshops produced half of the kingdom’s silk. The other half came from the silk farms in the south, where the weather was warmer and the temperature was easier to control. Everyone
in the kingdom, young or old, understood that silk was our promise of prosperity and that silkworms were Heaven’s gifts to us.

  And I had been ordered to destroy them.

  I thought of the powerful Lady at the apple distribution, whom the eunuchs had to consult before giving away the apples. Would I bring her ruin? Or would she destroy me first?

  A plump figure in a splendid yellow gown came to the building’s threshold, and my hands began to sweat. I had hoped the Noble Lady would send a maid to fetch me. Once inside, I would find an excuse to slip away, locate the nursery, put out the fire, and leave.

  But she had come to greet me. Personally. Outside the walls of the workshops. I wanted to flee, but it was too late. I lowered my head and gave her a deep bow, thankful that etiquette mandated I avoid making eye contact.

  Hoping my voice was calm, I said, “May I be allowed to give my utmost respect to the Noble Lady, the one and only, the kindest of all.”

  “So you are the girl they were talking about. I was hoping to speak to you during the apple distribution but did not have the chance.” The Noble Lady had a pleasant voice, strong but not too loud, confident but not haughty, as if she was accustomed to speaking to a group of women. “Mei, isn’t it? You have exceptional courage, I’ve heard. If you had not been there in the Altar House, the One Above All would have been seriously harmed in the attack. I see goodness and bravery in you.”

  I lowered my eyes to show my respect. But I was surprised. Her courteousness toward a low grader like me was unexpected.

  “Would you raise your head so I will have a good look at you?”

  I obliged and fixed my gaze on her shoulders.

  “What an exquisite face. So young, graceful, and delicate, like a summer peach.” She took my hand and patted it.

  I did not know what to think. A lady held another’s hand only when they were equals, but the gap in social standing between us was as vast as the Yellow River. “I’m honored to be in your presence, my Noble Lady.”

  She put something in my hand. A pearl necklace. “A gift. I would like to reward you for your courage.”

  All the phrases I had prepared earlier evaporated like mists under the sun. “My Noble Lady…” I forgot the etiquette and stared at her in astonishment. “This honor is too great for me. I do not deserve it. Besides, a Talent is not allowed to possess any expensive gifts.” I had Pheasant’s present, of course, but no one needed to know that.

  She sighed. “I forgot. In this case, tell me, what would you like to have as a gift?”

  “I… I… ” I bit my lip. “I do not desire any treasure, my Noble Lady. If I must accept the honor, I shall be bold. For my entire life, I’ve been curious about silkworms, yet I have never seen one.”

  “Silkworms.” She hesitated. “I see.” She waved at the two guards at the gate. “She has my permission to enter.”

  The guards exchanged glances, hesitated, but stepped aside to let me enter.

  “Come.” The Noble Lady waved at me to follow her inside the building.

  I took a deep breath and crossed the threshold. I could not face her, afraid that she would read my mind. She led me to the front parlor, a small, rectangular reception room with a tiled roof. The area had a square table, two painted stools, and a vase containing a sprig of plum blossom. On the wall hung a painting of a mountain and a waterfall. Everything seemed tranquil and graceful, as if we were in a home, not in a workshop.

  After passing the parlor, we came to the front courtyard. A loud clatter rose. Startled, I froze. In front of me stood three looms, each the size of a small house. They clacked busily as female weavers pushed the front movable bars of the frames to tighten the wefts. Between two curtains of threads, shuttles flew back and forth, like swift fish in a pool of a waterfall. Each time the shuttles reached the end, the weavers stepped on the pedals and pulled the front bars of the looms. Clack. Clack.

  I had heard the noise when I’d waited outside the walls, but I had been too preoccupied to notice. So close, the sound was sharp and piercing.

  “The Imperial Workshops include five courtyards this size.” The Noble Lady ascended a raised terrace, where some female workers rolled the finished silk from the looms and some measured the silk into bolts. “The dyers work there.” She pointed at a wide space below the terrace, where some workers pulled silk through buckets of dyes.

  “I have never seen anything like this,” I said, careful not to rouse the lady’s suspicion. But I could not help being curious. I scanned the area. There was no fire or nursery to be found.

  “We shall see the silkworms soon.” She led me down a walkway near the terrace, and then I entered another world.

  The place looked like it had come from a painting. White spring lilies were tucked among the green grass like opaque pearls, blue water lotus flowered in the shiny ponds like lapis lazuli, and a field of red azalea spread near the wooden bridge like a thick carpet. In the distance, groups of willow trees stood, their long branches drooping, like crowns of exquisite silk threads.

  “Beautiful!” I blurted out.

  “As it should be.” The Noble Lady slowed down, and I could see she was not used to so much walking, but she continued until we arrived at another courtyard, where a score of workers sat before rows of steamy vats. Inside the vats, the cocoons dipped and rose in the bubbling water like eyeballs. Holding pairs of long chopsticks, the workers poked the cocoons to unfurl the silk threads.

  Ahead of me, a wide hall came into view. The Noble Lady turned to face me, her plump face blossoming with pride. “Do you hear that?”

  There was a loud swish somewhere. It sounded like the steady rhythm of drizzle, but there were no raindrops.

  “Yes.” I nodded, confused. “What is it?”

  She led me to the hall and nodded to a servant at the door, who hurried to open it. “Here we are.”

  The swishing sound rushed to my ears as the hall opened before me. She walked in first, and I followed.

  Rows of bamboo shelves spread from wall to wall. On the shelves were many large trays holding green mulberry leaves. Between the rows traveled many workers, their hair tied in head wraps and their arms carrying trays.

  The nursery.

  My heart raced faster. I walked down the aisle after the Noble Lady, and when she pulled out a tray, I looked over her shoulder. The tray was covered with tender red leaves, and under the leaves squirmed numerous white worms covered with tiny spots.

  “Silkworms,” I whispered.

  The most diligent workers, the most cherished pets, and the most precious of all creatures. The kingdom feverishly guarded them because of the threads they provided, and I stood in front of them, bearing an ugly secret.

  “Take this one.” The Noble Lady placed a small silkworm in my hand. Her voice was raised slightly so I could hear her above the swishing, the sound of the silkworms nibbling the leaves. “This baby silkworm was hatched yesterday. Be gentle. Let it like you. It thrives in quiet, warmth, and goodness.”

  I coughed, my face heating up, and the silkworm wriggled, tickling me. I tensed, praying it would not grow stiff and suddenly die in my hand.

  “How many silkworms do you have here, my Noble Lady?”

  “Do you think I would know?” She scanned the trays. “Thousands. The divine Goddess of Silkworms sees to it that they multiply by thousands.”

  “This one is so small.”

  “In three weeks, it’ll grow as big as your little finger and spill silk threads. It has a big appetite. Four feedings a day, four feedings a night. After a week, the silkworm baby eats ten times a day.” She handed me a mulberry leaf. “It’s hungry. Feed it.”

  I held the leaf in front of the silkworm. It nibbled the stem, devoured the whole leaf, and squirmed, as if asking for more. I was fascinated. What a miraculous creature. Gingerly, I put it back in the tray and peered down at an
other tray underneath.

  Thousands of tiny specks.

  Silkworm eggs.

  I tensed. They looked like white sesame seeds. But unlike those oval seeds, solid and lackluster, the silkworm eggs were round, supple, and opaque, as if imbued with an invisible force within.

  “The eggs will hatch any day now. Everyone is waiting impatiently to see the baby silkworms. This spring is unusually cool. We must keep the fire on during the day and the night.”

  “Where is the—” I caught myself. Just then a soft chanting rose in the room.

  “Come. It’s time to pray.”

  She went to the hall’s entrance, where workers knelt before a statue of a maiden with a hairstyle formed like two wheels. The Silkworm Goddess. Softly, they chanted. Their prayers were a soothing hymn to my ears but a reproachful song to my heart. I hesitated and knelt to join them. I wanted to raise my head and searched for the fire, but I was facing the courtyard with my back to the nursery, and I dared not attract attention by twisting my head back too many times. When the praying finished and the group dispersed, I rose and turned around. There, I saw it. At the end of the shelf, near the corner of the nursery, was a bronze brazier. In fact, there were four of them, one in each corner.

  The Noble Lady stood beside me. “Do you like your reward, Mei?”

  My heart was beating faster, but I tried to keep calm. “I don’t deserve to see this.”

  She smiled and headed out of the nursery.

  I followed her to the corridor. “Do you need help here, my Noble Lady?”

  “We’re always busy.”

  “I can help pick leaves,” I said. “I would like to help.”

  “I shall keep you in mind.” She went to sit on a stool in front of a small spindle wheel. Her left hand twisting three yarns, she spun the handle with her right hand.