Section 1: Morning Routine Under Watch
Dawn had only just begun to touch the Inner Palace when the first bell sounded—low, clear, and patient. Steam drifted from the kitchen vents like white banners, carrying the comforting smell of rice porridge and ginger. Maids moved through the corridors in loose, practiced groups, sleeves brushing softly, voices hushed so as not to disturb the consorts still asleep behind their painted screens.
Yelan Hua walked among them without drawing attention. Her hair was tied simply, her robe the plain indigo of a lower palace girl, yet something about the way she moved made the others glance twice. She carried no tray yet, only her own quiet presence.
Gaoshun had told her the night before: "Start small. Let them see you before they decide what you are." So she did.
At the linen station, a senior maid with iron-gray streaks in her bun looked her up and down once, then thrust a tall stack of freshly folded sheets into her arms.
"West drying room," the woman said briskly. "Top shelf, left side. Don't mix these with yesterday's—Consort Lishu will notice a single wrinkle and weep for an hour."
"Yes, ma'am," Yelan Hua answered, voice soft but clear. She shifted the weight easily, as though the stack were made of clouds.
The senior maid—her name tag read "Senior Attendant Rong"—paused, eyebrows lifting. Most new girls flinched or hurried. This one simply waited.
"They're heavier than they look," Rong added, almost like a test.
"I'll manage. Thank you for the warning."
Rong gave a short "hmph" and turned away, but her eyes followed Yelan Hua down the hall.
Ten steps later, a younger maid with a bouncing braid darted up beside her.
"Hey! You're the new one Gaoshun-sama brought, right?" The girl's voice was bright, curious, barely above a whisper. "Everyone's talking about it. Said you just… appeared one day."
Yelan Hua kept walking, steady. "I suppose I did."
The girl laughed under her breath. "I'm Xiao Mei. Second-year palace maid, expert at dodging head eunuch tantrums. What's your name? Can't keep calling you 'the New one' forever."
"Yelan Hua."
Xiao Mei repeated it slowly, tasting the syllables. "Yelan Hua… sounds like moonlight on water. Pretty. Mysterious. Fits you." She grinned, then lowered her voice even more. "So, is it true Gaoshun-sama picked you himself? People say he never sponsors anyone unless they're special."
"I wouldn't know about special," Yelan Hua replied. "He said I might be useful. That's all."
Xiao Mei's eyes widened. "Useful? Coming from Gaoshun-sama, that's practically a complement" She giggled, then darted off toward the kitchens with a quick wave. "See you around, Moon-girl!"
Yelan Hua allowed herself the faintest curve of a smile as she continued on.
At the west drying room, she arranged the linens exactly as instructed—slow, precise movements that made no sound. When she turned to leave, another maid was watching from the doorway, arms crossed.
"You're thorough," the woman said. It wasn't quite praise.
"I was told Consort Lishu dislikes wrinkles."
The maid snorted. "She dislikes everything before noon. You'll learn." She stepped aside to let Yelan Hua pass, but added, "Name's Ah-Xia. If you need to know which consorts bite and which only bark, ask me."
"Thank you, Ah-Xia."
No eagerness, no shyness—just calm acceptance. Ah-Xia stared a moment longer, then shrugged and walked off.
By the time Yelan Hua returned to the service corridor, Hui-lan was waiting. The older woman had her sleeves tied back with a practical red cord, her round face already flushed from directing morning traffic.
"There you are," Hui-lan said, wiping her hands on her apron. "Linens done?"
"Yes, Obāsama."
"Good," Hui-lan said. "Come with me, then. Morning prep for Jade Pavilion. Consort Lishu wants rosewater steam and three kinds of hair oil ready before she wakes. And if anything in the stores smells off today—anything at all—you tell me immediately. Last month we had moldy cassia because someone stacked jars too tight. Nearly gave the poor girl a rash."
"I will," Yelan Hua promised.
They walked together toward the storage rooms. Hui-lan talked the whole way—half instruction, half gossip.
"Watch the junior girls around the incense jars. They think 'a pinch more' never hurt anyone. And don't let the kitchen boys near the honey—half of it walks away on their fingers."
"Yes, Obāsama."
Hui-lan glanced sideways. "Your not that lost kitten mago which I have seen few days ago ."
"Is that really maybe life and fate make the person changed so quickly ."
A short laugh escaped Hui-lan."your such a young child and yet you have so much knowledge about fate life huh sound enjoyable mago ."
Moon as yelan hua now haven't said much after hearing her obasama thoughts . and Sonner their steps took them towards the storage room
The storage room was dim and cool, shelves towering with clay jars, woven baskets, and bundles of dried herbs tied with red string. The air was thick with layered scents—star anise, dried plum, sandalwood dust. A kitchen overseer with a bushy mustache barked orders while two assistants counted jars.
"Three short on Sichuan peppercorns again!" he growled. "Either mice grew thumbs or someone's lying."
Yelan Hua stood quietly to the side, hands folded, taking it all in. Hui-lan began directing her to carry smaller baskets to the prep table.
As lids were lifted and contents checked, Yelan Hua's nose caught something—a faint heaviness near the back shelf. Not rot, exactly. More like the herbs had been breathing the same air too long, growing weary.
She stepped closer without thinking.
One of the assistants—a thin girl with nervous hands—noticed. "Did I miss something?"
"No," Yelan Hua said gently. Then, after a pause, "The middle rack… it might need more space. The air feels tired there."
The girl frowned. "Tired? Herbs don't get tired."
Hui-lan, overhearing, turned. "Let her finish."
Yelan Hua inclined her head. "It's only a feeling. Like when a room has too many people and not enough windows."
The assistant rolled her eyes but slid two baskets apart anyway, creating a small gap.
Almost immediately, a fresher note drifted out—cleaner, lighter.
The girl blinked. "Oh… wow. It does smell better." She looked at Yelan Hua with new curiosity. "How'd you even notice that?"
"I spend a lot of time listening to scents," Yelan Hua said simply.
Hui-lan watched the exchange, arms folded. "Listening to scents," she repeated. "That's a new one. But it worked." She gestured to Yelan Hua. "Come on, mago. We've got rosewater to heat."
As they left the storage room, the overseer called after them gruffly, "If the girl's nose is that good, send her back tomorrow!"
Hui-lan waved him off without turning. And the side girl whispered mago why did madam Hui lan called her mago .
And
The rest of the morning passed in small tasks—carrying basins, arranging combs, folding silk cloths into perfect squares. Everywhere Yelan Hua went, eyes followed.
"Careful of that corner—the lantern hook snags sleeves," one maid warned.
She slowed before reaching it.
"Fold the edges inward first," another instructed.
She was already doing so.
"Those oils go on the left tray," a third repeated twice.
"Yes," Yelan Hua answered each time, voice unchanged.
Slowly, almost without anyone noticing, the repeated instructions stopped. The warnings eased. Maids began speaking to her as they would anyone else—short directions, casual complaints about the weather, gossip about which consort had cried over breakfast.
By the time the sun reached mid-morning height, the kitchen corridor felt different. Less sharp. Less watchful.
Hui-lan slowed beside Yelan Hua as they carried the empty trays back, the corridor hushed except for the soft brush of their sleeves.
She glanced at the girl from the corner of her eye, lips curving faintly.
"Mago," she murmured, voice low and gentle, "you have a strange little power."
Yelan Hua tilted her head. "Power?"
"Mhm." Hui-lan gave a quiet chuckle. "People breathe easier around you. Their shoulders loosen. Their voices soften. They don't even realize when it happens."
She tapped the rim of a tray lightly. "Old women notice these things."
Yelan Hua considered this, then said softly, "Maybe they were never tense. Only… careful."
Hui-lan's eyes warmed.
"Careful is this palace's real name," she replied. "But careful around you feels different. Lighter. Like someone opened a window in a closed room."
She studied Yelan Hua's face for a lingering heartbeat — not as a supervisor, but as something quieter. Something chosen.
"Don't lose that, mago," she said gently. "It's rarer than jade in these halls."
"Yes, Obāsama."
Hui-lan shook her head with a soft laugh. "There you go again. So proper."
Then, more quietly, "But I like hearing it."
Yelan Hua lifted the next tray and moved ahead, steps light, presence barely stirring the stillness of the corridor.
The eyes that watched her had not vanished — they never truly did in the Inner Palace.
But their sharpness had softened.
What once tested now quietly wondered.
What once measured now, slowly, began to accept.
Like scent on the wind, it drifted around her.
And she let it pass, calm and unresisting, until the air itself seemed to breathe a little easier in her wake.