Morning light filtered through the latticed windows of Jinshi's private study, casting patterned shadows across the low desk piled with scrolls and reports. The air carried the faint sharpness of fresh ink and the lingering trace of sandalwood from the incense burner in the corner. Servants had come and gone already, leaving a tray of tea that steamed quietly, untouched.
Jinshi sat in his usual place, robes of deep indigo arranged with careless precision, his violet eyes scanning a report on yesterday's festival proceedings. But his focus wandered. The warmth from the night before still lingered, faint but persistent, like a scent he couldn't quite place.
The screen slid open with a soft rasp. Gaoshun entered, bowing low before straightening—his face as impassive as carved wood, though his eyes missed nothing.
"My lord," he said, voice steady. "You asked for news on the servant from the festival."
Jinshi set the scroll aside and nodded. "The boy who carried the tray. The one with the 'perfume' spill."
Gaoshun stepped closer, producing a small folded paper from his sleeve. "Red spider lily extract, mixed thick to burn on contact. Not a simple accident. The boy vanished into the outer markets right after. My men traced him to a lodging house near the eastern gate, but he was gone by dawn. Left behind an empty vial and a few coins—foreign mint, from the northern borders."
Jinshi's expression remained calm, but his fingers tightened slightly on the desk's edge. "Northern borders. Someone testing the waters, then. Or hired for it." He paused, recalling the moment—the tray tipping, the sudden heat, and Yelan stepping forward without hesitation, taking the burn meant for him. "She moved fast. Before anyone else reacted."
Gaoshun inclined his head. "The maid Yelan. Yes. I had the same thought last night when you asked me to look deeper."
Silence settled for a moment, the tea's steam curling lazy between them.
Then Jinshi spoke again, his tone casual but pointed. "Gaoshun… when exactly did you find her?"
Gaoshun's brows lifted fractionally—the closest he came to surprise. He considered for a breath, then answered evenly. "Three months ago, my lord. You sent me to collect the special incense from the outer palace main gate. On the way back, I heard whispers among some maids near the side path. They were gathered, looking concerned. I went to check."
Jinshi leaned forward slightly, interest sharpening his gaze. "And?"
"There she was," Gaoshun continued. "Sitting against the wall, dressed in simple traveling clothes, looking… lost. No one knew her. She didn't speak much at first. After a while, she said she remembered her name—Yelan Hua—and that she came from a small village. Said she had been sold into service and ended up here. I took her to the quarters for new maids. That's all."
Jinshi nodded slowly, absorbing the details. A small village. Sold. It fit the story of many who entered the rear palace—fates twisted by debt or misfortune. But something about it felt too neat, too ordinary for her.
Gaoshun watched his lord's face, then asked quietly, "Why do you ask now, my lord?"
Jinshi didn't answer directly. He picked up the tea cup at last, turning it in his hands without drinking. "I think she has a unique ability."
Gaoshun's expression didn't change, but agreement came quick. "Yes. I think so too."
Jinshi glanced up. "What makes you say that?"
Gaoshun folded his hands behind his back, recalling without emotion. "Small things. Once, she prepared a tea for me—said to drink it before sleep, because I hadn't been resting well lately. No one else had noticed, or if they did, no one spoke. When I asked how she knew, she said by my scent. The same with Hui Lan's back pain—she knew it the same way, from scent alone. And when Lady Lishu's condition improved with that soothing oil… Hui Lan passed it along, but it came from Yelan originally."
Jinshi set the cup down untouched. The pieces fit, yet they didn't. A maid from a small village, sold into service, with senses sharp enough to detect exhaustion, pain, hidden poisons—all through scent alone. And last night, the way she had read him: his steps, his shadow, his very presence at her door.
"Things are not that simple," Jinshi murmured, almost to himself.
In his mind, a thought took shape—clear but unspoken. One name. Two personalities. The quiet, graceful maid who blended into the palace walls… and the freer, bolder girl who emerged in the garden's hush, teasing, laughing, seeing him as just a man.
He didn't voice it. Not yet.
Gaoshun waited, patient as always, but Jinshi only waved a hand lightly. "Keep watching the northern leads. And the boy—if he surfaces again."
"As you wish, my lord."
Gaoshun bowed and withdrew, the screen sliding shut behind him with the same soft rasp.
Jinshi leaned back, gaze drifting to the window where morning light strengthened. The festival's shadows lingered, but so did the night's quiet revelations. Yelan Hua. A name that felt less simple with every passing hour.