Su Wan's arrival at court was like a drop of clear water falling into a pool of oil. Though it did not stir up a storm, it caused an imperceptible tilt in the delicate balance that had existed within Zhilan Pavilion. In Gu Liang's world, there was now a companion with whom she could share poetry and reminisce about the past. The youthful spirit that had been suppressed by her status and responsibilities seemed to have found an outlet.
Emma observed it all. The faint, tangled bitterness in her heart was forcibly suppressed, transforming into deeper calm and calculation. She understood better than anyone that lamenting one's fate served no purpose in the present circumstances. Only by amassing tangible capital could one stand unshakable within the depths of the palace.
Opportunity arrived quietly. As Gu Liang's studies deepened, her involvement in court affairs gradually shifted from observation to limited participation. Emperor Minghui seemed intent on training her, frequently assigning her tasks like organizing and summarizing less critical yet tediously time-consuming documents—all under the guise of "practice."
These tasks invariably involved tedious data cross-checking and meticulous categorization. Though Gu Liang initially approached them with enthusiasm, prolonged exposure left her dizzy and overwhelmed. Su Wan tried her best to assist, but her talents lay in poetry and literary refinement—she too struggled with such mundane practicalities.
One day, staring at a pile of dusty ledgers detailing losses in the Jiangnan grain transport system, Gu Liang frowned deeply. He couldn't help but vent to Su Wan beside him: "The numbers are overwhelming, the entries chaotic—it's dizzying. I truly don't know where to begin."
Su Wan offered gentle reassurance: "Your Highness, please calm your mind. Such trivial matters are inherently taxing. Might you not rest for a moment?"
Emma, who had been organizing papers at the lower end of the desk, paused her work and spoke calmly, "Your Highness, if you trust me, perhaps I could give it a try."
Gu Liang and Su Wan both froze. Gu Liang was surprised, while Su Wan was puzzled.
"You?" Gu Liang hesitated. She knew Emma was literate and meticulous, but handling such intricate paperwork...
"When I served at the Su residence, I assisted the stewardess in organizing the estate accounts and gained some understanding," Emma stated matter-of-factly, without a trace of boastfulness. "These documents may appear chaotic, but they follow an inherent logic. They can be categorized by time, location, and subject matter. Then, extracting key data to create summary tables and comparing discrepancies will reveal clear patterns."
As she spoke, she stepped forward. Without touching the ledgers, she merely tapped the air with her fingers, clearly indicating several potential classification directions and several obvious data discrepancies.
Gu Liang followed her gestures and saw that the tangled mess of accounts did indeed begin to reveal some semblance of order. Half-convinced, she pushed a portion of the documents toward Emma: "Then give it a try."
Emma accepted the task, setting up a separate desk in a corner of the side hall. She fetched paper and brush, settled her mind, and began her work. Her brush moved swiftly; though her handwriting wasn't calligraphic art, it was neat and clear, easy to decipher. Sorting, extracting, tabulating, verifying... her movements were orderly and efficient.
Within just two hours, when Gu Liang returned from her break, Emma had already finished organizing that portion of the accounts. What she presented was no longer a jumble of raw records, but several clearly laid-out tables. Timelines, geographical distributions, and loss comparisons were all readily apparent. Brief summaries were attached alongside, pointing out several data anomalies worthy of attention.
Gu Liang's eyes widened with astonishment as she examined the spreadsheets. Picking one up for closer inspection, the fog of confusion that had previously clouded her mind suddenly cleared. "Emma... you possess such skills?" This went far beyond mere literacy and meticulousness; it demanded exceptional logical reasoning and analytical abilities.
Su Wan leaned in to look, her eyes equally wide with astonishment. She knew she possessed none of such skill.
Emma bowed her head. "Trivial skills. I'm just glad I can ease Your Highness's burden."
From then on, Gu Liang frequently entrusted similar tedious paperwork to Emma. She never disappointed. Not only did she work swiftly, but she excelled at her task, consistently distilling the core points from complex information, organizing them logically and presenting them with crystal-clear clarity. At times, she even drew insightful, straightforward conclusions from the data—insights Gu Liang herself hadn't considered.
When Emperor Minghui occasionally inquired about the progress of those "practice" tasks, Gu Liang reported honestly, giving Emma full credit. The emperor listened without comment, merely remarking indifferently, "She's sharp-witted."
This remark carried the weight of silent approval. Gradually, word spread throughout Zhilan Pavilion and even to well-connected quarters of the palace: the quiet personal attendant by the Crown Princess's side was not only loyal and dependable but possessed astonishing skill in handling complex affairs. Even some senior palace attendants who had once looked down on her due to her background began to treat her with quiet respect.
Aima keenly sensed this shift. She understood she was steadily carving out her own standing through her own abilities, not merely relying on Gu Liang's favor. She remained reserved and diligent in her duties, yet the steady, capable aura she exuded grew increasingly impossible to ignore.
Su Wan observed all this with mixed feelings. Her bond with Gu Liang was genuine, yet witnessing Emma unexpectedly demonstrate her worth and seemingly gain more substantial reliance stirred an unavoidable pang of unease within her. She tried to refine her poetry and prose, hoping to find more common ground with Gu Liang. Yet she understood that in the practical affairs he was increasingly involved in, her contributions could never match Emma's.
Once, after handling a batch of documents concerning military supplies for the border garrison, Gu Liang rubbed his aching temples and sighed sincerely, "Without Emma, who knows how much energy these trivial matters would have consumed." He glanced at Emma quietly brewing tea nearby, his gaze brimming with dependence and trust—an emotion distinct from the one he shared with Su Wan when discussing poetry and painting, closer to the recognition of a capable right-hand person.
Emma gently placed the brewed tea before Gu Liang, her voice steady: "Your Highness flatters me. It is merely my duty."
She lifted her head, her gaze briefly meeting Su Wan's. Su Wan quickly averted her eyes and picked up her own teacup. Emma, however, continued her work as if nothing had happened.
The aroma of tea wafted through the chamber as spring sunshine streamed through the windows.
Emma gently stroked the freshly organized documents, smoothing the edges until they lay perfectly flat. These files, transformed into orderly volumes by her hands, stood as the most compelling proof—proof that the "path for women's advancement" she envisioned was no mere pipe dream.
Practical ability was the foundation she had forged with her own hands, while the vision taking root in her heart was the faint light guiding her through the darkness.
This faint light gradually sketched a blueprint in her mind: What if she could forge a path for women across the land, women like herself—brilliant yet shackled by birth? This path should not depend entirely on the favor of a lord, but rather, like the imperial examinations for men, have a relatively fair system of assessment and promotion. It should begin within the palace, selecting female officials skilled in document management, proficient in mathematics, and adept at administration. Grant them official ranks and responsibilities, making ability—not lineage—the foundation of their standing. She sensed vaguely that this might not only resolve her personal predicament, but perhaps... also bring a new force to Gu Liang, and even to this dynasty that appeared stable yet was constantly hampered by the aristocratic clans.
She knew the road ahead was long, but at least she had firmly grasped the first stepping stone.
That night, Su Wan returned to her side chamber adjacent to Zhilan Pavilion. Warm candlelight filled the room, where a newly composed poem about plum blossoms—left unfinished that day—lay spread across the table, its ink already dry. She sat before her dressing mirror, gazing at her reflection: gentle eyes and brows, yet unable to conceal a hint of melancholy. The trusting gaze Gu Liang had directed at Emma that day was fundamentally different from the pure affection he showed her.
She picked up the poem. The words on the paper were clear and beautiful, the language skillfully crafted—the result of hours of careful deliberation. Yet now, they seemed light and insubstantial, like willow catkins—powerless and thin in this imperial palace, where the currents of power struggles and practical affairs surged. Suddenly, she felt that the reassuring spiritual bond between her and Gu Liang, once built upon poetry, calligraphy, and painting, was being silently eroded by something stronger and more solid. And that thing was precisely what she could not give him.
She tucked the poem slip gently into her sleeve, blew out the candle, and let the moonlight illuminate the room with its clear, cold radiance.
Three young women, each harboring their own thoughts, sought their place within the depths of the palace.