Held in the Lonely Castle Chapter 06

 

 Held in the Lonely Castle  

 Chapter 06

Translated by : DANMEI HEAVEN

Qiuhe

Life in the Painting Academy resumed uneventfully. Days passed with no further news from the inner palace. Curious, I asked a childhood friend who had been transferred to the Inner Bureau. He told me the Emperor’s health was improving. Touched by Princess Fukang’s selfless prayers, His Majesty had grown even fonder of her. Consort Zhang, though bold in public, knew better than to cross the Emperor. With Youwon’s condition improving, she temporarily dropped the witchcraft accusation.

On the day Cui Bai left the academy, I accompanied him to the palace gates. Before parting, he handed me a scroll. “Would you deliver this Lotus and Guests in Autumn to a friend of mine?”

I agreed without hesitation, only later realizing—Cui Bai had another friend in the palace?

Unrolling it, I saw a tranquil autumn pond, lotuses half-wilted, a few wagtail birds flitting among the reeds, while a pair of wild geese circled above. The scene was alive with delicate, understated beauty.

“Who is it for?” I asked.

He smiled. “Last year, His Majesty ordered the academy to paint a royal recreation scene. The draft displeased him—‘The architecture is fine, but the court ladies’ attire is outdated.’ So the Office of Adornments sent maids to demonstrate current fashions. Two maids worked together, one styling the other’s hair. Among them was a girl of twelve or thirteen—lovely, but weeping as she worked. When I asked why, she said, ‘My pet sparrow died this morning.’ Her voice was so soft, so pitiful. I promised her a bird that would never die and painted a wagtail for her the next day. She was overjoyed, her cheeks flushing pink, her nose dusted with the faintest blush—like autumn lotus at dawn. I teased her, ‘What rouge is this? What style?’ She shyly refused to answer. I didn’t press, only asked her to keep the look so I could paint her. For days, she complied—until she fell ill.”

I nodded. “The Office of Adornments oversees cosmetics. Experimenting with new styles is part of their duties.”

Cui Bai sighed. “But her blush wasn’t makeup. Her skin was naturally fair but overly sensitive. That day, Consort Miao had gifted her a pomegranate. Though it aggravated her constitution, she ate it out of politeness, hence the flush. The following days, she deliberately ate heating foods to maintain the look—until she made herself sick. I never saw her again. This painting is my apology.”

“What’s her name?”

“Dong. The others called her Qiuhe.”

I promised to deliver it. Jokingly, I added, “When you took out the scroll, I thought it was for me.”

Cui Bai laughed. “How could I forget you? I meant to pick a worthy piece, but none seemed fit. I’ll paint you a proper one someday.”

After he left, I went to the Office of Adornments, but Dong Qiuhe wasn’t there. Located near the Inner Bureau in the palace’s northeast, the office wasn’t far, but my subsequent visits also proved fruitless. The other maids said Dong’s skills were highly sought after by the consorts, often keeping her out until dusk.

Delivering a scroll from an outsider to a palace maid after dark was improper, so the matter was temporarily shelved.

One evening, returning to my quarters after work, I encountered a young eunuch hunched in pain by the Tongye Gate. Clutching an ornate box, he gasped, “Stomach cramps... must be dysentery.”

When I offered to take him to the physicians, he shook his head. “The new imperial lecturer Sima Guang is awaiting His Majesty’s gift in the Ruiying Pavilion. I was delayed at the Voucher Office—I only just retrieved this glass cup from the treasury. His Majesty has returned to the Funing Hall, but Sima Guang is still waiting... Could you deliver it for me? The physicians are nearby—I’ll go myself.”

Reluctantly, I agreed.

In the pavilion, a gaunt, stern-faced man in his late twenties sat waiting. His piercing gaze fixed on me as I entered.

I tentatively addressed him as “Master Sima.” At his nod, I presented the box.

He bowed toward the Funing Hall in gratitude before opening it—and froze.

Inside lay a shattered glass cup.

My mind blanked. Not me—I never dropped it! But I hadn’t even asked the eunuch’s name. There was no proving the cup had been broken before I took it.

The pavilion doors burst open. Eunuchs swarmed in, followed by Ren Shouzhong, Deputy Chief of the Inner Bureau.

Ren circled me like a vulture. “Breaking His Majesty’s gifts... The penalty is at the recipient’s discretion.”

I knelt, numb. The familiar dread of childhood—locked in the dark, awaiting death—returned.

Then Sima Guang spoke.

“Release him.”

Ren started. “What?”

“Release him.” Sima’s voice was calm but unyielding. “A trinket is not worth a life. This young eunuch broke the cup by accident—no grave offense.”

Ren scowled. “But His Majesty—”

“If His Majesty asks, tell him: ‘Jade cups untouched, rites preserved as of old; colored clouds disperse easily—forgive this man his error.’”

Though Sima Guang held a lowly eighth-rank post, his quiet authority brooked no argument. Ren eventually backed down.

Alone with Sima Guang, I kowtowed tearfully. “Your mercy will never be forgotten.”

He helped me up. “Just be more careful in the future.”

Then he paused. “Huai Ji... Are you the Liang Huai Ji from the Calligraphy Bureau?”

I confirmed, surprised. “You know of me?”

“Scholar Sun Fu mentioned you.” His expression softened.

Two winters ago, while transcribing memorials for the archives, I had corrected Sun Fu’s misquotation of a Tang dynasty official’s advice to Emperor Gaozong. Instead of chastising me, Sun had praised my diligence, spreading word of my keen eye.

“You’ve read the Old Book of Tang?” Sima Guang asked approvingly.

I hesitated, then admitted, “When Chancellor Jia Changchao lectured the eunuchs on the classics, I attended and borrowed books mentioned in the memorials...”

A shadow crossed Sima’s face. The lectures had been controversial—some feared educated eunuchs would meddle in politics. After a moment, he said, “Too much reading is unnecessary. A eunuch’s duty is to serve. Knowing a few characters suffices.”

I nodded.

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

He sighed. “A pity.”

I understood. Were I not a eunuch, he might have encouraged me to study and serve the state. But my fate was sealed the moment I entered the palace.

Ren Shouzhong must have reported the incident, but no punishment came beyond a three-month salary deduction—a trivial loss, as I had no use for money. Staring at my savings, I often felt hollow: I had nothing but coins.

When I told my friend Zhang Chengzhao about the incident, he gasped. “Thank heaven it was Sima Guang—the man who famously saved a drowning child by smashing a vat! Had it been someone like Wu Yu, you’d be flayed alive.” Then he frowned. “Wait—Ren Shouzhong just happened to show up the moment the cup was discovered?”

I nodded, sensing something amiss.

“No coincidence! He set you up.” Zhang eyed me. “Who have you offended?”

Only Consort Zhang came to mind.

When I recounted the princess incident, Zhang paled. “You humiliated Consort Zhang and compared her to Empress Zhao? Everyone knows she holds grudges!”

“I couldn’t let her frame the princess.”

Zhang sighed. “The princess is His Majesty’s favorite. Even if she had cursed Consort Zhang, do you think His Majesty would punish her? When nobles feud, it’s always the underlings who suffer. You should’ve kept quiet.”

I accepted his rebuke silently. “I didn’t think.”

Zhang shook his head. “No wonder you keep getting demoted.”

Yet a month later, I was transferred to the Bureau of Military Affairs—a promotion.

Later, I learned Sima Guang had recommended me to Vice Military Commissioner Pang Ji, praising my meticulousness with documents.

My gratitude toward Sima Guang deepened, enduring even years later when he condemned me before the Emperor, branding me “a criminal deserving death.”

(To be continued)

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