Seventeen times, spirits of heaven and earth, I counted on my fingers and realized I am not destined for this.

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In the afternoon, after passing through the narrow palace corridor and leaving Yong Alley behind, a gentle breeze brushed her face, and the world seemed to brighten. The surroundings were no longer the deep crimson walls tinged with black but shimmered with a kaleidoscope of colors—soft gold, azure, pale yellow, and tender green hues fresh and vibrant.

Golden scales of light scattered across the cobblestone path, and a golden compass floated in midair, pointing the way forward.

Sunlight filtered through the tree canopy, casting dappled patterns on Pan Yulian’s pale blue cloak embroidered with irises. Following the compass’s guidance, she walked forward, the air carried by the breeze sweet and fragrant, mingled with an indistinct floral scent and ripe, luscious fruit—an intoxicating sensation that made her slightly dizzy with pleasure.

Suddenly, Pan Yulian stopped. Ting Mei stepped forward, asking, "Mistress?"

"Nothing," Pan Yulian waved her hand, clutching her chest with a light laugh. "It’s just that we’re nearly there, and I’m a bit nervous."

Glancing at the compass blinking to indicate their destination, Pan Yulian straightened her clothes, renewed her spirit, and said, "Let’s hurry."

Ting Mei smiled and nodded softly, "Yes."

After another quarter of an hour, the compass stopped pointing—the Taiqing Court.

The maids only knew that the palace’s Runzhi Garden was scenic this time of year, but they were unaware that within Taiqing Court was a lotus lake.

The lake was filled with clear lotus plants, their overlapping leaves covering the water’s surface. Branches stretched gracefully upward, their blossoms white as jade and pink as silk, mingled with green and red hues, shimmering in the fragrance.

A white jade railing and vermilion wooden corridor extended to the lake’s center, guarded by countless soldiers, surrounded by eunuchs and palace servants attending to the scene.

At that moment, a figure concealed behind the green pines peeked out furtively from the right side—

From afar, Pan Yulian gazed upon this heavily guarded scene and her first thought was that she was truly no protagonist.

After all, when the heroine first meets the emperor, how could there be so many densely packed guards around him?

If it were like this, how could the heroine shed her status and share a bittersweet, fateful romance with the emperor, a pure love unswayed by power?

As Pan Yulian pondered these melodramatic scenarios, she carefully observed the lake’s center.

There, leaning against the railing, stood not only Emperor Ming Chong but also Prince Duan.

Prince Duan was the third son of the late emperor, born to the beautiful and elegant Consort Ying. As a youth, the third prince was handsome and bright, beloved by the emperor.

Now, the beautiful lady had passed away, and the once dashing young man had grown stout and round. Tall and broad, with a belly so distended it was impossible to hide, Prince Duan had to stand upright, his vermilion and purple python robe stretched tight, glaring fiercely.

After only a few steps and a short while standing, sweat poured down him like rain, his face glistening under the sun like a shiny steamed bun glazed with oil.

When he smiled suddenly, it was even more alarming—his complexion reddish-brown, his trembling belly rolling in waves, eyes squinting shut, and the flesh on his bearded face all squeezed together in a grotesque heap.

Though only five years older than Emperor Ming Chong, Prince Duan looked as if decades separated them.

Peeking carefully from behind the pine, Pan Yulian took a sharp breath.

No!!!

On the verge of losing her composure, Pan Yulian rubbed her eyes hard with trembling hands, then looked at Prince Duan again.

This second glance only tightened the knot in her chest.

She forced herself to calm down and turned to Ting Mei, stammering, “Ting... Ting Mei, do you think that’s really the emperor?”

Ting Mei, standing on the left side, looked toward the lake through the pines.

Well, the emperor and Prince Duan stood just right on opposite sides, completely blocking each other from her view.

Ting Mei saw no sign of Prince Duan but instantly recognized the imperial dignity and majestic bearing of Emperor Ming Chong.

Without hesitation, she nodded decisively, "Mistress, when I served Consort Zhen, I once saw His Majesty from afar. I’m certain that is indeed the emperor."

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With a resounding ‘clang,’ Pan Yulian’s suspended heart finally died.

Yes, in the palace, clad in vermilion and purple, flanked by bearers of ornate canopies, and surrounded by imperial guards... who else could it be but the emperor?

In this melodrama, the protagonist was Murong Ye, who sought the throne. Whoever occupied the throne must be a villainous background figure, ugly and shameful.

No one could steal the male lead’s spotlight.

Pan Yulian considered herself a mediocre and worldly petty person—no unyielding integrity, no courage to change the heavens, and not even a desire to die.

She adapted to the era’s rules, bending her back and lowering her head when needed.

To live better, she flattered and fawned, flattering Lady Lin and Pan Wenjun, and treated Master Pan with utmost respect.

If not for the male lead’s extreme cruelty and the harsh, explicit ‘night scenes’ written about her, Pan Yulian might have even considered clinging to him for survival.

But now, she never imagined she would have a day when ‘wealth and honor could not corrupt’ her???

Feeling utterly disheartened, Pan Yulian didn’t even have the courage to glance again at the ‘rich and powerful’ scene.

All delusions of imperial power and ardent love were cast far away.

“We... we should go back,” Pan Yulian’s legs felt weak as she took a step.

Ting Mei quickly steadied the pale and staggering Pan Yulian, “Mistress, be careful.”

After steadying her, Ting Mei, who knew the plan somewhat, asked, “Mistress, what has happened?”

Pan Yulian, her spirit crushed, looked at Ting Mei’s concerned face. She opened her mouth but refrained from speaking the harsh words that judged by appearances.

People cannot always learn from others; sometimes they learn from experience.

These many years in the Pan household had been like countless slaps repeatedly striking Pan Yulian’s face, teaching her the bitter truth: misfortune often springs from the mouth.

What was her status? How could she afford to be choosy with the emperor?

Despairing, Pan Yulian closed her eyes.

“I don’t feel well. Let’s rest and go back first.”

Seeing this, Ting Mei did not press further. After all, the decision belonged to Pan Yulian. She carefully helped her along the way back.

*

Though it was not yet June, the sky’s mood had quickly darkened.

Just moments before, the sky was clear and warm, but now it had dimmed, heavy with ink-like clouds pressing down. Winds grew stronger, urging the leisurely maids to hasten back to Yong Alley.

“What kind of weather is this? It’s so stifling,” muttered He Yushan, brushing her sleeves as she entered the room, clearly displeased.

Zhong Miaozhen, who had stayed inside, nodded naturally upon seeing He Yushan return, then resumed reading her book with her head bowed.

He Yushan, full of gloom, was about to speak when she suddenly noticed Pan Yulian.

Recalling her earlier annoyance, He Yushan refused to engage, sulking as she tossed her handkerchief and sat on the couch.

So, some daydreamed absentmindedly, some read, some silently sulked, and the afternoon passed in a blur.

On rainy days, night falls quickly, and the maids rested early.

Yet, amid the rain’s sound that night, the woman inside the embroidered canopy did not sleep peacefully—

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[In a daze, suddenly she found herself inside a splendid golden palace. A voice called out the name:

“Selected maid Pan Yulian, present yourself—”

Yes, it was time for the selection.

In her sleep, half-aware and ignoring all improbabilities, Pan Yulian smiled softly, twisted her waist, and joyfully stepped forward, straining her voice to speak sweetly, “Greetings, Your Majesty, may the emperor be blessed with great fortune.”

Outside, the sky, once bright, suddenly darkened as if rain was about to fall.

Pan Yulian instinctively looked up and saw a massive, swollen figure glaring at her with a smile. Then it stepped down from the imperial throne.

With the figure’s movement, everything around seemed to shake as if the earth itself trembled.

!!!

Panicked beyond reason, Pan Yulian’s mind blanked for a moment. She then desperately flailed her stiff limbs and scrambled up, turning to run.

Behind her came heavy, labored breathing and a sticky laughter that seemed to cling to her, “Beauty, why does my beauty run away?”

The heavy breath drew closer, as if blowing against her neck.

Terrified to tears, using all her strength, Pan Yulian was caught by fate—she stumbled and fell, unable to move.

“Beloved beauty.”

With the laughter, the bloated figure seemed to press down like a crushing wave. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating clearly that fierce, hideous grin—]

“Ahhhhh!!!!”

Accompanying the thunder outside was Pan Yulian’s heart-wrenching scream.

“Crash—!”

The bed curtain was flung aside in an instant.

Angrily, He Yushan, stepping in embroidered shoes, clad in a robe and holding a lamp, burst in and shouted, “Pan Yulian! You scream in the day and go mad at midnight. Do you intend to...?”

In the dim lamp light, she unexpectedly met those trembling, reddened, tear-filled eyes looking up at her.

Plain clothes, black hair, frail yet rosy, like a precious pearl nurtured within a top-tier shell, unknowingly cracked open, reluctantly revealing the soft pearl’s gentle glow beneath.

The candle flickered softly, and scattered tears shimmered, flowing as if to stir the heart.

No sound, blurred teary eyes, plaintive and trembling, panicked and flustered.

“Perhaps the thunder in your dream startled you?”

While He Yushan remained silent, Zhong Miaozhen, usually as silent as a wooden fish’s knock, spoke rare words.

She comforted the shaken Pan Yulian while soothing the stern He Yushan.

On such tempestuous nights when the maids were unattended by palace servants, there were fewer troubles.

In the end, He Yushan did not know how she returned to the couch. She closed her eyes and vaguely recalled a phrase from a classical story—

“Ah Zi, I pity you; how much more so an old servant?”

...