Chapter 7: Echoes of the Past

Li Xiao returned to the counselor’s wing before dawn, the jade hairpin secured in her dark braid. The corridors were still hushed, lit by lanterns casting soft pools of light. She paused outside Jin Tao’s study, taking a moment to steady her thoughts. Her father’s health had improved, but the memory of his frailty lingered. She owed her return to him—and to the counselor who had granted her leave.

She entered quietly, setting down her bucket and cloths. Jin Tao stood by the balcony, gazing at the garden’s blossoming plum trees. His posture was relaxed, yet his eyes—those deep crimson pools—held their usual intensity.

“Good morning,” Li Xiao whispered.

He turned, nodding. “Morning. Today, we prepare the emperor’s summer robes for the upcoming festival. They are delicate silks—mothwing fine.”

Li Xiao’s eyes widened. Handling imperial garments was an honor and a grave responsibility. “I will be careful.”

He inclined his head. “See that you are.”

The storage chamber for the festival robes lay beyond a narrow hall lined with lacquered cabinets. Li Xiao and Jin Tao entered, and she felt a reverent hush descend. Inside, rows of wooden chests stood open, revealing bolts of silk in hues of gold, crimson, and jade green. Each fabric shimmered under the lantern light.

Li Xiao knelt beside a chest labeled “Summer Festival – Yellow Robe.” She reached in, lifting the silk with both hands. It felt like water running through her fingers—so light it seemed to float.

Jin Tao watched as she unrolled the fabric, inspecting for any flaws. “Ensure there are no snags or loose threads,” he instructed. “The emperor will wear this before the court.”

Li Xiao’s heart raced. She smoothed the silk across the table, her brush in hand. She ran her fingertips along the edge, her eyes scanning for imperfections. None appeared. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

As she worked, Jin Tao moved to the next chest. He unwrapped a crimson robe embroidered with silver clouds. His gloved hands traced the patterns with care, revealing a faint crease near the hem.

“Here,” he said, pointing. “Remove that crease.”

Li Xiao stood and joined him. She lifted the silk and placed it over a padded cushion. With a small iron heated by a nearby brazier, she pressed the fabric gently, smoothing out the wrinkle. The silk regained its flawless surface.

“Good,” Jin Tao said, voice approving. “Proceed.”

Hours passed as they cataloged and prepared each robe. Li Xiao’s arms ached from holding the silks, and her eyes stung from the fine dust that rose from the wooden chests. Yet each time she glanced at Jin Tao, she felt a surge of determination to prove her worth.

At midday, Sister Wu arrived with tea and rice cakes. She set the tray on a small side table and offered Li Xiao a cup. “Rest for a moment,” she said kindly.

Li Xiao accepted gratefully, taking a sip of the fragrant tea. The warmth spread through her, easing her fatigue.

Jin Tao joined them, accepting a rice cake. He took a bite, then offered the rest of the cake to Li Xiao. “Your efforts are appreciated,” he said.

Li Xiao’s cheeks warmed. “I only do what is needed.” She bit into the cake, savoring its sweetness.

Sister Wu smiled knowingly, then slipped away. Li Xiao watched her go, then looked to Jin Tao, whose red eyes held a rare softness.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He inclined his head, then rose. “We must finish before dusk. The robes must be delivered to the ceremonial hall.”

As afternoon light waned, Li Xiao and Jin Tao completed the final robe. Li Xiao carefully folded the emerald-green silk, placing it in a protective wrapping. She tied the silk with a silver cord, her fingers deft despite their weariness.

Jin Tao stepped forward. “Come with me.”

They exited the storage chamber and made their way through winding corridors to the ceremonial hall. The hall’s high ceilings were draped with red and gold banners; the marble floor gleamed under lantern light. At the far end stood a dais, where palace attendants awaited the robes.

Li Xiao and Jin Tao approached, and she knelt to present the wrapped silks. The lead attendant accepted them with a respectful bow. “The robes are flawless, Counselor. The emperor will be pleased.”

Li Xiao exhaled, relief flooding her. She rose and straightened her tunic, trying to mask her exhaustion.

Jin Tao met her gaze. “You performed admirably.”

She dipped her head. “Thank you, Counselor.”

That evening, Li Xiao returned to the servants’ quarters. The other maids gathered around, eager for news of the festival preparations.

“You handled imperial robes?” one whispered, her eyes wide.

Li Xiao nodded. “Yes. It was an honor.”

They murmured their admiration, but Li Xiao’s thoughts drifted to the moment in the storage chamber when Jin Tao offered her the rice cake. The simple act had warmed her more than the tea.

Later, as she lay on her cotton bedding, Li Xiao traced the jade hairpin in her hair. She remembered the gentle touch when he removed the fiber, the concern in his eyes when the sunlight bothered her, and now the quiet praise for her skill. Each gesture wove a thread between them—threads she could not ignore.

The next morning, Li Xiao found a sealed note resting on her bucket. The handwriting was unmistakably Jin Tao’s:

Meet me in the courtyard at dawn.

Her pulse quickened. She dressed swiftly and hurried to the courtyard before the first light of dawn. The stone floor was cool under her feet, and the air smelled of dew and jasmine.

She found Jin Tao standing by the koi pond, the water still and mirror-like. He held a small wooden box, its lid carved with a phoenix.

“Good morning,” he said, stepping forward.

“Good morning, Counselor,” Li Xiao replied, kneeling to set down her bucket.

He handed her the box. “Open it.”

Inside lay a length of fine silk thread—silver with a faint shimmer—and a slender needle. Li Xiao looked up in surprise.

“For the festival robes,” he explained. “A final stitch is needed to secure the emperor’s personal emblem. It requires a steady hand and discretion.”

She touched the thread. “I will do my best.”

He inclined his head. “I trust you.” Then he turned and walked away, leaving her alone by the koi pond.

Li Xiao opened the box fully and retrieved the thread and needle. She knelt by the water’s edge, holding the silver thread to the rising sun. It glowed softly, promising a new beginning—one woven from trust, skill, and the quiet bonds that formed between a maid and the man with the crimson gaze.