Chapter Text
The fragrance of lotus petals clung faintly to the air of the inner chambers, soft and perfumed, the kind of scent that lingers in silk long after the flowers have been cleared away.
The newly appointed lady-in-waiting knelt just inside the sliding doors, head bowed, posture straight.
Her name was Chuyu.
Even in stillness, she drew attention. Her skin held the warmth of desert sun, her hair dark and tightly curled, coiled like ink strokes in motion. Her expression, though calm, carried an unintentional sharpness, a gaze that seemed to scowl when it was only thinking.
The other ladies glanced at one another.
Guiyuan, the soft-spoken one, smiled first.
“Welcome, Chuyu. You’ve come a long way. Are you tired?”
The taller woman looked up, startled by the friendliness. “...No,” she said simply. Her voice even, careful. It was odd being in a new place again.
Ailan nudged Guiyuan gently, eyes curious. “You’re from the western provinces?” she asked, leaning forward, tone light. “Your eyes are quite striking.”
Chuyu blinked. “Oh. Thank you,” she said after a beat. “Yours too.”
It wasn’t meant as flattery -just truth. But Ailan, unused to bluntness, laughed awkwardly.
She raised a brow. She hadn't said anything funny? The woman before her did have striking eyes. Their deep blue colour, as if the Ocean herself were staring back at her, had caught her attention the moment she had raised her head and met het gaze.
Yinghua, the youngest and most spirited, grinned. She playfully elbowed her fellow lady-in-waiting, recniin
“Don’t mind Ailan, she always starts with compliments.”
From across the room, Hongniang, the head lady-in-waiting, was observing quietly. Her sharp eyes softened slightly as she saw Chuyu’s stiff form.
“Let her settle in. You can chatter later,” she said.
Chuyu watched as they each left to return back to their duties, something she was quietly grateful. They sure were a lively bunch. At least, to her they were.
The group dispersed, but the quiet one with the kind eyes - Guiyuan, was it? - She made a mental note to listen carefully the next time their names were said.
Meanwhile the shorter woman gently explained what her duties were and what was expected of her as she showed her around. Where she could find necessities such as cleaning supplies, where her room was.
The day went by in a blur. Her fellow ladies-in-waitings were kind and helpful -If a little intimadating, Hongniang especially.
She couldn't deny that the way they served their lady was undeniably impressive. Only four of them including the apothecary she sometimes saw passing by. They worked hard, undeniably admirable in their loyalty. However, a good looking eunch always seemed to be accompanying her or asking for her, for some reason? Honestly, Maomao was almost constantly busy from what she'd seen, going from one noble to another.
When she asked Ailan, she had just giggled, something about the girl being a favourite stray among the inner palace.
Eventually she found herself in a room. Her room.
She smiled, a small tired thing, and leaned back into her bed. Just a little while longer, she reassured herself, she'd get used to this too, she'll adjust.
______
The first few days passed uneventfully, at least, outwardly.
Chuyu worked hard, silently. She folded linens with precision and fetched tea before it was asked for. She wanted to work just as well as them.
If there was one thing she had understood the little time she'd been here. Then it was that taking care of and serving Lady Gyokuyou, Princess Lingli and the baby Crown Prince -that they are to be her upmost priority.
But rumors travel quickly among kind women.
One morning, Guiyuan spoke up, brushing past Yinghua as she swept the floor. Her voice, a conspirational whisper.
“She’s not cold, you know. I saw her place wildflowers in a jar by her window.”
“Wildflowers?” Ailan perked up. “We’re not allowed to pick from the imperial gardens!”
Chuyu, who’d just entered the room carrying folded robes, froze mid-step. “Oh. Is it forbidden?”
Three sets of eyes turned toward her.
“Well… technically,” Yinghua admitted, grinning, “but it’s not serious unless you take too many.” She reassured.
Chuyu’s brows furrowed. “I only took two. I thought they were pretty.”
She picked them because the chambers felt empty.
But she didn’t know how to say that.
For a moment, silence, and then Ailan burst out laughing. “You’re strange, Chuyu.”
Chuyu tilted her head slightly, considering that. “Probably.”
Even Hongniang’s voice, usually firm, softened at that, muffling the chuckle that threatened to escape.
“As long as you don’t strip the gardens bare, child. I think Lady Gyokuyou will forgive a few stems.”
---
That evening, when Gyokuyou passed by Chuyu’s quarters on her way to the nursery, she paused at the open doorway.
Inside, a single clay jar held a pair of pale blossoms, set neatly beside a polished river stone. The room was sparse, but peaceful, a small pocket of calm in a palace full of performance.
Gyokuyou lingered just a moment, unseen, and something quiet warmed in her chest.
How curious.
---
The next morning, when she sat for tea, she noticed Chuyu waiting by the screen as usual.
“Chuyu,” she said softly.
“Yes, My Lady?”
“You may keep your flowers.”
Chuyu blinked, uncertain. “...Oh. Thank you.”
Gyokuyou’s lips curved slightly.
A pause, comfortable silence passed between them.
Then, for the first time, Chuyu smiled. A small, real thing.
______________________
The inner chambers were quieter than usual.
Late afternoon light painted the lacquered screens gold, the air humming with that particular calm that only existed between court duties.
Yinghua sat by the window, mending a hem she’d torn earlier that day. Ailan was beside her, idly twirling an ink brush while pretending not to eavesdrop on Hongniang’s soft scolding of Guiyuan.
“You stitched this unevenly again,” Hongniang sighed, exasperated but fond.
Guiyuan pouted. “You always notice everything, Hongniang.”
“Because you never do it straight.”
A small ripple of laughter passed through the room, light, familiar.
Chuyu entered quietly, carrying a tray of tea cups. She set them down between them, movements precise, silent. But her hair was slightly disheveled, as if she’d hurried.
“You were supposed to rest after tending the nursery,” Hongniang said without looking up.
“I did,” Chuyu answered calmly, though her faintly flushed cheeks betrayed her.
Ailan grinned, not hesitating to call her out.
“She means she sat for five minutes and then remembered the tea wasn’t ready.”
Chuyu paused, blinking. “Oh. Was I supposed to wait longer?”
Guiyuan stifled a giggle. “You’re always so serious about everything, Chuyu.”
“I am?” Chuyu said simply, head tilting.
Yinghua rolled her eyes affectionately. “You don’t even notice how tense you get. Look -” she mimed Chuyu’s stiff back, exaggeratedly straight.
The whole room erupted into laughter.
Chuyu’s brows lowered, and for a split second she looked genuinely confused. Then the faintest twitch of a smile curved her lips, an gentle warmth blooming in her chest.
“You all laugh too easily.”
“Only when we like someone,” Ailan teased.
That earned her an actual grin. It was small, crooked, but unmistakably Chuyu.
---
Later that evening, Gyokuyou sat before her mirror as the lanterns were lit. The flicker softened the sharp line of her jaw, glinting off her hairpins.
Chuyu brushed her hair in slow, even strokes -quiet, rhythmic.
“You’ve grown comfortable here,” Gyokuyou said suddenly, watching her reflection.
Chuyu hesitated mid-brush. “Have I?”
“You’ve started to forget to bow when I enter.”
That made Chuyu’s eyes widen in the mirror. “I—”
Gyokuyou’s mouth curved faintly. “It’s fine. It’s… nice.”