Chapter 10: Secrets Beneath Silk

The corridors of the eastern wing were still and cool as Li Xiao made her way to the archives. The early morning lanterns had just been extinguished, and a faint mist curled along the marble floors. Today’s task was a delicate one: Jin Tao had asked her to help catalog a recently unearthed collection of silk manuscripts from a hidden imperial vault. The manuscripts were rumored to contain personal letters exchanged between past emperors and their closest advisors—documents never meant for public eyes.

Li Xiao paused outside the vault’s carved door, smoothing her uniform and clutching her cataloging brush. Her heart fluttered at the responsibility, but she squared her shoulders and entered.

Inside, the vault was dimly lit by a single lantern suspended from the ceiling. Wooden chests and glass cases lined the walls, and in the center stood a large oak table. Jin Tao waited there, his crimson eyes reflecting the lantern’s glow. He held a scroll tied with a faded red ribbon.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his tone neutral but not unkind.

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

He placed the scroll on the table. “This is the first of the collection. Unbind it carefully. The silk is fragile.”

Li Xiao’s fingers trembled slightly as she untied the ribbon. The silk unrolled like water across the table: pale gold fabric covered in flowing calligraphy. She inhaled, the scent of aged silk and ink filling her senses.

As she read the first lines, she realized these were private letters from Emperor Zhen to his chief advisor, praising his loyalty and wisdom. The script was elegant, each stroke precise. Li Xiao’s admiration for the author—long deceased—grew with each line.

Jin Tao observed quietly. After a moment, he spoke softly: “Translate the gist of each letter into this ledger.” He handed her a blank parchment.

Li Xiao bowed and began her work. Each phrase required careful interpretation; some metaphors and archaic terms demanded discussion. When she encountered a particularly obscure reference, she looked to Jin Tao for guidance.

He would step beside her, his presence calm and reassuring. “Here, the phrase implies devotion beyond duty,” he would explain, pointing to the original script. Li Xiao nodded, scribbling the translation in neat characters.

Hours passed in this quiet collaboration. The lantern flickered, and the vault’s shadows shifted across the walls. Li Xiao’s back ached from kneeling, but she refused to pause until the scroll was fully translated.

At last, she set down her brush and rose. The translation lay before them in precise columns. Jin Tao examined her work, his expression unreadable.

“Well done,” he said finally. “Your understanding of the subtleties is impressive.”

Li Xiao’s chest swelled with pride. “Thank you, Counselor.”

He inclined his head. “Rest now. We will continue tomorrow.”

The next day, Li Xiao entered the vault to find a second scroll waiting. But before she could approach it, a soft gasp escaped her lips. The scroll was not silk but fine gauze, its fabric almost translucent. The letters were addressed from a princess to her forbidden love—a commoner—detailing secret meetings beneath the moonlit pavilions.

Li Xiao’s fingers hovered above the fabric. “Counselor, this… this is personal.”

Jin Tao nodded gravely. “It was never meant for the public. Handle it with discretion.”

She unrolled the gauze gently and began to read. The princess’s words were filled with longing and fear: she wrote of stolen kisses by the lotus pond, of nights spent whispering promises, and of her dread that the court would discover her secret.

As Li Xiao translated, her breath caught at the princess’s vulnerability. She paused, looking up at Jin Tao. “Should this be recorded?” she asked softly.

He studied her, then replied, “The truth of the past must be preserved, no matter how painful.”

Li Xiao nodded, and continued her work, each word deepening her empathy for the princess and her lover. The vault seemed to hold its breath as she labored.

By afternoon, Li Xiao’s stomach growled with hunger, but she pressed on. When she finally completed the translation, she knelt beside the table, exhausted but satisfied. Jin Tao entered, carrying a small wooden box.

“I brought tea,” he said, setting the box down. “And a simple meal.”

Li Xiao accepted a cup gratefully. The tea was fragrant with chrysanthemum, its warmth soothing her tired limbs. She nibbled on steamed buns filled with sweet bean paste.

“You have worked diligently,” Jin Tao observed. “Your compassion for these voices of the past is… admirable.”

She met his gaze, surprised by the note of approval in his tone. “I only wish to honor their stories.”

He nodded, then stepped closer, lowering his voice. “And what of your own story, Li Xiao? What do you wish to preserve for the future?”

Li Xiao’s breath caught. The question felt weighty under the lantern’s glow. She folded her hands in her lap, considering. “I… I wish to preserve the kindness shown to me,” she said softly. “And to repay it with loyalty and honesty.”

Jin Tao’s red eyes softened. He reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his gloved finger grazing her cheek. “You have done more than repay. You have enriched this palace with your heart.”

Her pulse fluttered. “Thank you, Counselor.”

He offered a rare, gentle smile before stepping back. “We will resume tomorrow. Rest well tonight.”

That evening, Li Xiao found herself unable to sleep. She rose and made her way to the courtyard, where lanterns glowed under the moonlit sky. The koi pond reflected the stars, and cherry blossoms drifted on the breeze.

She knelt by the water’s edge, her reflection wavering in the ripples. She thought of the princess’s forbidden love, the emperor’s devotion to his advisor, and her own journey from mountain village to imperial palace. Her life felt intertwined with theirs, threads woven into a tapestry of duty, sacrifice, and love.

A soft footstep made her look up. Jin Tao stood nearby, his figure outlined by lantern light.

“You’re awake,” he said quietly.

Li Xiao rose, curtsying. “I could not sleep.”

He approached and knelt beside her. “The vault’s secrets weigh on you.”

She nodded. “Their stories… they move me.” She paused, then added, “And your trust moves me even more.”

He regarded her in silence, then reached into his robe and produced a small silk handkerchief embroidered with a single lotus blossom.

“For your tears,” he said, offering it to her.

Li Xiao accepted it, her fingers brushing his. The handkerchief was soft and cool, the lotus embroidered in silver thread. She felt a warmth spread through her chest.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He stood and offered her his hand. “Walk with me.”

They strolled through the courtyard, the lanterns swaying overhead. Li Xiao tucked the handkerchief into her sash, her heart light despite the weight of the past.

As they walked, the palace walls stood silent witness to their footsteps—two souls bound by shared secrets, duty, and the gentle promise of something more.