Chapter 3: A Shift in Duty

The lanterns in the eastern wing burned low as dawn’s pale light began to filter through the paper windows. Li Xiao rose quietly from her straw mat, the events of the previous day still fresh in her mind. She had watched Counselor Jin Tao practice at the training hall—each movement precise, every strike controlled—and she felt an unfamiliar admiration for the man who had once seemed so distant.

Today, her duties would change. Sister Wu had informed her late last night that Li Xiao was to serve directly under the counselor, rather than rotating among the general staff. It was an honor, and yet it filled her with both excitement and trepidation. She dressed swiftly in her simple uniform—a plain indigo tunic and trousers—and tied her hair back, mindful of the new responsibilities awaiting her.

As she stepped into the corridor, she noticed two maidservants from the consorts’ quarters watching her with narrowed eyes. They stood near the entrance to the main hall, their elaborate hairpins gleaming. Li Xiao’s heart sank; their disdain had only grown since the day she defended the court clerk.

One of them, a tall woman with a lacquered fan, smirked. “So, the lowly scrubber is now Counselor Jin Tao’s personal maid,” she said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “How fortunate—for you, at least.”

Li Xiao’s jaw tightened. She kept her gaze forward, refusing to rise to the bait. “Good morning,” she said politely and continued on her way.

The taller maid’s laughter followed her down the hall. “Don’t trip on your own apron, dear.”

Li Xiao’s cheeks burned, but she forced her shoulders back. She would not let them see her falter. Her footsteps carried her to the counselor’s chambers, where she paused at the threshold. The carved doors stood ajar, and she inhaled deeply before stepping inside.

Counselor Jin Tao sat behind his desk, reviewing a stack of petitions. He looked up as she entered, his red eyes flicking to her. The corners of his mouth remained unmoved, but there was a hint of curiosity in his gaze.

“Li Xiao,” he said.

She bowed. “Counselor.”

He gestured to a small table in the corner. “Arrange the tea set. We will discuss today’s schedule.”

Li Xiao approached the table, placing a porcelain tray on its polished surface. She arranged the teapot, cups, and kettle with practiced precision. The teapot was a deep cobalt blue, adorned with silver phoenixes; the cups were delicate porcelain, each painted with a single lotus blossom.

Once the tea was steeping, Jin Tao stood and retrieved a petition from the pile on his desk. “This must be delivered to the southern governor’s residence by sunset,” he said. “You will accompany the escort.”

Li Xiao’s heart fluttered. “Accompany the escort, Counselor?”

He nodded. “The governor values discretion. Your presence will ensure the petition arrives without incident.”

She bowed deeply. “I will prepare immediately.”

As she left to gather her things, Li Xiao’s mind raced. Riding outside the palace walls was a rare privilege for a maid. She would prove herself worthy.

By mid‑morning, Li Xiao stood in the courtyard beside a small contingent of guards and a royal carriage. The governor’s seal was emblazoned on the petition’s ivory cover. A young lieutenant bowed to her. “Escort Li Xiao, please,” he said, indicating the horse that awaited.

She nodded and climbed into the saddle with careful grace. The horse beneath her was calm and well‑trained, its coat a glossy chestnut. She patted its neck and turned to the guards. “Lead the way.”

They set off through the palace gates, the cobblestone path crunching under hoofs. The city beyond the walls was already stirring: merchants opened their stalls, street vendors hawked steamed buns, and children darted between crowds. Li Xiao kept her posture straight, focusing on the journey ahead.

An hour passed in relative calm until they reached the outer suburbs. Here, the road narrowed, flanked by rice paddies and low wooden homes. A sudden shout broke the quiet.

“Bandits! Ambush!” one of the guards cried.

Li Xiao’s heart pounded as figures emerged from the trees, brandishing crude weapons. The escort drew swords, forming a protective circle around the carriage and the petition.

“Stay back!” the lieutenant ordered her, but Li Xiao shook her head. “I will not hide while they threaten our charge.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Stay close.”

The bandits closed in, and steel rang against steel. Li Xiao gripped the reins tightly as a guard fell, crying out. She heard the crack of wood as a bandit’s spear splintered against armor. The lieutenant fought fiercely, his blade a blur.

A bandit lunged toward Li Xiao’s horse, but a guard intercepted the blow, knocking the attacker aside. Li Xiao urged her horse forward, pressing into the fray. She saw the lieutenant pinned under a fallen rider; without thinking, she lifted her foot from the stirrup and kicked at the bandit’s leg, sending him sprawling.

The lieutenant scrambled free and gave her a grateful nod. Together, they drove the bandits back until, panting and bloodied, the attackers retreated into the woods.

Silence fell broken only by ragged breaths and the whinnying of horses. Li Xiao’s heart thundered, her hands slick with sweat. The lieutenant approached and bowed. “Miss Li Xiao, your courage saved us.”

She shook her head, voice trembling. “I only did what was right.”

He helped her back into her saddle, and the escort resumed its journey. By the time they reached the governor’s residence, the sun hung low in the sky.

Counselor Jin Tao awaited them in the courtyard, his expression unreadable. He stepped forward as Li Xiao dismounted, brushing dust from her sleeves.

“You returned safely,” he observed.

She dipped her head. “Yes, Counselor. No harm came to the petition.”

He regarded her for a long moment, as though measuring her worth. Then he turned and walked toward the residence, leaving her to follow.

Inside, the governor—a portly man with a sharp gaze—received the petition with a flourish. He glanced at Li Xiao. “I hear you braved bandits to deliver this. Remarkable.”

Li Xiao’s cheeks warmed. “I was only doing my duty, sir.”

The governor smiled. “Duty or not, I am grateful. Please accept this token of appreciation.” He handed her a small silk pouch.

Li Xiao bowed. “Thank you, sir.”

Outside, she opened the pouch to find a single jade hairpin carved into the shape of a lotus. Its surface shimmered in the fading light. She pressed it to her chest, touched by the governor’s generosity.

The ride back to the palace was quiet. Li Xiao’s thoughts drifted to the counselor, who had said nothing more than “You returned safely.” Yet in those few words, she sensed approval.

That evening, the servants’ quarters buzzed with news of her bravery. Sister Wu enveloped Li Xiao in a proud embrace.

“You have earned your place,” she whispered.

Li Xiao smiled tiredly, holding the jade hairpin. “I only hope Counselor Jin Tao thinks so too.”

In the counselor’s chambers, Jin Tao stood before the carved screens she had cleaned weeks earlier. He traced a finger along the polished surface, his expression thoughtful.

When Li Xiao entered with his evening tea, he did not speak immediately. Instead, he observed her: the slight tremor in her hands, the determined set of her jaw, the quiet strength in her dark eyes.

Finally, he inclined his head. “Tomorrow, I will have need of you again.”

She met his gaze. “I will be here.”

He turned back to the screens. “Rest now. You have served well.”

Li Xiao bowed and left, her heart light despite her exhaustion. Outside, the palace walls glowed softly under the moon, each brick a silent witness to her journey from a humble maid to a trusted aide.

As she lay on her straw mat, the jade hairpin clutched in her hand, Li Xiao realized that her path in the palace was no longer defined by mere survival. With each day, each test, she carved her own place—alongside the man whose crimson gaze had once seemed impenetrable.

And she would continue, steadfast and unwavering, wherever this path might lead.