Chapter Thirty-Three: Words from the Pavilion of Bright Brocade

More than a hundred candidates gathered at the Mingjin Pavilion in the inner palace as instructed.

If at first, Mingchu had wanted to be a free fish in the open waters, joining the selection was an act of desperation, a last resort. But for Mingwan, she aspired to be a resplendent phoenix, entering the selection with her bridges burned behind her, resolved to win at any cost.

The examination was divided into two sections: one tested knowledge of the classics and histories, the other assessed talents in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. These were the most basic requirements to become a Hui Companion—not only must one be learned, but also accomplished in the arts. Mingchu muttered softly, “The Hui Companion is meant to accompany the Princess, not to be her tutor. Why must the requirements be so intricate?”

For example, the companions beside young noblemen were simply there to read with them. Mingchu felt her only purpose in this examination was to accompany Mingwan. She knew her own limitations well enough. Thus, she treated it as an experience, a chance to broaden her horizons.

Out of the hundred and twenty candidates, the first round—the academic test—eliminated a host of well-bred but illiterate ladies, leaving around seventy. By some miracle, Mingchu advanced and prepared for the next round.

That day, Mingchu dozed lightly by the window, the plantain leaves outside swaying in the breeze. Princess Yunshan, her long dress trailing, crept along the wall with great care.

A yellow sparrow flew by, its chirping rousing Mingchu. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up and, quite unexpectedly, saw Yunshan crouching in panic beneath the window.

A burst of noise approached, followed by a group of palace maids running in from afar. Mingchu looked at the figure below her window in confusion.

Yunshan, hunched over, whispered, “Let me hide in your room—don’t give me away.”

Surprised, Mingchu nodded. Yunshan hurried inside and concealed herself behind the screen.

Soon, a palace maid arrived, her tone unfriendly. “Have you seen the Princess?” Mingchu hesitated for a moment—so that young woman was the Princess! Since their arrival at Mingjin Pavilion, none of the candidates had seen her.

She shook her head solemnly. “I have not.”

The maid peered into the room but, seeing nothing amiss, moved on with her retinue.

Mingchu waited until they left before entering her room. She closed the door, knelt before the screen, and said, “Your humble servant, Jiang Mingchu, pays her respects to Your Highness.”

A pair of gentle hands lifted her up. Yunshan regarded her and said, “Thank you for helping me.”

Mingchu shook her head. “Your Highness is too kind.” Inwardly, she mused: this Princess seemed two or three years younger than herself, lacking any intimidating royal air. Why had she come here in secret? Was she to choose her companion herself? If so, why not do so openly?

“As Hui Companions are being chosen for me, my father has ordered me to stay in the hall, copying calligraphy and reviewing my lessons, forbidding me from coming here. I was so annoyed, I sneaked out on my own,” Yunshan explained, as if reading her thoughts.

So that was it. Mingchu still didn’t understand—if the Hui Companion was to care for the Princess, why not let her make her own choice? Indeed, life in the royal family was full of constraints.

Mingchu looked at Yunshan with a trace of sympathy.

Yunshan perched on her little couch and asked, “You’re also one of the candidates, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“You passed the academic test, so you must be very learned?”

A hint of embarrassment crossed Mingchu’s face. “Your Highness, I never much cared for books as a child. Passing the test was pure luck.”

Yunshan laughed. “How wonderful. I dislike studying as well.”

Mingchu glanced up at her.

“If you don’t like reading, what do you enjoy?”

“I like climbing trees, playing cuju, and playing the flute,” Mingchu replied.

Yunshan’s interest was piqued. “That sounds delightful.”

“The palace musicians only play formal music, which I don’t like. Could you play a little tune for me?”

“At your command.” Mingchu drew the First Moon Flute from her sleeve, raised it to her lips, and played a gentle melody. The mellow notes drifted out the window, dancing with the wind.

When the tune ended, Yunshan smiled in delight and took the flute. “What a beautiful flute. I like it very much.”

Thinking of Yuewu, Mingchu smiled as well. She said lightly, “This flute is called the First Moon Flute. It was... a gift from a friend.”

“Is that so?” Yunshan’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “I wanted to ask for it, but hearing that, I suppose I shouldn’t.” She handed the flute back.

Mingchu paused for a moment, then held the flute tightly.

Yunshan glanced outside. “I must go, or they’ll worry and tell my father, and then I’ll be in trouble.”

Mingchu followed her and knelt. “Your humble servant respectfully sees Your Highness off.”

Yunshan turned back, looking down at her. “Your name is Jiang Mingchu? You’re an intriguing person. I like you—and your flute.”

Like a gust of wind, Yunshan hurried away, vanishing without a trace. The plantain leaves still swayed in the breeze. Mingchu carefully tucked the First Moon Flute into her sleeve.

The next round, the talent competition, would take place in ten days. Mingwan practiced diligently every day, either dancing or playing the qin. Her seriousness made Mingchu reluctant to disturb her.

Sometimes, Mingchu would simply watch her. The fervor in Mingwan’s eyes was sometimes so intense, it felt unfamiliar.

“Fourth Sister, do you really want to be the Hui Companion by the Princess’s side?” Mingchu asked.

“What do you think?” Mingwan adjusted her strings, her voice languid.

“I can’t say for sure, but I believe you can do it, Fourth Sister.”

Mingwan turned slightly, her eyes deep and black. Her voice was soft yet resolute. “Chuer, do you know? Heaven has charted a path for everyone, but mine is so dark I can’t see the light. So I must carve out a new road for myself, even if it means being battered and bruised.” Her lips curved, the light in her eyes blazing like fire.

A growing sense of unease welled in Mingchu’s heart. She grasped Mingwan’s hand, her dark eyes earnest and urgent. “Fourth Sister, then our paths must lead in the same direction, right?”

Mingwan brushed aside the hair from her forehead and let the smile fade from her lips. “Everyone has their own fate. You and I are not the same.”

Many years later, Mingchu would realize that in pursuit of her own path, Mingwan was not only willing to be covered in wounds, but would stop at nothing—even if it meant pushing the innocent into hell.