The night is thick with darkness, swallowing the imperial city of the Moukopl Empire in its inky embrace. A solitary figure dashes through the winding alleys, her panicked breaths echoing off the looming walls of the Inner Court's palaces. The girl's heart pounds in her chest, the weight of fear pressing down upon her like a suffocating blanket.
With each step, the sense of dread intensifies, the oppressive atmosphere of the city bearing down on her psyche. She knows she is being hunted, pursued by an unseen force that lurks in the shadows, ready to strike at any moment.
Suddenly, a sharp, slicing sound cuts through the silence of the night. The girl gasps as she feels a dark scythe graze her legs, the cold touch of metal sending shivers down her spine. She stifles a cry of pain, her anguish mingling with the desperate need to remain silent.
The scythe, wielded by an unseen assailant, is swiftly pulled back into the darkness, leaving the girl trembling in its wake. With a fleeting glance over her shoulder, she catches a glimpse of her pursuer's shadow, a chilling presence that looms ominously against the night.
The figure is short, their silhouette cast in stark relief against the moonlit backdrop, heightening the girl's sense of vulnerability. Gritting her teeth, she pushes herself forward, her movements fueled by sheer desperation.
Her only prayer is to outrun this merciless assassin, to evade the grasp of death that inches ever closer with each passing moment. In the darkness of the night, she races on, her fate hanging precariously in the balance as she flees into the unknown.
The girl's breath comes in ragged gasps as she navigates the labyrinthine alleys of the imperial city, her heart hammering in her chest. Panic courses through her veins, urging her to run faster, to flee from the unseen threat that hunts her relentlessly.
With each turn, she tries to zigzag between the towering palace walls and narrow passageways, her movements desperate and erratic. She knows these streets like the back of her hand, aware of every shadow and hidden alcove. Despite her familiarity, she consciously avoids the patrolling guards, veering away from their watchful eyes.
In her mind, there is only one reason she is being pursued with such ferocity: someone important wants her dead. The realization sends a chill down her spine, fueling her terror as she races against the clock.
Every corner turned, every alley crossed, brings her closer to the edge of despair. The night seems to close in around her, suffocating her with its oppressive weight. She darts between the looming palace walls, her senses heightened to the slightest sound or movement.
Suddenly, a faint rustle echoes through the darkness, sending a jolt of fear coursing through her veins. She whirls around, her eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of her pursuer. But the night remains eerily silent, broken only by the sound of her own frantic breathing.
As she whirls around, her heart still pounding from the adrenaline of the chase, she collides with a figure she did not expect to encounter at this late hour. The tall and youthful eunuch, Yile, stands before her, his expression one of surprise tinged with genuine concern.
"Kexing, what are you doing here at such a late hour?" Yile's voice is gentle, his eyes searching hers with a mix of curiosity and worry. "And in your sleeping gown? Aren't you cold?"
Kexing's gaze flickers briefly over her shoulder, where the menacing shadow of her pursuer had disappeared behind a corner of the alley. She exhales slowly, tension ebbing from her muscles as she realizes the immediate threat has passed. Turning her attention back to Yile, she weighs her options, unsure if she can trust him with her predicament.
Yile, sensing her shivering form, acts with kindness and compassion. With a soft smile, he removes his fur shawl and gently drapes it over Kexing's shoulders. The warmth of the fabric envelops her, offering a comforting shield against the chill of the night air.
"How about we share a cup of tea?" Yile suggests, his tone inviting and soothing. "It'll warm you up."
Scared and uncertain of her next move, Kexing hesitates for a moment before nodding in agreement. In Yile's presence, she finds a glimmer of safety and reassurance, a beacon of hope in the darkness of the night. With a grateful nod, she follows him, her steps faltering slightly as she leans on his steady presence for support.
Yile ushers Kexing into one of the palaces, the soft glow of candlelight casting dancing shadows across the opulent surroundings. He gestures for her to take a seat, his movements graceful and inviting.
As Kexing settles into the plush cushions, Yile busies himself with tending to the fire, adding wood and adjusting the flames until they flicker with a warm, comforting light. With a gentle smile, he returns to join Kexing, settling opposite her with an air of relaxed ease.
"Tea will be ready shortly," Yile announces, his voice calm and soothing. "It won't be long now."
Kexing nods in response, her gaze drifting around the elegant chamber. The tension of the chase begins to melt away in the tranquil atmosphere, replaced by a sense of quietude and peace.
For a moment, they sit in companionable silence, the only sounds coming from the crackle of the fire and the soft rustle of fabric. Then, Yile speaks, his tone light and casual.
"How has your day been, Kexing?" he inquires, his voice carrying a hint of genuine interest.
Kexing offers a small smile in return, grateful for the opportunity to escape the turmoil of the night. "Oh, you know," she replies, her words light and airy. "The usual routine. Nothing out of the ordinary."
Yile nods understandingly, his expression thoughtful. "Indeed," he agrees. "Sometimes, it's the routine that provides the most comfort."
Kexing's journey began in the humble confines of a small village nestled within the vast expanse of the Moukopl Empire. Born to parents of meager means, she spent her childhood navigating the trials of poverty, her days filled with the harsh realities of survival.
At a tender age, Kexing's parents made the difficult decision to send her to the imperial city, seeking a better life for their daughter amidst the grandeur of the emperor's court. With a heavy heart and dreams of a brighter future, Kexing bade farewell to her family and embarked on the arduous journey to the capital.
Upon her arrival, Kexing was assigned the role of a maidservant to the concubines of the emperor, a position fraught with both privilege and peril. For the past two years, she has served faithfully under the watchful eye of Xiuying Qiu Ju, the emperor's beloved third wife.
Kexing's days are a whirlwind of activity, beginning before the sun rises with the meticulous tasks of tending to Xiuying's chambers. With practiced precision, she sweeps and dusts, arranging the furnishings with a careful eye for detail. She prepares fragrant teas and delicacies, ensuring that every aspect of Xiuying's environment reflects the grace and elegance befitting her status.
As the day progresses, Kexing attends to Xiuying's personal needs, assisting her with dressing and grooming. She listens attentively to Xiuying's words of wisdom and comfort, finding solace in the gentle guidance of her mistress.
Despite the demands of her duties, Kexing finds moments of respite in the quiet corners of the palace gardens. Here, amidst the verdant foliage and fragrant blooms, she steals fleeting moments of leisure, her mind free to wander amidst the whispers of nature.
In the evenings, Kexing retreats to her modest quarters, her weary body finding solace in the embrace of sleep. Yet even in her dreams, she remains ever vigilant.
In the depths of the night, as the palace slumbers in silence, Kexing's dreams turn into a harrowing nightmare, a chilling echo of the torment she faces at the hands of her senior maidservants and the tyrannical head maid.
In her dream, the grandeur of the imperial chambers fades away, replaced by a sinister darkness that envelopes her like a suffocating shroud. She finds herself trapped in a labyrinth of corridors, the cold stone walls closing in around her with a menacing presence.
The air is heavy with tension, fraught with the whispers of unseen tormentors lurking in the shadows. Kexing's heart pounds in her chest, fear coursing through her veins like a poisonous river.
Suddenly, the figures of her senior maidservants materialize before her, their faces twisted with malice and contempt. They tower over her like vengeful specters, their voices dripping with scorn as they hurl insults and accusations at her.
"You worthless wretch!" one of them snarls, her voice like a whip cracking through the darkness. "You dare to defy us? You dare to bring shame upon this household?"
Kexing recoils, her body trembling with a mixture of fear and indignation. She tries to protest, to plead for mercy, but her words are drowned out by the relentless barrage of abuse.
With cruel satisfaction, the head maid steps forward, her eyes glinting with cruelty as she delivers her punishment. She lashes out with a vicious blow, the force of it sending Kexing reeling to the ground, her body wracked with pain.
The nightmare unfolds in a relentless cycle of torment and despair, each moment more agonizing than the last. Kexing's cries for help go unanswered, her pleas falling on deaf ears as she struggles against the oppressive weight of her oppressors' cruelty.
As the nightmare reaches its climax, Kexing finds herself engulfed in a maelstrom of darkness, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer brutality of her tormentors' wrath. She awakens with a start, her body drenched in sweat and her heart racing with terror, the echoes of her nightmare still haunting her every waking moment. And the day begins anew.
Yile pours the fragrant tea into delicate porcelain cups, the steam rising in gentle wisps as he offers one to Kexing with a warm smile. "Here you go, Kexing," he says softly, his gaze filled with genuine concern. "This should help warm you up."
Kexing accepts the cup with a grateful nod, her hands trembling slightly as she brings it to her lips. The soothing warmth of the tea calms her frayed nerves, offering a brief respite from the turmoil of the night.
"Thank you, Master Yile," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're too kind."
Yile's smile widens, his eyes crinkling with warmth. "It's my pleasure," he replies, his tone gentle. "I couldn't leave you out in the cold like that."
As they sit together in the quietude of the palace chamber, the air heavy with unspoken tension, Kexing finds herself drawn to Yile's comforting presence. Despite the darkness that lingers on the edges of her consciousness, she takes solace in the simple act of sharing tea with a friend.
Yet beneath the surface, a shadow looms, threatening to shatter the fragile peace of their exchange. The memory of the assassin that came to kill her in her sleep, her abusive senior maidservants and the head maid's tyranny lingers like a dark cloud, casting a pall over the tranquility of the moment.
Kexing hesitates, her thoughts swirling with uncertainty as she wrestles with the decision to confide in Yile. Would he understand? Would he believe her? The fear of rejection and betrayal gnaws at her insides, a silent specter that refuses to be ignored.
In this moment of doubt, Kexing recalls her fateful encounter with Yile. An encounter that happened only a week after being invited to the palace. Young Kexing, a maidservant lost among the many who served, found herself on that fateful day in the crosshairs of the head maid's ire. Her mistake had been minor, a misstep in protocol, yet it loomed large under the unforgiving eye of palace discipline.
As the head maid's voice rose, a crescendo of rebuke that echoed off the high walls, Kexing braced for the impending punishment. Her gaze fell to the ground, a silent plea for reprieve lost in the expanse of the courtyard.
Then, he appeared. Yile, a figure of calm amidst the storm, his presence like a sudden breeze that shifts the course of a leaf's descent. With a grace that belied his station, he approached, his strides measured, his demeanor serene.
"Silence," his voice cut through the tension, a command wrapped in velvet. The head maid paused, her authority momentarily challenged. Kexing's eyes lifted, drawn to the source of her unexpected salvation.
Yile's gaze met hers, a brief connection that felt like a lifeline. "Kexing, isn't it? I have need of your services," he announced, turning to the head maid with an authority that brooked no argument. "The gardens are in bloom, and I require fresh flowers for my quarters. I trust she can be spared from her... current duties."
The head maid, though reluctant, could not defy him. With a curt nod, she stepped back, allowing Kexing a reprieve that felt like a breath of fresh air in a suffocating room.
As Kexing moved to follow Yile's directive, she caught a glimpse of him, a wink so fleeting she might have imagined it. But in that gesture, she saw a promise, a silent understanding that he had stepped in not by chance, but by choice.
Gathering flowers under the watchful eyes of ancient trees, Kexing allowed herself a moment of wonder. Yile, with his kind demeanor and handsome face, seemed then not just a savior but a beacon of hope in the rigid hierarchy of the palace. His action, a simple diversion to some, was to her a shield thrown up in a moment of vulnerability.
That day, she returned with arms laden with blooms, their colors a stark contrast to the usual gray of her duties. In Yile's kind gaze and timely intervention, she saw the complexities of trust and the potential for friendship in a place where both were as rare as a genuine smile.
Their first meeting, etched in the corridors of her memory, became a cornerstone of her understanding of palace life. Yile, with his enigmatic blend of authority and gentleness, had shown her that not all power was wielded with a heavy hand. And in the gardens of the imperial palace, amidst the beauty and the undercurrents of power, a seed of trust was sown, fragile yet fervent, between Kexing and the eunuch who had stepped in to alter the course of her day, and perhaps, her life.
Back in the present, Yile leans forward slightly, his voice a soft caress against the backdrop of the silent room. "Tell me, Kexing, what burdens your heart in these hallowed halls?"
Kexing hesitates, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. "It's... it's the loneliness, Master Yile. And the fear. I feel like a leaf in a storm, never knowing where I might be blown next."
"Ah, the life of those who serve is indeed fraught with uncertainty," Yile muses, his tone laden with sorrow. "And is there not one among the court who makes this storm fiercer for you?"
She bites her lip, contemplating whether to confide in him. His eyes, gentle and encouraging, persuade her to speak. "Yes, there is one... One of the emperor's consorts' maidservants. She... she sees me as a rival, though I wish no part in their games. She makes my duties harder, my days longer..."
Yile nods, his expression one of deep understanding. "It is a difficult position you find yourself in. This court is a battlefield for those who wish to climb higher, stepping on whoever they find below."
Kexing looks at him, her eyes reflecting the pain of her reality. "I don't want to climb. I just want to survive, to find a moment's peace."
"And so you shall, Kexing. So you shall," Yile assures her, his voice a balm to her troubled spirit. "Trust in me, and soon, you may find that the storm quiets itself."
In the tranquil confines of the palace chamber, the oppressive weight of fear begins to lift from Kexing's shoulders, replaced by a sense of calm that washes over her like a gentle tide. The soft flicker of candlelight casts dancing shadows upon the walls, creating an atmosphere of serenity that envelops the room in a cocoon of quietude.
As Yile speaks, his words resonate with a soothing cadence, each syllable imbued with a warmth that penetrates the depths of Kexing's soul. His gentle demeanor and compassionate gaze draw her in, wrapping her in a comforting embrace that banishes the lingering specter of her recent ordeal.
With each passing moment, Kexing finds herself entranced by Yile's presence, her senses attuned to the subtle nuances of his voice and expression. His words become a beacon of hope in the darkness, guiding her through the labyrinth of her fears with unwavering grace.
In Yile's company, Kexing's troubles seem to melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and belonging that she has long yearned for. The world outside fades into insignificance as she becomes lost in the depths of his gaze, a sanctuary of solace amidst the chaos of her existence.
For a fleeting moment, the memory of the assassin that had pursued her is all but forgotten, eclipsed by the radiant presence of Yile by her side. In his company, she finds refuge from the storms that rage within her, her heart buoyed by the promise of a brighter tomorrow.
Yile stirs his tea, the liquid swirling like the undercurrents of the court. "You know, Kexing, the harmony of our imperial court is delicate, like the surface of this tea. A single leaf, out of place, can disturb its tranquility."
Kexing watches the tea, her mind racing with his analogy. "Yes, Master Yile. I've seen how one person's actions can affect so many."
He leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper, as if sharing a secret. "There's a tale, perhaps you've heard, of a single maidservant who, driven by selfish desires, threatened the peace of our entire empire. Her ambition clouded her judgment, leading her to manipulate and scheme."
Her curiosity piqued, Kexing leans closer, forgetting her initial fear. "What happened to her, Master Yile?"
"The empire is like a body, Kexing, and the emperor, its heart. Just as the body cannot tolerate a sickness, the court cannot tolerate disruption." His eyes lock onto hers, ensuring she understands the gravity of his words. "The sickness was removed, quietly, ensuring the continued harmony and prosperity of the empire."
Kexing absorbs his words, the metaphor clear in her mind. "Removing the sickness... for the good of the empire."
Yile nods, a smile playing on his lips. "Exactly, Kexing. Sometimes, to protect the many, we must take action against the few. It is a weighty decision, not made lightly, but always with the greater good in mind."
Yile picks up a small, intricately carved piece from the table, turning it over in his hands. "Consider this, Kexing, a garden overrun by weeds. The gardener, wishing only for the flowers to flourish, must sometimes uproot those weeds."
She nods, the implication dawning on her, a light of understanding in her eyes. "To protect the garden, the gardener must act. It's a matter of preservation."
Yile smiles, pleased with her grasp of the concept. "Preservation. Yes, that's the word. And in our roles, we must consider not only the present but the future of our garden. Sometimes, decisive action is taken, not out of malice, but love for the garden and every flower within it."
Yile gently places his cup on the table, its soft clink a punctuation in the quiet room. "Kexing, you've shown great understanding tonight. It's clear you see the bigger picture, the well-being of our empire."
Kexing meets his gaze, a newfound determination in her eyes. "I do, Master Yile. I see now that my actions can contribute to the harmony of the court, to the emperor's peace."
He nods, his expression one of approval. "Precisely. And in taking such actions, one does not act as an individual, but as an instrument of justice, as a guardian of peace."
"The emperor, our sun and stars, relies on us to maintain the order of his court," Yile continues, his voice a guiding light. "Imagine the favor you would curry, the protection you would have, not just from me, but from the highest powers, for taking such a brave step."
Kexing's resolve hardens, her role in this grand scheme crystallizing. "To be a guardian of peace... to act for the emperor's favor... I would be honored, Master Yile."
Yile leans back, his mission accomplished, yet his demeanor remains gentle, supportive. "The path of honor is often a difficult one, Kexing. But I believe in your strength and your loyalty to our empire. Remember, any action taken in the service of harmony and justice is a noble one."
Kexing nods, a sense of purpose filling her. "I understand, Master Yile. I am ready to do what must be done for the garden to flourish."
Yile leans forward, his eyes locking with Kexing's, a soft but firm assurance in his gaze. "Kexing, embarking on such a path is not without its risks, but know this—you will not walk it alone."
Kexing looks down, then back up, her voice steady but carrying a hint of vulnerability. "I trust you, Master Yile. But the thought of what lies ahead..."
He reaches across the table, placing a reassuring hand over hers. "Fear is natural, but let it not sway your resolve. I will be with you every step of the way, guiding, protecting. You have my word."
Her eyes search his, looking for the certainty she needs to take this leap. "And... if I were to do this, to take this step for the empire... what then?"
Yile's hand tightens slightly, a promise in his touch. "Then you will find yourself under my protection, esteemed beyond your current station. The emperor values loyalty and bravery above all else. Your actions will not go unnoticed, nor unrewarded."
Kexing nods, a slow release of breath signaling her acceptance of his terms. "To be valued, protected... it's all I've wished for."
"Beyond protection, Kexing, I see a future for you bright with possibilities," Yile continues, his voice a beacon in her storm of doubts. "A future where you stand not in the shadows but in the warmth of the emperor's favor."
A spark of hope flickers in Kexing's eyes, the idea of a future once unimaginable now within grasp. "I will do it, Master Yile. For the garden, for the empire... and for the future you see for me."
Yile smiles, his plan coming to fruition. "A wise choice, Kexing. Remember, the greatest achievements are often born from the boldest actions. You are embarking on a noble journey."
Their hands part, but the bond formed in this room, over this conversation, feels unbreakable. Kexing stands emboldened by Yile's assurances and the promise of a new dawn.
The morning sun casts a golden glow over the palace grounds as the inhabitants awaken to a new day. But the tranquility is shattered by the discovery of a chilling scene that sends shockwaves through the imperial court.
Word spreads like wildfire as servants and officials alike gather around the courtyard, their voices hushed with disbelief as they behold the grisly sight before them. High above, suspended from the branches of a towering tree, the lifeless form of the head maid of Xiuying Qiu Ju swings gently in the morning breeze.
Gasps of horror ripple through the crowd as they take in the sight, their faces pale with shock as they struggle to comprehend the magnitude of the tragedy that has unfolded. The head maid's lifeless eyes stare blankly into the distance, her body limp and motionless as it hangs from the makeshift noose around her neck.
But it is the message written in her blood that sends a chill down their spines. Beneath her feet, in stark crimson letters, the words "Torn thorns for the garden's sake" are scrawled upon the ground.
Whispers of fear and speculation fill the air as the courtiers exchange wary glances, their minds racing with unanswered questions and dark suspicions. Who could have committed such a heinous act? And what could possibly have driven them to such depths of depravity?
In the dimly lit confines of Yile's quarters, the scent of brewing tea hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the quiet murmurs of conversation. From the shadowed corner, a figure emerges, the playful laughter of a child echoing through the room.
With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, the girl, her hair cropped into a bowl cut, steps forward, her presence exuding a sense of youthful energy. "So what's the name of your new toy?" she chimes, her voice laced with playful curiosity.
Yile's expression remains composed as he takes a sip of his tea, his gaze steady as he meets the girl's gaze. "Kexing," he replies calmly, his tone tinged with a hint of authority. "She will be here in a moment, so be nice with her, Meicao."
The girl, Meicao, pouts in response, her lips forming a playful smirk as she tosses a gleaming scythe into the air with a flick of her wrist. "And hide that thing," Yile adds, his voice firm as he gestures towards the weapon.
In the midst of the room's subdued ambiance, a second girl emerges from the shadows, her demeanor serious and focused as she swiftly retrieves the scythe in the air. "Stop playing around and listen to Master Yile," she admonishes, her voice carrying a note of authority.
Yile's smile widens as he acknowledges the girl's intervention. "Thank you, Meibei," he says warmly, his gaze reflecting genuine appreciation for her level-headedness amidst the chaos.
But before the room can settle into a semblance of order, a third girl bursts through the doorway with reckless abandon, her exuberant energy palpable in the air. "Tea! Tea! Always tea!! When will we get some liquor in this shithole?!" she exclaims with exasperation, her voice echoing off the walls.
With a swift and powerful kick, she sends the teapot hurtling across the room, shattering it into a thousand pieces with a resounding crash. Laughter bubbles forth from her lips as she revels in the chaos she has wrought. "Look at you, Yile," she taunts, her words tinged with mischief. "You're soaked in piss from head to toe!"
Yile's expression darkens at the sight of the ruined teapot, his frustration evident as he raises a handkerchief to his face, his movements slow and deliberate. "Meice, go away before I order your execution," he says, his voice heavy with resignation.
But Meice pays his warning no heed, her laughter ringing out defiantly as she revels in her own audacity. "Nobody in the world can catch me," she declares boldly, her eyes sparkling with reckless abandon as she dares anyone to challenge her.
Yile rises from his seat with measured grace, his movements deliberate as he prepares to change his attire. "You should be careful," he cautions, his voice laced with a note of concern. "Our new vassals are skilled horsemen. They might catch you in no time."
Meice scoffs at his words, her expression one of incredulity as she brushes off his warning with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You mean those northern barbarians?" she retorts, her tone tinged with disdain. "Why the fuck would they come here?"
A mischievous glint dances in Yile's eyes as he meets Meice's gaze, a playful smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Because I— I mean, Our Highness, asked them to come, and who knows, they might take your challenge to heart."