That day, after strolling around Weiyang Palace, having two meals, snacking once, and bathing twice, Jiang Yunshu found herself with nothing left to do.
Everyone said the Imperial Seal Holder was temperamental—killing on a whim when displeased. Living in Xie Lin’s bedchamber, Jiang Yunshu treaded with extreme caution.
She subtly probed Xiazhi and Xiaoman for information.
Both Xiazhi and Xiaoman assured her, "The Imperial Seal Holder only kills outside the palace, never within Weiyang Palace."
"Officials beyond these walls—even the Prime Minister or the Grand General—he executes without hesitation."
"But the palace servants here, even the lowliest kitchen maid, have never been harmed by him."
Xiazhi and Xiaoman agreed that serving in Weiyang Palace was ideal: well-fed, warmly clothed, and free from bullying.
Xiaoman added, "Outsiders curse the Imperial Seal Holder, but we palace servants consider him a good man."
"Without him, how could we enjoy such comfort?"
For young maids like them, life outside would mean years of torment from older servants.
Jiang Yunshu’s expression turned complicated. To Xiazhi and Xiaoman, Xie Lin might indeed be kind.
But she had witnessed it herself—Xie Lin leading eunuchs into the imperial quarters, sending nearly a hundred concubines to their deaths...
She had narrowly escaped and taken refuge in Weiyang Palace.
Yet, did she truly count as one of its people?
The Imperial Seal Holder spared his servants, but Jiang Yunshu doubted she qualified.
So she remained vigilant. After bathing at dawn, she bathed again before bed.
Rumors claimed Xie Lin was fastidious. Terrified he might deem his bed "soiled" and kill her, she took no chances.
(Though she couldn’t fathom why a cleanliness-obsessed man would share his bed in the first place...)
Well, caution never hurt.
"Xiazhi," Jiang Yunshu asked, reclining against the bed, "what time does the Imperial Seal Holder usually return?"
Xiazhi shook her head. "There’s no fixed hour."
"But with the Emperor’s passing, he’s surely swamped. Perhaps not until midnight."
Yawning, Jiang Yunshu requested, "Brew me strong tea. I’ll wait for him."
She shared his bed rent-free; the least she could do was stay awake until he arrived.
After several cups, however, her yawns multiplied, her eyelids grew heavy...
Drowsily, it occurred to her: did her ancient body also resist caffeine?
Back in the modern world, even a double espresso couldn’t stop her from dozing off in class...
At the third quarter of the Hour of the Rat, Xie Lin returned, fresh from his bath, moonlight guiding his steps.
The bedchamber was as silent as ever—as if no intruder lingered.
A flicker of puzzlement crossed his face, then understanding: Jiang Yunshu must be cowering in some corner, too afraid to make a sound...
Rounding the screen, Xie Lin froze.
There, sprawled across the center of his white jade bed, limbs splayed, lay Jiang Yunshu—claiming more than half the space!
Her breathing was even, her face serene, utterly lost in slumber.
The scene clashed so starkly with his expectations that surprise briefly broke his usual composure.
"When did she fall asleep?" Xie Lin asked.
Studying his expression, Xiazhi cautiously defended Jiang Yunshu: "Her Ladyship drank five cups of strong tea to stay awake for you. She only dozed off accidentally—about half an hour ago."
Xie Lin stared at her peaceful face.
Accidentally?
How carefree.
Was she simple-minded?
"What did she do today?" he inquired.
Xiazhi recounted: "Her Ladyship woke at noon, had two meals and a snack, toured Weiyang Palace..."
Xie Lin didn’t know what to make of it.
Noon?
Two full meals plus snacks?
"What did she eat?" he pressed.
Xiaoman, in charge of meals, stepped forward: "Lunch included sliced fish in gravy, shrimp rolls, Dong’an chicken, golden crumble cakes, lotus seed soup with yam..."
Xie Lin cut her off. "She ate all that? Such an appetite?"
Xiaoman nodded. "Yes." After a pause, she added, "The kitchen serves many dishes, but each portion is small."
"She left half a plate of golden crumbles and gifted it to us."
Xie Lin inhaled deeply. This clarification only emphasized how little Jiang Yunshu had left uneaten.
His gaze returned to her slender frame on the bed. How could someone so slight consume so much?
He tried recalling his own meals that day—only to remember a rushed bite or two amidst his busy schedule.
Meanwhile, Jiang Yunshu had leisurely indulged in two feasts and a snack!
Her tranquil sleeping face suddenly irritated him. He pinched her nose shut.
Xiazhi and Xiaoman silently retreated.
Jiang Yunshu, deprived of air, parted her lips slightly to breathe.
Still asleep? Xie Lin covered her mouth next.
In her dreams, Jiang Yunshu suffocated, trapped in a nightmare.
A hall full of concubines played mahjong. Tables clattered throughout—except hers, where three shadowy figures waited.
They beckoned in unison: "Little sister, join us! We’re short one player."
"Come, we’re waiting just for you."
"Hurry—hurry—HURRY!"
Their voices morphed from sweet to shrill.
Three became dozens—then nearly a hundred.
All at once, they lifted their heads, hollow eyes locking onto her.
Now she saw: white silk coiled around their necks, mercury and black blood dripping from their lips.
Terrified, Jiang Yunshu stumbled back—but they lunged, choking her, sealing her mouth—
Gasping, clawing at her throat, she fought to pry the hands away—
Wait...
Her eyes flew open.
She found herself gripping Xie Lin’s wrists.
Amused, he remarked, "It seems Her Ladyship is quite fond of my hands."
"Enough to cling to them even in dreams."
