Chapter 11: Shadows and Sanctuary

Dawn’s pale light filtered through the lattice windows of the eastern wing, painting the corridor in muted gold. Li Xiao paused outside her small quarters, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear and adjusting the jade hairpin. The silk handkerchief—embroidered with a silver lotus—rested in her sash, a reminder of last night’s quiet exchange with Jin Tao.

She stepped into the hallway, her bucket and cloths in hand. As she passed the alcove outside the counselor’s study, she froze at the sound of hushed voices.

“I heard he’s granting her more privileges,” whispered Xiao Lan, her tone laced with scorn. “Tomorrow, she’ll be allowed to dine in his private chambers.”

Mei Feng laughed softly. “A mere village girl dining with a court counselor—what will the palace say next?”

Li Xiao’s chest tightened. She pressed her back against the wall, heart pounding. She had faced their taunts before, but today something in their tone felt sharper, more personal. She clenched her fists, determined not to give them the satisfaction of seeing her hurt.

Taking a steadying breath, she stepped into the alcove. “Good morning,” she said, her voice calm.

Xiao Lan and Mei Feng turned, their smiles freezing. Mei Feng’s eyes narrowed. “Good morning,” she replied, her tone icy. “Are you here for more special treatment, Li Xiao?”

Li Xiao bowed her head respectfully. “I serve Counselor Jin Tao as he commands. I wish no ill will upon anyone.”

Xiao Lan’s laughter echoed off the stone. “Spare us the humility. You know as well as we do that your place is among the common staff—not dining with him.”

Li Xiao’s pulse quickened, but she refused to waver. “I only perform my duties.”

Before the tension could escalate, the carved doors of the counselor’s study swung open. Jin Tao emerged, his crimson eyes cool and commanding. The two maids curtseyed hastily, their mockery silenced.

“Li Xiao,” he said, voice low but carrying authority. “Meet me in the private dining chamber at midday. You are relieved of your morning duties.”

Li Xiao’s heart stuttered. She bowed deeply. “Yes, Counselor.”

Xiao Lan and Mei Feng exchanged glances of outrage as Li Xiao slipped past them. The corridor felt suddenly empty, and Li Xiao’s cheeks burned—not with shame, but with pride that the counselor had intervened on her behalf.

The private dining chamber lay beyond a series of doors guarded by silent eunuchs. At midday, Li Xiao arrived to find a simple table set with a steaming bowl of rice porridge, pickled vegetables, and fragrant tea. The chamber’s windows overlooked a secluded courtyard where camellias bloomed.

Jin Tao stood by the window, gazing at the blossoms. He turned as she entered and offered a curt nod.

“Please sit,” he said, gesturing to a cushion opposite him.

Li Xiao knelt and bowed before taking her place. She waited for him to begin, her heart fluttering at the intimacy of the setting.

He sat, then poured two bowls of porridge. He slid one toward her. “Eat,” he commanded softly.

Li Xiao lifted the bowl with both hands. “Thank you.” She tasted the porridge, its warmth spreading through her chest. The pickled vegetables added a tangy contrast, and the tea soothed her throat.

They ate in silence for several moments, the only sound the clink of porcelain and the distant chirp of sparrows. Finally, Jin Tao set down his bowl and looked at her.

“Xiao Lan and Mei Feng have complained of your privileges,” he said quietly. “Is this true?”

Li Xiao’s heart sank. “They have said so, Counselor, but I have not dined here before.”

He studied her face. “I granted you leave and allowed you to accompany me, but you have not eaten in this chamber until today.”

She met his gaze. “Yes, Counselor.”

He inclined his head. “Then their words are false. I will not tolerate their slander.” He paused, and Li Xiao felt the weight of his stare. “Know that I value your service and your discretion.”

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

He nodded once, then returned to his porridge. Li Xiao ate more confidently, feeling a new sense of belonging.

After the meal, Jin Tao stood and motioned for her to follow. They left the chamber and walked through the quiet corridors to the library annex. There, he selected a thick leather-bound volume: a collection of court etiquette and protocol.

“I wish you to study this,” he said, handing her the book. “You will accompany me at tomorrow’s audience with the emperor. You must understand the proper forms.”

Li Xiao accepted the book with reverence. “Yes, Counselor.”

He paused in the corridor, turning to face her. “Your place at my side is earned by merit, not by rumor. Let them learn that truth.”

She bowed deeply. “I will not fail you.”

He inclined his head, then continued on to his study. Li Xiao opened the volume and began to read, her determination shining brighter than any lantern.

That evening, Li Xiao practiced the formal bows and greetings in her quarters. She memorized each step: the depth of the bow, the placement of the hands, the cadence of the greeting. The silk handkerchief lay beside her, a reminder of the trust she had earned.

As she practiced, she heard a soft knock at the door. She opened it to find Sister Wu standing there, concern in her eyes.

“Child, the counselor asked after you,” Sister Wu said gently. “He wonders if you need assistance.”

Li Xiao shook her head. “I am fine, Sister Wu. I must prepare for the audience.”

The older maid smiled. “He cares for you more than you realize. Trust in that.”

Li Xiao nodded, gratitude in her gaze. Sister Wu left, and Li Xiao returned to her practice, her movements growing more fluid with each repetition.

The next morning, Li Xiao accompanied Jin Tao to the imperial audience chamber. She carried the leather-bound volume under her arm, her uniform pristine. The grand hall was alive with courtiers and officials, their robes a sea of color and silk.

Jin Tao led the way, and Li Xiao followed at his side. They approached the emperor, who sat on his gilded throne beneath a canopy of red silk. The chamber fell silent as Jin Tao knelt and performed the prescribed bow.

Li Xiao watched closely, noting the depth of his kneel, the angle of his head, and the placement of his hands. When it was her turn, she knelt beside him, replicating his movements with precision. The emperor’s gaze flicked to her, and she held her bow, her heart racing.

After a moment, the emperor inclined his head and addressed Jin Tao on matters of state. Li Xiao remained kneeling, listening to the discussion and making mental notes for later transcription.

When the audience concluded, Jin Tao rose and offered a final bow. Li Xiao rose with him, her knees aching but her spirit proud.

As they departed, Jin Tao’s voice reached her ears: “Well done.”

She glanced at him, and his crimson eyes held a hint of approval. A small smile curved her lips as they walked back through the marble corridors—two figures united by duty, trust, and the promise of something more.

That evening, Li Xiao returned to her quarters, her body tired but her heart alight. She knelt before the shrine of the Goddess of Mercy, offering a silent prayer of thanks for the counselor’s guidance and protection.

Outside, the palace walls stood tall and silent under the moonlit sky. Within those walls, Li Xiao’s journey continued—each trial forging her strength, each act of kindness weaving her closer to the man with the crimson gaze.