The palace hallway glowed with a gentle sunlight that poured through the wooden lattice windows, turning the air into a soft haze of gold and dust specks that floated lazy like tiny fairies caught in a daydream. It was the kind of morning that felt too kind for the ache still lingering in Moon's bones—the light warm on her face as she shuffled along, robes whispering against the polished floor, hands tucked into her sleeves like a lost child trying to hide from the world. The corridor stretched long and quiet, walls paneled in smooth gloss that reflected the glow, red pillars standing sentinel at intervals, their carvings of cranes and clouds seeming to shift if you stared too long. A faint echo of water trickled from a courtyard pond somewhere nearby, mingling with the distant chirp of birds waking up to the day.
Hui-lan walked beside her—slow and dignified, each step measured like she was pacing out the rhythm of the palace itself, her Gray robes swaying gentle with the motion. The older woman carried a small basket hooked on her arm, filled with folded linens that smelled of fresh starch and sun-dried cotton, her hair pinned in that simple knot that looked effortless but held every strand in place. She glanced at Moon now and then, eyes crinkling at the corners with that mix of patience and quiet amusement, like a grandmother watching a kitten stumble through grass for the first time.
Moon glanced up at her, the sleeves of her robe slipping long over her hands again, making her feel like she was wearing a tent. "So... where are we going? Breakfast round two?" Her voice came out half-mumble, still thick from the futon's pull, the porridge from dawn sitting warm in her stomach but not quite chasing the night's fog.
Hui-lan blinked—once, slow—her prim expression softening just a touch, like the light had warmed it too. "We shall proceed to the kitchens, child.The morning meal must be prepared for the noble ladies." Her tone was gentle, laced with that formal lilt, but there was a steadiness to it, like she'd said the words a thousand times and meant them everyone.
Moon nodded like she understood absolutely nothing—head bobbing quick, sleeves flopping with the motion. "Okoh, nice. Like, kitchen-kitchen? Or like... fancy-MasterChef palace kitchen? With all the shiny pots and yelling?"
Hui-lan blinked again—confusion furrowing her brow faint, the basket swinging light on her arm. "I do not know this 'master chef' you speak of... but it is merely a humble kitchen where the lowly servants labor." She tilted her head, eyes narrowing thoughtful. "Is this 'master' a title from your land? Some manner of overseer?"
Moon whispered dramatic leaning in like sharing a conspiracy, voice dropping low as they passed a red pillar carved with soaring cranes. "Okay, so... NO Gordon Ramsay. Got it." She straightened, grinning despite the knot in her chest, the palace's beauty pulling at her like a half-remembered song—the lattice windows framing bits of blue sky, the floor so smooths her slippers slid a touch.
Hui-lan frowned—deepening the lines around her mouth, but her eyes held that spark of curiosity, like Moon was a puzzle she didn't mind solving slow. "This Ramsay fellow sounds fearsome. Does he wield a ladle like a sword?" The question came out prim, but there was a dry humor under it, the kind that came from years of palace absurdities.
Moon snorted—loud, unladylike, clapping a hand over her mouth too late, the sound echoing faint off the walls. "Kinda. Yells a lot. Throws stuff. But yeah, fierce." She fell into step closer to Hui-lan, the older woman's pace pulling her along like a current, the basket's linens brushing her arm soft.
They walked like that—grandma and granddaughter on a stroll neither had planned, Moon slipping slightly on the polished floor, her slippers catching the lacquer's shine, sending her stumbling half a step. Hui-lan caught her sleeve instant—fingers quick but gentle, steadying without a word, the basket swinging harmless on her other arm.
"Mind thy steps," Hui-lan said, voice prim but laced with that mom-worry, releasing the sleeve slow. "The corridor is lacquered smooth; one such as thyself might tumble."
Moon righted herself—cheeks warm, grinning sheepish. "Aw, thanks, lady hui lan . You're like my guardian NPC." The words slipped casual, modern slang rolling off her tongue like it was nothing, but she patted Hui-lan's arm light—quick tap, grateful.
Hui-lan frowned deeper—brow knitting, hand pausing on the basket. "I am not familiar with this 'en-pee-shee' clan... Is it a house of warriors from your province?" Her tone stayed gentle, but the confusion shone clear, eyes searching Moon's face like piecing a riddle.
Moon waved both hands—sleeves flapping again. "It's okay. You don't need to know." She fell back into step, the corridor opening wider now, painted panels of cranes taking flight on the walls, their wings seeming to beat in the light. The air grew warmer, steam faint from ahead, carrying rice and ginger hints.
Moon looked around—slowing her pace, eyes widening as the hallway stretched: red pillars gleaming like polished blood, golden ornament beams overhead twisting in vine patterns, a faint echo of water from a courtyard pond slipping through an open arch, floating silk curtains billowing lazy in the breeze. The beauty tugged at her—familiar ache blooming in her chest, like seeing an old photo you can't place. These patterns... these colors... these halls... A faint memory pulled—ink-stained pages under a lamp, illustrations of palaces with curving roofs and crane carvings, words whispering of intrigues and herbs. Her breath hitched—sharp pull, the book flashing clear:. Wait... is this—?
The thought hit like cold waterbrain rejecting it hard, shaking her head fast to dislodge it. "Nope. Nope nope nope. Don't think. Brain, shut up. Too much work. Not today." She slapped her cheeks lightly—smack-smack, sting blooming pink, the sound echoing faint off the pillars.
Hui-lan looked horrified—hand flying to her mouth, eyes widening round. "Child! Why does you strike your own face?! Does an evil spirits overtaken your mind ?!" Her voice pitched high, basket swinging as she reached out, fingers hovering like to ward off ghosts.
Moon waved both hands frantic sleeves tangling again. "No evil spirit, just mental health issues!" The words burst out, modern clip clashing the hall's hush, her laugh short and shaky.
Hui-lan stared—deep concern etching her face, hand dropping slow. "Metal... health...? Is this any kind of inner iron unstable? Should We fetch a physician—"
Moon choked on a laugh—nearly doubling over, hand on her stomach. "No, no—it's fine! Just... brain stuff. Like... overthinking." She straightened, wiping her eyes, the corridor's beauty blurring a touch. The panels of cranes seemed to watch, wings frozen mid-beat, the golden beams twisting like vines reaching for sun.
They reached the kitchen entrance then—a low archway steamed with warmth, the door half-open on sliding tracks, scents drifting out thick and inviting rice bubbling soft, ginger sharp, faint scallion green. Hui-lan placed a hand on Moon's back—warm palm, ushering forward like a stubborn goose being herded to feed. "Come along now," she said, voice firming back to that prim rhythm. "If the art to linger in this palace, then the hands must be useful. The noble ladies rise soon, and their meals wait for no one's whims."
Moon nodded—stepping through the arch, steam wrapping her like a hug, the kitchen unfolding: low counters scarred from knives, clay pots simmering on coals, baskets of roots and leaves spilling color on the shelves. "Okay okay... look like the grandma type mode has been activated! Let's cook." She rolled her sleeves up, grinning despite the knot in her chest, the familiarity pulling again—the smells, the steam, the rhythm of it all like a page she'd turned a hundred times.
Hui-lan paused at the threshold—hand on the door, brow furrowing faint. "...I do not know this 'mode,'" she said, voice thoughtful, "but I shall assume it is a positive state." She stepped in after, basket set aside, the kitchen's warmth chasing the corridor's cool. Moon dove in—grabbing a spoon from the wall, stirring a pot with more enthusiasm than skill, the rice mush bubbling cheerful. The older woman watched a beat—eyes crinkling amusement—then joined, hands moving efficient beside her, the morning unfolding simple as that: two women in a steam-filled room, the palace waking slow around them.
Disclaimer
This work is a fan-made story inspired by The Apothecary Diaries. The world, its canon characters, and original setting belong to their creators.
Moon, her journey, and all new scenes written here are entirely my own creations. This story is shared purely for love of the universe and for personal enjoyment. No copyright infringement is intended.