Chapter 2: Shadows in the Halls

The dawn’s first light had barely touched the jade rooftops when Li Xiao slipped through the carved rosewood doors of Counselor Jin Tao’s quarters. She carried her bucket of warm water and fresh cloths, her steps silent on the polished floor. The corridors were hushed, the only sound the distant call of a nightingale echoing through open windows.

Today, her duties extended beyond the usual sweeping and polishing. Sister Wu had instructed her to deliver ink and fresh parchment to the counselor’s study, where he would be reviewing state documents. Li Xiao tucked her hair behind her ears and set her shoulders straight. She would not fail.

As she approached the study, she heard muted voices: low, urgent, and unfamiliar. Li Xiao paused at the threshold and peered inside. Two maidservants—both assigned to the favored consorts—stood before the counselor’s desk, their postures haughty.

“I’m telling you, Jin Tao, this child is nothing but a clumsy fool,” one hissed, her voice laced with disdain. She was tall and slender, her hair swept up in a gleaming hairpin. “She’ll ruin the screens and spill ink on the documents. Best to send her back to the kitchens.”

Li Xiao’s chest tightened. She gripped her bucket handle until her knuckles whitened, but she did not step forward. The counselor’s voice cut through the air, calm but firm.

“Enough,” he said. His crimson eyes turned to the two maids. “Li Xiao has performed her duties without complaint for two weeks. I find no fault in her work.”

The taller maid’s lips curled into a sneer. “With respect, Counselor, she lacks experience. The screens in the northern gallery still bear smudges from yesterday’s cleaning.”

Jin Tao’s gaze sharpened. “That is a fault I will address myself. As for Li Xiao, she will remain in my service.” He turned his attention back to the documents before him. “Leave us.”

The two maidservants exchanged glances but obeyed, sweeping past Li Xiao without a word. The corridor fell silent once more.

Li Xiao exhaled, her shoulders sagging with relief. She would have to work twice as hard to prove herself, but at least the counselor had defended her.

She stepped into the study and set down her supplies. Jin Tao looked up, his expression unreadable.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

Li Xiao inclined her head. “I will fetch the parchment now, Counselor.”

He nodded, and she turned to retrieve the ink and paper from a lacquered cabinet. Her heart thumped, but she reminded herself of her purpose: to serve well and honor her adoptive father’s memory.

Midday brought the palace’s usual bustle. Servants and eunuchs hurried through open courtyards, bearing trays of fruit and stacks of scrolls. Li Xiao paused at a small window overlooking a koi pond. The water’s surface rippled with movement—silver and orange fish weaving between floating lotus blossoms. She pressed a fingertip to the cool glass, longing for a moment of peace.

A soft cough behind her made her start. She turned to find Jin Tao standing in the doorway, a single scroll in hand.

“Pardon the intrusion,” he said, stepping forward. “I wish to show you something.”

Li Xiao’s pulse quickened. “Yes, Counselor?”

He unrolled the scroll, revealing a delicate ink painting of bamboo groves and distant mountains. The brushwork was exquisite—each stroke alive with movement.

“This piece was damaged in transit,” he explained. “The lower corner was creased. I would like you to restore it.”

Li Xiao’s eyes widened. “Restore it, Counselor? I am only a maid. I—”

He held up a gloved hand. “You have a steady hand and an eye for detail. I trust you.” His crimson gaze met hers, unwavering.

She swallowed. “I will do my best.”

He nodded once and left the study, leaving her alone with the fragile scroll. Li Xiao carefully laid it on a low table and fetched a soft brush, inkstone, and delicate paper backing. Her fingers trembled as she pressed the crease flat and began to fill in missing ink strokes, matching the artist’s style as best she could.

Time slipped away. The sun sank lower in the sky, and the lanterns in the corridor flickered on. At last, Li Xiao stepped back and surveyed her work. The crease was nearly invisible; the bamboo stalks flowed seamlessly across the paper. A small thrill of pride warmed her chest.

Footsteps approached. Jin Tao entered, his face expressionless. He studied the scroll for a long moment, then gently ran a gloved fingertip along the repaired area.

“Impressive,” he said softly. “You have skill.”

Li Xiao’s heart soared. “Thank you, Counselor.”

He inclined his head and turned away. She exhaled, her hands still trembling from relief and excitement. For the first time, she felt that her place in his service might not be entirely unwelcome.

That evening, after the palace had quieted and only the soft rustle of wind chimes remained, Li Xiao joined Sister Wu and a handful of other maids in the servants’ quarters. They sat on straw mats, sharing small bowls of rice and pickled vegetables.

“Word of your restoration work has spread,” said Sister Wu, passing a bowl of soup to Li Xiao. “Even the chief librarian was impressed.”

Li Xiao accepted the bowl gratefully. “I was nervous. If I had failed, I… I don’t know what would have happened.”

Sister Wu patted her hand. “You proved yourself today. Remember this feeling.”

A younger maid leaned forward, her eyes bright. “Do you think Counselor Jin Tao will trust you more now?”

Li Xiao shook her head. “I do not know. He values skill, but I must continue to earn his respect.” She took a sip of soup, savoring the warmth.

The next morning brought an unexpected assignment. Li Xiao knelt before Sister Wu, who handed her a sealed note.

“It’s from Counselor Jin Tao,” Sister Wu explained. “He requests your presence in the training hall after your morning chores.”

Li Xiao’s breath caught. The training hall—a place reserved for elite guards and martial instructors—was not usually open to maids. She bowed. “I will go at once.”

Her chores completed, she carried the note to the hall. The wooden doors stood ajar, and she slipped inside. The room was vast, lit by high windows that let in the cool morning light. Weapons racks lined the walls: swords, spears, and halberds polished to a mirror shine.

In the center stood Jin Tao, dressed in simple training clothes. He held a wooden practice sword in one hand, his posture relaxed yet alert. Li Xiao paused, uncertain.

He turned, and his crimson eyes met hers. “Observe,” he said.

He began a series of flowing movements—parries and strikes that blended grace with lethal precision. Each motion was measured, his lean muscles rippling beneath his tunic. Li Xiao watched, mesmerized by the beauty and power of his form.

After several minutes, he stopped and she stepped forward, her footsteps echoing on the wooden floor. He sheathed the practice sword and regarded her thoughtfully.

“You saw that I practice every dawn,” he said. “Discipline is as important as duty.”

Li Xiao nodded, her voice soft. “Yes, Counselor. It was… remarkable.”

He inclined his head once. “Return to your quarters. And rest.”

She bowed deeply and left, her heart pounding. The sight of him—unshielded by robes and formalities—had left an indelible impression.

That night, Li Xiao lay on her straw mat, replaying the day’s events. The counselor’s quiet praise, the trust he placed in her restoration work, and the morning’s training demonstration all wove together in her mind. She realized that her place in the palace was no longer defined by mere survival but by the chance to grow—alongside the man with the crimson gaze.

Outside, the palace roofs glowed under the full moon, each tile a silent witness to her journey. Li Xiao closed her eyes, determination shining in her heart. She would continue to serve, learn, and prove herself worthy—no matter what shadows lurked in the corridors ahead.