Chapter 8: The Silver Thread

The courtyard was silent save for the soft rustle of lotus leaves and the distant croak of a lone frog. Dawn’s light painted the sky in pale hues of rose and gold. Li Xiao knelt by the koi pond, the wooden box of silver thread and needle resting beside her. Her heart fluttered as she recalled Counselor Jin Tao’s instructions: to embroider the emperor’s personal emblem onto the festival robe with utmost precision.

She retrieved the fine silk thread, its strands shimmering like moonlight on water. With careful fingers, she threaded the needle, her breath steady despite the weight of responsibility. This final stitch would bind the emperor’s symbol—a soaring phoenix—to the robe, a mark of authority and continuity. If she faltered, the ceremony could be compromised.

Li Xiao glanced at the robe draped over a nearby stone bench: a delicate sky-blue silk gown, its surface smooth as water. The phoenix design lay unstitched, outlined in pale ink. She picked up the edge of the fabric and smoothed it against her knee, then began to work.

Each stitch was deliberate. The silver thread caught the dawn light as she wove it through the silk, forming the phoenix’s slender neck. Her needle danced in and out, guided by her steady hand and her determination to honor both her duty and the counselor’s trust.

A soft step behind her made her pause. She looked up to see Jin Tao standing at the courtyard’s edge, his white hair glowing in the morning light. His crimson eyes observed her quietly, as if weighing each movement.

“Good morning,” she whispered, bowing her head.

He inclined his head in return. “You have the morning’s light on your side.” His voice was calm, almost gentle.

She met his gaze for a moment before returning her attention to the embroidery. “I will finish before the sun fully rises.”

He stepped closer, and she felt the air shift around her. “Take your time,” he said. “Precision is more important than speed.”

Li Xiao nodded and continued stitching. The world narrowed to the silk, the thread, and the steady rhythm of her breathing. With each pass of the needle, the phoenix’s form grew more defined: the curve of its wings, the arch of its tail feathers.

When she completed the final stitch, she held her breath and gently smoothed the fabric. The phoenix shimmered in silver against the blue silk, its wings poised as if ready to take flight.

Li Xiao rose and presented the robe to Jin Tao. His gaze traced the embroidery, lingering on the flawless work.

“Exquisite,” he said softly. “The emperor will be pleased.” He paused, then met her eyes. “Your skill has surpassed even my expectations.”

A warmth bloomed in her chest. “Thank you, Counselor.”

He inclined his head, then turned and walked back toward the study. Li Xiao followed, her heart still racing from the morning’s intimacy.

Inside the study, Jin Tao laid the robe across his desk. He examined it once more under the lantern light, running a gloved finger along the phoenix’s wing.

Li Xiao knelt by the desk, waiting for further instruction. The counselor’s expression was unreadable.

Finally, he spoke. “Tomorrow, the festival begins at noon. You will deliver the robe to the emperor’s dais. Remain nearby, in case any last‑minute adjustments are needed.”

Li Xiao bowed. “I understand.”

He regarded her for a long moment, then added, “You may rest now. You have earned it.”

She inclined her head and withdrew, her heart light despite her fatigue. Outside, the courtyard’s lanterns had been extinguished, and the first rays of sun streamed through the windows.

That afternoon, Li Xiao found a moment of quiet in the servants’ quarters. She sat on her cotton bedding, hands folded in her lap, replaying the morning’s events. The counselor’s praise still echoed in her mind. She lifted the jade hairpin and touched its smooth surface, feeling the weight of his trust and the path they had walked together.

Sister Wu entered quietly, carrying a small tray of tea and sweet rice balls. “For you,” she said, setting the tray beside Li Xiao.

“Thank you,” Li Xiao replied, accepting a rice ball. “Today was… significant.”

Sister Wu smiled. “You have come far since your first day. The counselor values your presence.”

Li Xiao nodded, sipping her tea. “I hope I can continue to serve well.”

Sister Wu placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Your dedication will not go unnoticed.” She rose and left, leaving Li Xiao to her thoughts.

Morning arrived swiftly. The palace was alive with activity: guards marched in formation, musicians tuned their instruments, and courtiers in silken robes drifted through the corridors. Li Xiao dressed in her finest maid’s uniform—a crisp white tunic with indigo trim—and pinned the jade hairpin securely in her hair.

She carried the folded robe in a lacquered box, her steps steady despite her nerves. The path to the ceremonial hall wound through the eastern wing’s marble corridors, each archway adorned with carved dragons and phoenixes.

At the hall’s entrance, she paused and inhaled deeply. The doors were open, revealing a vast chamber filled with rows of low benches. At the far end stood the emperor’s dais, draped in scarlet banners and gold tassels. Courtiers lined the hall, their eyes bright with anticipation.

Li Xiao approached the attendant in charge of the robes—a stern-faced woman whose gaze flicked to the lacquered box. “Counselor Jin Tao sent me,” Li Xiao said softly. “The emperor’s summer robe.”

The attendant nodded and gestured for Li Xiao to step aside. She opened the box, revealing the silk gown with its silver‑stitched phoenix. The attendant’s eyes widened in approval.

“Excellent work,” she said, turning to Li Xiao. “The emperor will wear this today.”

Li Xiao bowed. “Thank you.”

The attendant waved her off, and Li Xiao retreated to the side, her heart pounding. She watched as palace attendants carried the robe toward the dais. She caught sight of Jin Tao at the hall’s edge, his crimson eyes fixed on her. He offered a slight nod—a silent acknowledgment that sent warmth through her chest.

The ceremony began with the tolling of a great bronze bell. The emperor, resplendent in the blue robe embroidered with the silver phoenix, ascended the dais. The silk shimmered in the sunlight, the phoenix appearing to spread its wings as he moved.

Li Xiao watched from the shadows, her breath caught in her throat. The emperor’s gaze swept over the court, then lingered on the counselor. Jin Tao bowed deeply, his hand resting lightly on the emperor’s sleeve—a gesture of respect and loyalty.

A hush fell over the hall as the emperor raised his hands, declaring the festival open. Musicians struck up a melody on zithers and flutes, and dancers emerged to perform beneath hanging lanterns.

Li Xiao allowed herself a small smile. Her work had become part of something greater—a symbol of unity and tradition. She felt a quiet pride that eclipsed any fear or doubt.

After the ceremony, Li Xiao returned to the counselor’s wing. The corridors were quiet once more, and she found Jin Tao in his study, reviewing the festival’s reports.

He looked up as she entered. “The emperor was pleased,” he said. “He asked who prepared the robes.”

Li Xiao’s heart fluttered. “I… I did, Counselor.”

He regarded her for a moment, then stood. “Come.”

He led her to the balcony, where the late‑afternoon sun cast long shadows over the palace gardens. Cherry blossoms drifted on the breeze, and the air was warm with the promise of spring.

Li Xiao stood beside him, the world quiet except for the rustle of petals. She turned to him, her dark eyes meeting his crimson gaze.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For trusting me.”

He inclined his head. “You earned my trust.” His voice was low, earnest. “You have proven yourself in every trial.”

She felt tears prick at her eyes. “I… I only wish to serve honorably.”

He studied her, then reached into his robe and produced a small silk pouch. He handed it to her with deliberate care.

Li Xiao accepted it, her fingers brushing his. Inside lay a single silver needle, engraved with the counselor’s personal seal.

“For your work,” he said. “A tool for the one who stitches the emperor’s garments.”

She looked up at him, speechless. His crimson eyes held something warm—respect, perhaps something more.

Li Xiao bowed deeply. “Thank you, Counselor.”

He offered a rare, genuine smile. “Go. Enjoy the festival’s evening. You deserve it.”

As she turned to leave, Li Xiao felt a surge of emotion—gratitude, pride, and something tender that she had not fully named. The palace walls seemed to hum with possibility, and she knew that, under the counselor’s wing, her own story was only beginning to unfold.