Emma passed the palace regulations assessment with astonishing speed and near-perfect execution. Even the notoriously strict Nanny Yan, during the final evaluation, offered only a faint "Passable." Yet the fleeting spark of admiration in her eyes did not escape Emma's notice.
She returned to Zhilan Pavilion, back to Gu Liang's side.
Gu Liang practically threw himself at her, clinging tightly as if she were a lost treasure returned. He chattered incessantly about how much he'd missed her these past days, complaining about the palace's excessive rules, the food being too refined for his taste, and how the maids and palace ladies, though respectful, always felt distant.
"Sister Emma, you're finally back! Without you, I couldn't sleep soundly at night," Gu Liang murmured, burying his face in Emma's shoulder.
Then, as if remembering something, she lifted her face and addressed the surrounding palace attendants with a hint of unquestionable petulance: "You may all withdraw. Sister Emma is all I need here."
After the attendants withdrew as instructed, Gu Liang sighed contentedly, burying her face in Emma's shoulder again. She murmured softly, "This is better. No matter how kind they are, they're not you. Sister Emma, you'll always be mine alone, won't you?"
The words carried utter dependence, yet also functioned as a silent command, drawing a boundary.
Emma's hand, gently patting her back, paused for an almost imperceptible moment. Then, she resumed the somewhat unfamiliar motion, as if the brief hesitation had never occurred.
Emma could sense that although Gu Liang depended on her, the aura surrounding her had changed. The imperial granddaughter, now dressed in brocade and silk, adorned with jeweled ornaments, and carefully attended by palace attendants, was a world apart from the frail little maid in the back courtyard of the Su residence.
"Princess, I've returned." Emma's voice was calm and unruffled, tinged with just the right measure of respect.
Gu Liang lifted her head, pouting slightly in displeasure. "Sister Emma, please don't call me Princess. Just call me Liang'er like before."
Aima took a half-step back, bowing her head. "Propriety must not be disregarded. With so many ears and eyes in the palace, we cannot give others cause for gossip."
Gu Liang watched her distant demeanor, her eyes reddening slightly. Yet, meeting Emma's unwaveringly calm gaze, she finally sighed with a pout, "Oh."
After resuming her duties at Gu Liang's side, Emma soon discovered the situation was far more complex than she had anticipated. Zhilan Pavilion appeared serene on the surface, yet turbulent currents swirled beneath. Emperor Gu Heng placed immense importance on this long-lost granddaughter, showering her with gifts like flowing water. Hanlin scholars tasked with educating imperial princes and grandsons began daily lessons. Gu Liang was propelled forward, rapidly learning everything required of an imperial heir—classics, histories, philosophies, imperial tactics, and ceremonial protocols.
Her days became relentlessly busy. She rose before dawn to wash and dress, paying respects to the Emperor and Empress, then endured a full day of lessons until night fell. Time with Emma dwindled drastically; they could only exchange hurried words during meals or before sleep.
Moreover, Emma was no longer the sole attendant by Gu Liang's side. The Imperial Household Department had assigned a head chambermaid, a governess, and a personal eunuch... forming a small, strictly hierarchical service unit centered around the young princess. Though Gu Liang insisted Emma remain in the inner chambers to serve her, Emma's status among this group felt awkward—she was neither a veteran palace attendant nor possessed of any distinguished background, merely an "old servant" brought from outside the palace by the young princess.
Emma could distinctly sense the scrutinizing glances, both overt and covert, even a subtle hint of exclusion. She paid it no mind, continuing to perform her duties silently, observing and learning. She watched Gu Liang transform from nervousness to composure before the Hanlin scholars, observed the focused expression on her face as she learned to handle palace affairs, and noticed the occasional childlike innocence that surfaced when she sat at the emperor and empress's feet.
Gu Liang was growing, adapting to the palace and her new identity at an astonishing pace.
Once, while practicing calligraphy, Gu Liang's wrist grew sore and she accidentally knocked over an inkstone. Ink stained the freshly written characters and her sleeves. The attendant palace maid beside her paled, about to step forward to apologize and clean up.
But Gu Liang waved her off, rubbing her wrist wearily. "It's fine," she told the attendant. "Just clean it up. Today's writing was indeed a bit rushed." Her tone carried a natural, self-reflective tolerance—the kind that comes with authority.
At that moment, Emma stood quietly in the corner, watching. She saw that the timidity that had once lingered between Gu Liang's brows when he first entered the palace had largely faded, replaced by a steadily deepening composure. She no longer panicked easily, no longer instinctively sought support in every situation.
Emma knew this was a good thing. Gu Liang had to grow, had to learn to face everything in the palace on her own.
Yet simultaneously, a distinct chasm called "distance" silently widened between them. Gone were the days of hiding in corners at the Su residence, sharing a steamed bun and whispering secrets. Now, every movement was exposed to countless eyes, every word open to interpretation.
Gu Liang's world had expanded, filled with matters of state, power struggles, and the empire's future. Emma's world, however, seemed confined to the inner chambers of Zhilan Pavilion—limited to how she could better serve the princess and navigate the complex web of court relationships to protect herself.
Occasionally, late at night after Gu Liang had fallen asleep, Emma would stand alone by the window, gazing out at the star-studded sky, its square frame defined by the palace walls. The palace was vast, stretching beyond sight; yet it was also small, suffocatingly so.
She had fulfilled her initial promise, safely delivering Gu Liang to the position she deserved. But where, then, lay her own path?
She recalled Gu Liang's uncharacteristic focus and the hint of decisive resolve he displayed while handling palace affairs during the day. She remembered the Hanlin scholars lecturing on historical texts and treatises, imparting principles of governing the nation and selecting capable officials. A vague notion, one she would never have dared imagine while in the Su household, quietly took root within her heart.
Perhaps within these palace walls, beyond clinging to Gu Liang, there existed another path? One where she could establish herself through her own abilities, rather than merely by virtue of being the "former servant of the princess"?
But the thought was nipped in the bud as soon as it sprouted. For now, she needed to focus on playing her current role more convincingly, delving deeper into the workings of the palace, and building her strength.
She turned her head to look at Gu Liang, fast asleep on the bed. Moonlight filtered through the window curtains, softly illuminating the girl's peaceful sleeping face. Emma's gaze was complex and difficult to decipher.
Her thoughts drifted back to that evening when she had undone the intricate buttons of Gu Liang's summer robe, her fingertips inadvertently brushing against that patch of warm skin. The boy hadn't moved then, only his neck stiffening slightly before settling into a state of complete relaxation—an almost dependent compliance.
They stood mere inches apart, yet an invisible wall stood between them—behind it, the precious imperial granddaughter; beyond it, the court lady bound by duty.
Within arm's reach, yet worlds apart.