The next morning, Yanli kept to her usual routine, keeping her movements precise and deliberate, hoping that focusing on her tasks would keep her mind clear. She'd planned to spend the day in her hidden space, needing its quiet sanctuary. After dismissing her maids, she slipped away, making her way to the concealed entrance she'd set up in the back gardens.
Once inside, the familiar scent of herbs and earth wrapped around her, easing her mind as it always did. Yanli let out a slow breath, feeling the tension of the previous night melt away as she surveyed the lush expanse of her space. Rows of medicinal herbs, vibrant green with dew, lined the path before her, and further on, her small orchard of peach and plum trees stretched up toward the high ceiling, their branches heavy with ripening fruit. She couldn't help the faint smile that came to her lips as she moved toward her herbs, the solitude bringing her a peace she hadn't felt in days.
Yanli knelt beside a cluster of yarrow, her fingers deftly gathering a few sprigs as she murmured to herself. "These should be enough for a new batch of fever medicine." She glanced at the neat stack of jars nearby, filled with powdered roots and dried leaves she'd gathered over the weeks. Each one was carefully labeled in her neat handwriting, ready to be mixed and measured for various ailments.
Her thoughts drifted as she worked, her fingers moving automatically through the motions of gathering and preparing herbs. She found herself remembering the quiet moments spent in her space over the years, the refuge it had provided when everything else felt chaotic. There was something deeply satisfying about the physical labor, about creating something useful and pure from the earth.
Moving to her small worktable, she ground the yarrow into a fine powder, then began mixing it with a few other herbs. "Fever-reducing tonic…" she murmured, double-checking her measurements. "And this…" She added a few drops of ginger extract, the scent sharp and comforting.
After setting the mixture aside to dry, Yanli decided to turn to something less strenuous. She retrieved her calligraphy brush and a fresh piece of rice paper, letting the bristles dip into her homemade ink as she steadied her hand. The familiar flow of ink across paper grounded her, and she let her wrist move instinctively, each stroke imbued with quiet precision. She'd been practicing a poem she'd read recently, one that spoke of resilience and patience. Her brush moved with a meditative rhythm, the words forming in bold, dark lines:
"Strength lies not in unbroken walls, but in the roots that mend each scar…"
She paused, examining her work, her eyes lingering on the words. They felt strangely fitting, considering the walls she'd been building around herself lately.
A sudden, unexpected thought intruded, bringing her back to the previous night. She imagined what Zhen might say if he saw her here, surrounded by the fruits of her labor, her hidden sanctuary. A faint heat rose to her cheeks at the thought, and she quickly banished it, chastising herself for letting him intrude even in her private space.
"Foolishness," she muttered, shaking her head. "I barely know him. Why waste thoughts on him?"
Still, she couldn't quite shake the image of his expression when he'd told her she didn't have to face everything alone. The memory left an odd warmth in her chest, one she was determined to ignore.
Deciding she needed a distraction, Yanli moved to the small shelves she'd set up along the walls of her space. Her gaze lingered on the small collection of jars filled with dried fruits and carefully preserved vegetables, foods that she'd cultivated over the past months. In her mind, she began calculating how much of it she could part with. Perhaps she could arrange for a small stall in the village markets, or maybe set up a delivery service to supply the palace kitchens. The thought of her family profiting from her hidden space brought a sense of satisfaction, a small rebellion against the constraints of her position.
As she picked up a bundle of dried mushrooms, her thoughts drifted again, this time to her family. She imagined her father's stern but proud expression if he ever learned of her secret harvests, her mother's approving smile. And her brothers—they'd be thrilled at the idea of their sister quietly managing a venture that could rival some of the palace stores.
And then, unbidden, her mind wandered to Zhen again, his subtle, teasing smile, the way he'd looked at her with such quiet understanding. She felt her cheeks flush anew and huffed softly, forcing herself to focus on her task.
She moved over to a smaller table where she'd begun assembling sachet bags filled with fragrant herbs—one of the few luxuries she allowed herself in her space. The soothing scents of lavender and chamomile drifted into the air as she packed the bags, stitching them with a care that made each one unique. Yanli smiled to herself, thinking of how her family might enjoy these small comforts, and she set a particularly elegant one aside, an impulsive thought tugging at her.
"Perhaps one for him as well," she murmured, her fingers tightening as she realized what she'd said aloud. "No. What a ridiculous thought." She tried to brush it aside, but the image of Zhen receiving one of her sachets, his amused surprise, danced in her mind, refusing to leave.
With a sigh, she folded the sachet and tucked it away, pushing the thought to the back of her mind.
As the day wore on, she harvested a few more herbs, picking the ripest of the fruits from her trees and filling her baskets with the rich, fragrant bounty. Her thoughts settled into a steady rhythm, drifting back to the memories of her family and their small joys, to the days spent in quiet solitude, until finally, the image of Zhen slipped from her mind, replaced by the serenity of her space.
And yet, as she prepared to leave, she caught herself glancing back at the sachet she'd set aside, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was no harm in letting herself be a little indulgent.
For now, though, she would keep her secret of the space—and her thoughts—guarded, a quiet rebellion in a world filled with secrets and whispered promises.
As she turned to leave, her thoughts drifted to her family's potential plans for her in court, the political alliances they might see as necessary for their future. For so long, she'd known her path would be directed by duty. But as her fingers brushed the pouch hidden in her robes, she wondered—was it possible to choose a life that still honored her family while also keeping a space in her heart for herself?