Chapter 12: Beneath the Mask

The morning mist clung to the marble corridors as Li Xiao made her way to Counselor Jin Tao’s chambers. Today’s task was to assist him in reviewing diplomatic correspondence from the Eastern Principalities—a duty requiring discretion and keen insight into court politics. She carried her writing implements and a stack of fresh parchment, determined to serve with her usual diligence.

As she approached the carved doors, she paused, smoothing the folds of her indigo tunic. The jade hairpin in her braid felt reassuringly cool against her neck. She took a steadying breath and entered.

Inside, Jin Tao sat at his desk, the soft glow of a single lantern illuminating his white hair and the sharp line of his jaw. His crimson eyes were fixed on a letter bearing the Eastern Principalities’ seal. He looked up as she knelt and bowed.

“Good morning,” Li Xiao said softly.

He inclined his head. “Morning. Please set the parchment and ink here.” He gestured to a low side table. “We begin with these three letters. Summarize their contents for me.”

Li Xiao set her tools in place and unrolled the first letter. Its script was ornate, each character flowing into the next. She read carefully, then penned a concise summary: a request for trade privileges and assurances of military support. She passed the parchment to Jin Tao, who scanned her summary with thoughtful eyes.

“Accurate,” he said, nodding. “Proceed.”

They worked side by side in silence, the only sounds the scratch of brush on paper and the faint rustle of silk as Jin Tao adjusted his robes. After the third letter, Jin Tao leaned back, folding his hands on the desk.

“Your work is impeccable,” he said. “But there is more to diplomacy than mere words on parchment. One must read between the lines.” He tapped the sealed envelopes. “Open these.”

Li Xiao’s fingers trembled as she untied the ribbons. Inside were reports of unrest in the border regions—rebellions fomented by disaffected nobles. Li Xiao’s breath caught. She met Jin Tao’s gaze.

“These reports… they indicate a threat to the southern trade routes,” she said, voice low.

He nodded gravely. “Yes. We must advise the emperor accordingly.”

She dipped her brush and began drafting a memo, her mind racing with the implications.

Midday light filtered through the window as they finished their work. Li Xiao’s stomach growled, but she waited patiently. Jin Tao rose and stretched, revealing the slender strength of his shoulders beneath his robe.

He offered her a small, almost shy smile. “You should eat. I will send for tea.”

Li Xiao blinked in surprise. “Counselor?”

He nodded. “You’ve worked without rest. Sit.” He gestured to a cushion by the window, where a simple tray of rice and steamed vegetables waited.

She hesitated, then sat and accepted the tray. As she ate, Jin Tao poured tea from a porcelain pot, his movements precise and gentle. He handed her a cup, and their fingers brushed—an electric moment that made Li Xiao’s heart flutter.

“Thank you,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

He inclined his head and sipped his tea. The room fell into comfortable silence, broken only by the distant murmur of palace life.

After a moment, Li Xiao set down her cup. “Counselor, may I ask… how do you bear the weight of such burdens?” Her question was tentative but sincere.

Jin Tao regarded her thoughtfully. He set his cup aside and stood, moving to the window. He gazed out at the palace gardens, where cherry blossoms drifted in the breeze.

“My burdens are many,” he said quietly. “But one learns to carry them behind a mask. The court demands strength, decisiveness, and—above all—impartiality.” He turned, and for the first time Li Xiao saw a flicker of vulnerability in his crimson eyes.

She rose and knelt beside him. “Even masks grow heavy. You need not bear them alone.”

He studied her, surprise in his gaze. “And who would stand beside me?”

She met his eyes, her voice steady. “I will. As your aide… and as your friend.”

For a long moment, Jin Tao said nothing. Then he bowed his head slightly. “Thank you, Li Xiao.”

A warmth spread through her chest at the simple gratitude in his tone.

That afternoon, Li Xiao found herself invited to the palace apothecary to gather rare herbs for the emperor’s physician. Sister Wu accompanied her, offering guidance as they selected ginseng, chrysanthemum petals, and fresh mint.

As Li Xiao measured the herbs, her thoughts drifted to the counselor’s confession. He carried his burdens behind a mask. She understood that all too well—her own fears and doubts had been hidden behind a calm facade since her arrival.

Sister Wu watched her quietly. “You have done well to comfort him,” the older maid said. “But remember, even the strongest shoulders need rest.”

Li Xiao nodded. “I will remember.”

That evening, Li Xiao returned to the counselor’s chambers with the herbs neatly bundled. She found Jin Tao seated at his desk, reviewing the diplomatic memo.

He looked up as she entered. “The herbs?”

She knelt and presented the bundle. “For the emperor’s physician, Counselor.”

He accepted them, then paused, regarding her with a gentle intensity. “You have grown more than I expected.”

Li Xiao bowed. “Only because of your guidance.”

He set the herbs aside and rose, closing the desk’s wooden doors. He approached her slowly, the lantern light casting long shadows.

“Li Xiao,” he said softly, “you have proven yourself loyal, capable, and compassionate. I…” He hesitated, searching her face. “I trust you more than anyone in the palace.”

Her breath caught. She met his crimson gaze, her heart pounding. “Thank you, Counselor.”

He reached out, placing a gloved hand on her shoulder. “Rest now. Tomorrow, we face the emperor.”

She inclined her head, her cheek brushing his hand. “Good night, Counselor.”

He watched her retreat to her quarters, the weight of his hand lingering on her shoulder—a silent promise of support and a bond that neither duty nor decorum could sever.

Outside, the palace walls stood bathed in moonlight, guardians of countless secrets. Within those walls, Li Xiao and Jin Tao had woven a fragile sanctuary—one built on trust, shared burdens, and the unspoken promise of something more.