Nothing changed. Everything changed.

I was still the forgotten concubine, never catching a glimpse of the Emperor, eating mild food, drinking nothing more indulgent than bitter tea, advised to stay in bed.

However, the Empress Dowager’s visits became regular, once a week at first, then as often as every other day. She would simply listen to my playing at first, nothing said, but she brought not-so-bitter teas and sweet snacks with her, leaving behind what was left over.

Then eventually she learned of my painting, one left in sight on a visit. Although she never took any back, I kept what I’d made since her last visit on display for her, a silent exhibit for her to view.

And like with my playing, it became so much easier to paint knowing she would see it. If anything, it was a game to me, wanting to paint something that forced her to speak more than the polite greeting we shared. So I painted nonsense, painted extravagant, and even painted the obscene—not too obviously, but, with how much she inspected them, I felt confident she would notice.

If she ever did, she didn’t show it, her face always the picture of elegance and grace, looking so young for a mother, yet too mature to not be.

The only person outside of my little palace’s bubble that I ever saw, I naturally thought of her often. She bled into my paintings, came to mind in my idle moments, my music dull without her around and her teas not as sweet without her company. So it was only natural that my heart swelled whenever she arrived, only natural to feel restless whenever she left.

Yes, rather than the memory of a memory of a silhouette, I thought of her when I touched myself. Unsure why, not daring to think of it too much.

Closing my eyes, I saw her thin lips quirked into a smirk, her eyes full of mirth, long, slender fingers wrapped around her tea cup. I heard her voice tell me to think of her and touch myself, heard her tell me I couldn’t cum yet, how pretty I looked with tears in my eyes and, when I couldn’t take it any more, I heard her say, “Mistress orders my Shu to cum for me.”

And just like every time I’d imagined that before, my breath left, shuddering in bliss. So soft and gentle, more relief than release as if she lowered me into bed rather than leaving me to collapse. Oh it still felt so incredible, giggly pleasure rushing through me, but it didn’t have the desperation of chasing the silhouette, of pushing myself to the point of breaking, instead bending as far as I could go without breaking, then eased back to how I started.

However—I raised my glistening fingers—it left just as much to be cleaned up afterwards.

These sessions slower and longer than my old ones, I slept at a late hour, every intention to sleep in late. Of course, the best intentions often came undone.

A pounding on the door woke me from a pleasant dream, barely able to keep hold of a thread, a glimpse of the Empress Dowager patting my head. Though frustrated at the threads that had slipped through my grasp, I knew that, to be woken up early, something had happened.

“Enter,” I loudly said, yawning as I sat up.

Xiao Mei burst into the room, shutting the door behind her. Face pale and breaths deep, I didn’t have time to even ask before she had rushed to my side, whispering, “It is His Majesty, he is coming and—”

The door swung open.

I touched the back of her hand, silencing her. With a smile, I met her gaze and then subtly pushed her, getting her to move away—the farther the better, but she only went to hide in the room’s corner.

He strode in as if he owned the place. Well, he did own it. Anyway, he came in and looked at me, his polite smile matched with dead eyes.

“Did this one not warn his concubine of speaking freely?” he asked.

I nodded and said nothing.

He let out a breathless laugh, his expression unchanging. “Very good, a dog who only barks when master isn’t home,” he said, quieter, yet still loud enough that Xiao Mei surely heard.

Again, I said nothing, just held a polite smile.

He stepped forward, my chin aching in memory of the last time. At least for now, though, he didn’t squeeze it. “I said nothing when Empress Dowager came here to visit. I said nothing when those visits became more frequent. I said nothing when asked to give you servant the title of Shu Consort. Yet now, Empress Dowager says her palace is better suited to recuperation.”

Not particularly trying to hide my reaction, my surprise surely showed—and perhaps that saved me from death because he let out a more natural laugh.

“You servant did not know?” he asked.

I did not answer, not even daring to shake my head, only staring back.

“I see,” he muttered, turning away as he began to pace back and forth across the room.

However, that brought his gaze to Xiao Mei. I knew the moment their eyes met, his step pausing, her body stiffening up.

“Your Majesty, this servant shall of course obey. If the zithers are to be burned and the brushes snapped, then naturally it shall be done,” I said, bowing my head.

His footsteps continued, shoes coming into my down-looking sight. Before I could brace myself, his fingers held my chin, not yet painful, but the threat was there, forcing me to look up at him.

“Naturally, it would be done,” he whispered.

No matter how long he stared me down, I didn’t look away. Oh I was terrified, heart shrunk to the point blood could barely pass through, yet my pulse surged, urging me to panic, thoughts scattering as soon as they appeared.

There was no honour in the face of death. There was no bravery, no pride. I simply faced him because there was no pleasing someone who didn’t want to be pleased.

Seconds became a minute, only then the silence ending. Letting go of my chin, he said, “This one is, above all, filial, so it pleases this one that Shu Consort wishes to also be filial.”

He strode to the door.

“Speak whatever truths you wish, knowing that, once Empress Dowager bores of you, that shall be your end. Regardless of what you tell Empress Dowager, neither would she advise this one on who he beds nor would this one obey. That palace shall be your tomb.”

With that said, he left.

By evening, my dowry and I had entered the Empress Dowager’s palace, taking over what had, for previous Empress Dowagers, been a small temple. Perhaps all the moving had brushed loose old incense, the place thick with a stale smell. As an ascetic place, it had thin walls, at least the floors made of wood and not stone, but still cold before nightfall; there wasn’t even a fireplace, open flames a risk to the wooden building.

“His Majesty is too cruel,” Xiao Mei mumbled.

Even though she only dared say that because we were alone, I gave the back of her head a light slap. “Do not ever say something you do not wish His Majesty to hear.”

This time, she had the sense to grumble inaudibly.

“Although cold, do we not have clothes?” I said, patting her head.

As always, she calmed down from that.

Perhaps planned—after all, his plans were unfathomable—the Empress Dowager wasn’t there that evening, so I only greeted her the next morning. Well, she looked as surprised to see me as I had been surprised to hear she had asked for me to stay at her palace.

“Your servant hopes to recuperate soon, that she doesn’t infringe on Mistress Empress Dowager’s hospitality,” I said, bowing as low as I could while in bed.

“Shu Consort need not worry, to rush such a thing no different to culling a hen who still lays eggs.”

I bowed again. “Mistress Empress Dowager is correct, this servant is grateful for the wisdom.”

At first, there was little difference between now and before, going about my day as I had, sometimes with the Empress Dowager’s company and sometimes not. The food was at least not so plain, albeit my meals still mostly porridges and soups.

However, she gradually grew more talkative, her greetings now including, “How did you sleep?” or, “Did you have enough to eat?” Then she began asking for the names of the songs I performed and, after I told her I didn’t know, she asked that I give them names that she may ask for them again when I recovered; my artworks also apparently needed naming, and she would ask to take one every week or so.

The questions were never personal, never from me. She asked and I answered.

Really, it was lovely. Just lovely. An older woman showing interest in my hobbies, making sure I was comfortable—like the mother I never had, the parent I’d never known I wished I had.

Yet… I never dared call her mother. Oh she mentioned now and then, saying, “If Mistress Aunty is too much, mother is fine.”

I couldn’t. I couldn’t say why, but I just couldn’t call her that. Even as her requests became almost as if pleading.

“Really, with how much time we have spent together, you should call me mother.”

As casual as our speech had become around each other, as much as I loved her company, wanted to be closer to her—that wasn’t the closeness I wanted.

The warm spring breeze sighed, pitter-patter of the maids footsteps drifting through the covered windows, both so near and so distant, the Empress Dowager and I alone in my room. So close I could see the thin wrinkles by the corners of her mouth and eyes, a few grey hairs like silver amongst her black bun, yet too far to touch if I reached out.

What distance did I want between us?

“Aunty, did you want to come to the harem?” I asked, the first real question I’d ever asked her, breaking that taboo.

She didn’t flinch, but her sweet smile blended with bitter, gaze drifting away from mine. “I did not,” she whispered. Some things couldn’t be said, but they could be whispered.

“Nor did I, but I suppose that much is obvious,” I whispered, ending on an empty laugh.

For a moment, she looked fine, then she broke, her grace and elegance replaced by a woman on the verge of tears. “I only spent the first night with the Late Emperor and ended up with child. Everyone told me how blessed I must be to give birth to a son, that the Heavens recognised me as the new Empress.

“However, I only came to see my son as evil. I, I knew I was supposed to love him, but I couldn’t. I told myself not to hate him because of his father. If I knew… I would have killed him. No matter how I tried, his cruelty only grew, excused by the Late Emperor and everyone else. That it was natural for a young boy to be curious, good for him not to be squeamish, that it was only a cat… later, that it was only a maid.”

Finally, she broke, tears streaming down her face and voice wavering.

“I wish I had trusted myself and strangled him. How much suffering I could have spared so many for only the cost of my life,” she whispered.

How close I wanted to be, I now knew, stepping out of bed to hold her hands. Oh she squeezed my hands tight, so very tight… but there was no pain. Not from her grip. My heart ached in sympathy, urged me closer still.

“You know my name is Lian, tell me, what is yours?” I whispered.

“Hua.”

I smiled and brought up a hand to wipe her tears, gently stroking her cheeks as I did. “Lotus and Flower, how wonderful our names are together,” I said.

Before she could reply, I kissed her.