Chapter 4: Magnolia and Begonia

She was the second person of the night to return "laden with spoils."

Though the process had been a near-death experience, the outcome didn't seem too bad.

By the time she returned to Lanlin Pavilion, Yueya was pacing like a trapped ant.

When she saw Jiang Lingzhi, wrapped in a cloak, and the uneven strands of short hair peeking from beneath her hood, the girl nearly burst into tears.

Sobbing, Yueya fetched copper scissors and, by the dim candlelight, trimmed the messy ends of her mistress's hair.

Each snip felt like a cut to her own heart.

"How can you endure such mistreatment after only a short time in the palace? What will the future hold?"

Jiang Lingzhi gazed at her unfamiliar reflection in the bronze mirror. Her short hair framed her ears, revealing her slender neck, giving her a boyish, crisp look.

She reached out and gently stroked the rough ends of her hair, then smiled softly.

"Silly girl," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, "this might actually be a good thing."

Yueya's eyes reddened. "How can this be good?"

"Your Majesty's moods are unpredictable, his heart as deep as the sea. My promotion to Consort Rong may seem like favor, but it's fraught with danger. This short hair..." She paused, her eyes in the mirror as dark and deep as an ancient well, "...it's the perfect excuse. For a while, at least, I might be able to avoid the risks of attending His Majesty."

The Jiang Clan's glory depended on her climbing higher, but first, she had to survive this man-eating golden cage.

At least tonight, she had narrowly taken her first step.

Outside, the night was as dark as ink, its oppressive shadow swallowing all sound.

Within Lanlin Pavilion, candlelight flickered, illuminating the pale yet serene profile of the newly appointed Consort Rong and the floor strewn with hair, still gleaming as if freshly cut.

The long night had barely begun, and the intricate game of the deep palace had only just begun to play out...

Jiang Lingzhi had thought that by cutting her hair and disfiguring herself, even temporarily damaging her appearance, she might at least secure a few days of peace, avoiding the Emperor's summons.

But to her surprise, at dawn the very next day, as the sky began to lighten, the sharp voice of the eunuch rang out beyond Lanlin Pavilion.

"Her Ladyship Consort Rong, Your Majesty requests your presence."

The messenger was a young, beardless eunuch, no more than twenty years old, with smooth skin and a voice as gentle as flowing water. He stood outside the hall door, bowing respectfully, his expression calm and unruffled.

At that moment, Jiang Lingzhi had just finished breakfast, the warmth of the clear rice porridge still lingering in her bowl.

Yueya was carefully preparing the meticulously blended floral oil and balm to tend to her unevenly cut hair.

At the summons, both mistress and maid froze.

Seeing no response from within, the young eunuch gently urged, "Her Ladyship, please change your robes quickly. We must not keep His Majesty waiting."

"Thank you, Eunuch," Yueya said, her wits sharp. She immediately set down the porcelain box, withdrew a heavy, gold-embroidered coin purse from her sleeve, and quietly slipped it into the eunuch's sleeve. "May we ask what matter Your Majesty wishes to discuss with her Ladyship? Could you perhaps offer a hint?"

The eunuch's fingertips twitched slightly. The weight of the purse in his sleeve caused the corner of his eye to relax almost imperceptibly, and he reluctantly elaborated.

"Your Majesty is currently in Guanghua Hall, accompanied by Consort De. Perhaps he wishes to see her, given her recent promotion. Her Ladyship may proceed as she sees fit."

Even these additional words were vague. Jiang Lingzhi scrutinized the eunuch's reaction.

"I seem to recall," she said, "that Consort De passed away last month?"

The Xiao Clan's harem was as treacherous as the imperial court. Consorts rose and fell like shooting stars and autumn leaves—all commonplace.

As such, the Xiao Clan's harem was severely understaffed.

Despite Xiao Yang's four years on the throne and his current age of twenty-one, there was still no Empress. The highest-ranking consorts were the Four Consorts, among whom Jiang Lingzhi held a prominent position.

Of the Four Consorts, the position of Consort Xian remained vacant, Consort Shu maintained a low profile, and Consort De had died the month before Jiang Lingzhi's arrival at court.

The lower ranks—the Nine Consorts and the lesser ranks of Beauties and Ladies of Virtue—had never been fully staffed.

"Her Ladyship's memory serves her well," the eunuch replied without hesitation, accustomed to such questions. "Last night, Consort Tian received His Majesty's favor. This morning, His Majesty issued an imperial decree promoting her to Consort De."

Jiang Lingzhi frowned. "Lady Tian?"

She still remembered the look Lady Tian had given her at the banquet last night—a venomous glare, like a poisoned blade.

This misfortune had earned her such a bitter enemy.

And now, that Zhaoyi had been promoted to the same Consort Rank as her.

Seeing Jiang Lingzhi's surprise, the young eunuch replied, "Actually, Her Ladyship, Consort De spoke very favorably of you to His Majesty today."

Favorable words?

Jiang Lingzhi scoffed inwardly, but her face remained impassive. She merely nodded slightly.

When the eunuch mentioned Consort De, a flicker of uncharacteristic deference crossed his eyes, revealing that Lady Tian was currently in high favor with His Majesty.

So, Tian Danhan, what exactly are you planning?

She asked no more questions and signaled Yueya to help her change.

Since she was to be received by His Majesty, and in the presence of Consort De who had supposedly "spoken favorably" of her, she couldn't afford to appear less than perfect.

As Consort Rong, she must naturally be as radiant and beautiful as possible.

Jiang Lingzhi wore a deep crimson robe with wide, flowing sleeves and a cross-collar, its surface densely embroidered with golden threads depicting intertwined peonies and phoenixes carrying pearls. Over this, she wore a matching cloud-patterned brocade jacket with broad sleeves, and a skirt with multi-colored, layered hems and trailing ribbons.

As she moved, the clinking of her jade and gold ornaments and the shimmer of her attire created a dazzling spectacle, as if she were a celestial noblewoman stepping from a tapestry of gold and silk.

The only challenge was her short hair.

Yueya, struck by an idea, retrieved extremely thin gold leaf, hammered to a delicate foil. She meticulously cut it into intricate, twining floral patterns and carefully applied them to Jiang Lingzhi's temples and forehead with a special adhesive. Two perfectly round, lustrous pearls were then added to her earlobes.

These adornments unexpectedly softened the delicate features of her already peerless face, lending her a touch of spirited refinement and an aura of inviolable dignity.

In Jiankang during July, the morning air was already thick with heat. By the time Jiang Lingzhi reached Guanghua Hall, a thin sheen of sweat had formed on her face. Fortunately, she hadn't applied too much makeup, so she avoided looking disheveled.

The moment she stepped through the hall's entrance, a chilling, oppressive cold washed over her, causing her skin to tighten abruptly and forcing her to shiver involuntarily.

Outside the hall blazed the fiery sun of the living world, yet inside it felt like the shadowy depths of the underworld.

The vast hall was carpeted with plush, silent rugs from the Western Regions, their intricate floral and winter honeysuckle patterns in rich, vibrant hues. Sixteen massive crimson pillars, each requiring sixteen men to embrace, soared toward the ceiling. Along the walls stood over a dozen bronze ice chests, each half the height of a man. Within them, fragrant herbs chilled the air, and wisps of white mist curled through the carved patterns of the chests, dispelling the heat and filling the space with a crisp, cool fragrance of grass and woods.

Guided by a palace attendant, Jiang Lingzhi passed through layers of embroidered curtains and entered the inner hall.

As she looked up, she saw Xiao Yang on the throne, laughing boisterously while embracing a woman in resplendent attire.

The woman, with her cloud-like hair and flower-like face, was none other than the newly appointed Consort De, Tian Danhan.

Below the throne, a separate seating area had been arranged.

One person leaned casually against an jade armrest, one leg propped up, pouring and drinking wine for herself.

It was Xiao Yuan.

She wore casual attire today: a sky-blue, cross-collared, narrow-sleeved short jacket made of top-quality Wu silk from the Yue region. The fabric had a soft, understated luster, and its tailored cut highlighted the straight lines of her shoulders.

The collar and cuffs were trimmed in moon-white, matching her trousers. The wide, flowing legs were cinched at the calf before disappearing into soft suede boots.

Her dark hair was braided into a loose yet firm braid that hung casually over one shoulder. Her face was unadorned, her features as clear and distinct as an ink painting.

Setting aside her personal character, this attire, so different from that of the women present, possessed a unique elegance and grace.

Jiang Lingzhi swiftly averted her gaze. Standing in the center of the hall, she adjusted her robes, curtsied flawlessly, and spoke in a clear, steady voice:

"This consort wishes Your Majesty well. May the Princess Royal be well."

She deliberately omitted any mention of Consort De, and as expected, saw the latter's expression darken. Lowering her head, she allowed a subtle curve to rise at the corner of her lips.

"Consort Rong has arrived," Xiao Yang said, releasing his arm from around Tian Danhan. He straightened in his seat, his gaze drifting with keen interest toward Jiang Lingzhi, lingering particularly on her distinctive short hairstyle and the gold leaf adornments.

He smiled. "I've heard that the women of the Jiang clan of Qiantang are renowned for their dancing. You are said to be among the most accomplished, your skill truly exceptional. Since you're here, why not perform a dance for my Imperial Sister and me?"

Jiang Lingzhi felt a flicker of irritation, her eyes sweeping subtly toward Tian Danhan, who stood nearby with a radiant, charming smile.

She didn't need to guess where Xiao Yang's "heard" had come from.

Before Jiang Lingzhi could respond, Tian Danhan spoke first, her voice sweet and melodious, tinged with just the right amount of playful protest and solicitous care.

"Your Majesty, Consort Rong is of noble lineage, a refined lady meticulously raised by her esteemed family. How could we ask her to perform like an ordinary dancer in court? That would be... quite unfair to her."

"Oh?" Xiao Yang's eyebrows rose, his smile enigmatic as he glanced from Tian Danhan to Jiang Lingzhi. "How noble? As the Son of Heaven, am I not entitled to witness such things?"

"This..." Tian Danhan glanced at Jiang Lingzhi, torn between her and the Emperor, and tried to smooth things over. "Sister, why not just dance something? It doesn't have to be perfect..."

"If you refuse, I'll order those useless legs of yours chopped off," the Emperor said casually, his voice even carrying a strangely gentle warning. "And if your dance isn't good enough..."

Jiang Lingzhi raised her eyes, her gaze steady as she looked toward the throne. Her voice rang clear and steady. "Your Majesty, have you ever heard of the Pan Drum Dance, popular during the Han Dynasty?"

Better to choose her own battleground than let them set a trap.

"You know the Pan Drum Dance?" Xiao Yang asked, surprised.

"This consort has studied the dance since childhood, always wishing to perform it for Your Majesty," Jiang Lingzhi said, lowering her head in a gesture of deference and humility. "If Your Majesty permits, this consort would be honored to demonstrate it today."

The Pan Drum Dance required dancers to leap and bound across a series of drums laid on the ground, striking them with their feet in rhythm with the music. It demanded not only exquisite grace but also exceptional rhythmic sense and stamina, making it an extremely difficult art form.

Xiao Yang's attention was completely captured. He clapped his hands and laughed heartily. "Prepare the drums quickly! Today, I shall witness the splendor of this ancient dance firsthand!"

He had long since dismissed Tian Danhan's earlier attempt at provocation.

Soon, palace attendants brought forth seven drums—one large and six smaller ones. The lacquered gold surfaces were adorned with vibrant, entwined peonies in crimson, their petals blazing with color.

Jiang Lingzhi had already changed into a cloud-sleeved robe of fiery red, its hem cascading like a sunset. Barefoot, she wore a circlet of tiny golden bells around her alabaster ankles.

She leaped lightly onto the largest drum in the center, like a crimson cloud settling among the blooming flowers.

Taking a breath, she lowered her gaze, her waist bending backward like a willow branch in the wind, forming an arc of supple grace.

Her toes lifted, then tapped the drum—

Dong!

A clear, ringing sound, like a stone dropped in a still lake, sent ripples of sound across the courtyard.

The dance began, the music swelled.

The women of the Jiang Clan were indeed skilled dancers, but the Pan Drum Dance was notoriously difficult.

Jiang Lingzhi had poured considerable effort into mastering it, originally intending it as a tool to secure the Emperor's favor. She hadn't expected to reveal this trump card so soon.

But since she had come this far, there was no point in regretting it. For the sake of the Jiang Clan, and for herself.

If she was going to dance, she would dance with all her heart!

She was no longer the demure and compliant Consort Rong. In that moment, she was a dancer, a spirit blooming lotuses upon the drums.

Her crimson figure darted and twirled among the seven drums, now like a startled swan skimming the water, now like a young swallow returning to its nest.

Golden bells chimed crisply with her movements, weaving with the drumbeats into a magnificent and vibrant symphony.

Her eyes, burning with intense focus, seemed to blaze with two tiny flames.

Xiao Yuan watched the dancing figure on the grand hall, her raven-black eyes appearing tinged with crimson by the fiery glow.

Today, the magnolia had transformed into a passionate begonia.