Within the quiet garden, a maid moved to gather the scattered fabrics. Another younger maid, looking slightly bewildered, carefully cradled the sleeping puppy, bundled in soft material, and prepared to follow her companion towards Concubine Sū's chamber. As they walked, the newer maid couldn't help but ask why Concubine Sū had requested the discarded fabrics from the other consorts' homes. The older maid gave a simple answer, one she had likely spoken often: "We cannot discard such generosity of His Majesty." Understanding seemed to filter across the younger maid's face, and they left the garden, their footsteps fading into the night.
The last of the lantern light flickered as the younger maid, cradling the sleeping puppy wrapped in soft fabric, followed the older maid out of the Plum Blossom Garden courtyard. The sounds of their footsteps faded into the night, leaving behind a profound silence that settled once more over the small, humble space. The discarded fabrics and sewing basket were gone, the space tidy and calm, reflecting the quiet order of its occupant.
From the shadows near the bamboo, Emperor Qi Fǔzhēn emerged. The Emperor's steps were slow, deliberate, his mind clearly elsewhere. The weariness that usually shadowed his face seemed less prominent, replaced by a focused contemplation.
He walked slowly across the courtyard, his gaze lingering on the spot where Concubine Sū Zhéyān had sat, where she had cared for the pup, where she had endured the sharp words of Pei and Gu with such quiet dignity. The image of her, bent over the sewing, using discarded materials with a simple practicality, was striking.
Discarded fabrics... His Majesty's generosity... Her words, reported by the maid and overheard earlier, echoed in his mind. Not a plea for new wealth, not a demand for more luxury, but a simple, almost respectful acknowledgement of what was available, even if it was cast off by others. It was a perspective so alien to the prevailing ethos of the inner palace.
He thought of the endless requests for funds, the extravagant demands, the focus on outward display he'd heard about just hours before. Concubine Mei wanting more for outings, Concubine Chao and Pei needing larger retinues and finer silks. And here was Concubine Sū, making a bed for a puppy from scraps, seeing it as a matter of not wasting resources.
"She is... unlike the others, Bao," Emperor Qi Fǔzhēn said, his voice low, breaking the silence, having noticed the quiet return of his servant. It wasn't a question, but a statement of dawning realization.
"Indeed, Your Majesty," Chief Eunuch Bao replied, his tone carefully neutral, yet a flicker of something akin to curiosity himself present in his eyes. He had served for many years, seen countless consorts come and go, witnessed every manner of ambition and folly. But Concubine Sū was, truly, an anomaly.
"They scratch and claw for favor, for status, for wealth," Qi Fǔzhēn continued, gesturing vaguely towards the more elaborate parts of the palace. "They see only what they can gain. She... she sees value in what is overlooked. She finds peace in quiet tasks. She endures their scorn without retaliation." He shook his head slowly, still processing the stark contrast.
His earlier frustration with the inner palace felt different now. It wasn't just weariness; it was a realization that perhaps, just perhaps, there were depths he had not bothered to look for, assuming only shallowness existed.
They walked in silence back towards the Emperor's own grand residence, the contrast between its opulence and the humble garden they had just left palpable. The lists of noble candidates for Empress lay waiting, symbols of duty and political necessity. But the image of Concubine Sū Zhéyān, sewing by lantern light, persisted.
The following morning, the Emperor's study was once again filled with the scent of ink and paper, though the atmosphere felt slightly different. Emperor Qi Fǔzhēn was seated at his desk, the usual piles of memorials present, but his attention was solely focused on the entrance.
He had slept little, his mind replaying the previous evening's events. The quiet garden, the puppy, the disdainful concubines, Sū Zhéyān's calm composure. The enigma of Concubine Sū had eclipsed the political pressures and weariness that usually consumed him.
At his summons, Chief Eunuch Bao entered, moving with his customary quiet efficiency. He bowed deeply, awaiting the Emperor's command.
Emperor Qi Fǔzhēn looked at him directly, his gaze sharp and purposeful. "Bao," he began, his voice firm. "Last night... what we observed. It was most... illuminating."
He leaned forward slightly. "I require a full report on Concubine Sū Zhéyān. Her background before entering the palace. The circumstances of her selection. Her conduct and interactions since residing here. Any reports, official or unofficial, regarding her character or behavior from palace staff, eunuchs, or other concubines. I want to know everything you can uncover about her."
Chief Eunuch Bao's expression remained neutral, but a subtle shift in his posture indicated his understanding of the significance of this request. The Emperor, who had shown little personal interest in the lower ranks of the inner palace for years, was now demanding a detailed investigation into one of its most obscure residents.
"This slave understands, Your Majesty," Bao replied, his voice low and respectful. "I will begin gathering the information immediately. It will take some time to compile a thorough history and collect recent observations, but I will present the report to Your Majesty as soon as it is complete."
"Do so," Qi Fǔzhēn instructed, a sense of anticipation stirring within him. He needed facts, details, confirmation of what he had glimpsed. The quiet, resilient woman in the Plum Blossom Garden held a fascination that demanded understanding. The question of the Empress remained, but now, the criteria for selection felt subtly, irrevocably, altered. He awaited Bao's report with a patience he rarely afforded other matters of court.
Many hours passed, the weight of the day pressing upon the Emperor. He sat in his study, rereading the reports on potential Empress candidates, his mind still fixated on Concubine Sū. His mother's carefully curated lists, once paramount, now felt distant, almost irrelevant. He found his gaze drifting again and again to the blank scroll before him, the image of the low-level consort superimposing itself over the elegant calligraphy of noble lineages.
Finally, Chief Eunuch Bao returned, his movements as silent and respectful as ever. He presented the partial report with a deferential bow, his expression unreadable.
"Your Majesty," Chief Eunuch Bao said softly. "The information regarding Concubine Sū Zhéyānis still being compiled, but there are some initial details I can share."
Emperor Qi Fǔzhēn inclined his head, a mixture of anticipation and impatience within him. "Proceed, Bao."
"She is the youngest of seven children in the household of General Sū Qǐfǔ," Bao began. "Her six elder brothers all serve in your Majesty's army, with distinction, it is said. She is of a respectable lineage, though not of the highest noble families."
Qi Fǔzhēn listened intently, absorbing the details. It made a certain sense. Strength and loyalty seemed to run in the family.
"She does not attend the gatherings of the other concubines," Bao continued, "nor has she extended invitations to them. It appears she keeps largely to herself within the Plum Blossom Garden, interacting mostly with her own servants. She prepares the food for the puppy herself, with the help of her maids, and, as Your Majesty witnessed, uses discarded fabrics to make its bedding."
Bao's tone turned slightly tighter here, betraying perhaps a flicker of indignation. "It has also come to my attention that the other ladies, likely out of some petty jealousy or spite, have... damaged the bedding she makes for the animal. Several times, from what my sources suggest. Yet, she continues to patiently repair or remake it."
Qi Fǔzhēn's jaw tightened at this information. The cruelty and pettiness felt all the more stark when contrasted against Concubine Sū's quiet, enduring kindness. It fueled his rising sense of indignation.
"Moreover," Bao added, "the other concubines take to mocking her simple adornment. They seem to believe they have greater favor in Your Majesty's eyes, though this slave is still investigating why Consort Sū does not wear the gifts given to her. It is said, that when such taunting occurs, Concubine Sū does not engage or defend herself. She instead retreats to her garden, spending her time practicing music or... writing scriptures."
Qi Fǔzhēn's eyebrows rose slightly. This was a new layer. Scriptures? What did she write? Was this some form of inner reflection, of spiritual solace amidst the intrigues of the palace? Ancient Chinese writings served various purposes: from recording divination to personal reflection. They often carried a weight of tradition and philosophy, sometimes even serving as a form of moral instruction or a way to seek guidance. Some writings copied ancient religious texts as a form of devotion, while others documented historical events.
He leaned back in his chair, processing the information. The picture of Sū Zhéyānwas becoming clearer, more complex, and more compelling. She was not merely a quiet oddity in the inner palace. She was a woman of quiet strength, grounded by simple acts of kindness, and seemingly fortified by some inner source, perhaps spiritual, perhaps just an unshakeable inner peace.
"Scriptures..." he murmured, more to himself than to Bao. It was yet another detail that distinguished her so sharply from the other consorts.
He looked at Bao, a newfound resolve in his eyes. "Continue your investigation, Bao. I need the full report, every detail you can uncover. And I need to understand this woman. Her history, her thoughts, her heart. The matter of the Empress remains… but I find myself increasingly drawn to the Plum Blossom Garden. I believe I will take another walk there this evening."