The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of lotus blooms from the garden ponds. I woke before the bells had fully rung, my hands itching with restlessness. Madam Yun had already begun her rounds, instructing the servants on the day's schedule, but I could not remain idle. The palace stretched endlessly beyond my chambers, each corridor promising secrets I had yet to discover.
I dressed quickly in softer silks of jade and cream, muted enough to draw little attention, yet comfortable for wandering. Today, I decided, I would explore. Not recklessly, but carefully like tracing the edges of a vast painting, noticing every detail.
The corridors were quiet at first. Servants bowed as I passed, their eyes downcast, the hush of the palace pressing against me like a living wall. I traced my fingers along carved panels depicting dragons and cranes, imagining the hands that had painted them centuries ago. Somewhere above me, the Emperor's banners flapped faintly in the wind, their gold thread catching sunlight like liquid fire.
I paused in the central courtyard, watching koi ripple the surface of a marble pond. The water reflected the gilded eaves and distant towers, a miniature world in constant motion. I felt a pang of longing for my father's manor, for the bustling docks and fragrant markets, where life was measured in work and laughter, not whispers and bows.
I carried a scroll and brush with me, tucked carefully beneath my sleeve. In a quiet corner beneath a ginkgo tree whose leaves shimmered like gold, I unrolled the paper. The palace seemed to hold its breath as I dipped the brush into ink.
"Father," I wrote, my strokes deliberate and precise, each character a promise and a confession, "The palace is larger than I imagined, and quieter than I hoped. Yet I am learning. The duties of a Princess Consort are endless. I bow, I serve, I manage the halls and the servants, but I am not yet seen. I am only measured."
I paused, gazing at the distant rooftops. The Third Prince is cold, more so than the moon above the garden ponds, yet he does not demean me outright. That is a mercy I did not expect, and I will remember it.
"I have met one friend," I continued. "Lady Meiyun, a concubine of the Second Prince. She is bold and sharp, laughing at Madam Yun and the endless rules. I do not know if she will remain an ally, but for now, her words are light in a place filled with shadows."
Folding the scroll carefully, I tucked it into a hidden pocket of my robe. It would reach my father in time, delivered by one of the merchant couriers still moving between the palace and the city.
I wandered deeper, discovering rooms I had only glimpsed from the hallways: a library lined with bamboo scrolls, a music room where delicate instruments rested untouched, a small shrine where incense curled endlessly toward painted heavens. Every door told a story, every corridor whispered secrets.
At the far end of the eastern wing, I rounded a corner too quickly and nearly collided with a young man in flowing robes. My heart leapt into my throat, but the man caught me with a gentle grip.
"I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, bowing hastily.
The young man laughed, a sound warm and lively. "No need to apologize. You must be the Third Prince's consort, yes? I am Crown Prince Hanyuan."
I blinked in surprise. His smile was open, easy, as if the palace's walls and rules did not weigh on him at all. He looked at me with the excitement of someone seeing the world for the first time, and I felt oddly relieved.
"I… yes. I am Chyou," I said softly.
"You are far braver than I expected," he said. "Most consorts stay close to their chambers, never wandering. But you-you explore! That is wonderful. Back when i was a kid i used to sneak out the palace just to see my friends back in the village"
I laughed, startled by his ease. "You… played with commoner children?"
He grinned. "Of course! I would rather climb trees with them than sit in a room counting gold threads." He winked. "Perhaps one day you can show me these secret gardens you discover."
Before I could answer, a shadow crossed between us. The Third Prince had appeared, his dark eyes narrowing at the sight of the Crown Prince's smile. I felt the tension coil in the air.
"Brother," the Third Prince said, his voice low and measured, "you should not run about disturbing the halls."
Hanyuan laughed, undeterred. "I only met the Princess Consort, and she seems in no danger, does she?" He turned to me, his smile softening. "Do not mind him, Chyou. He may appear cold, but he simply believes he owns the world."
The Third Prince's gaze flicked to me, sharp, unreadable, and then he turned on his heel and disappeared down the corridor. I exhaled slowly, my heart still racing.
Hanyuan looked at me again, his eyes bright with genuine curiosity. "You will find allies here, I can see it. Even in the coldest halls, there are corners of warmth. Keep your eyes open, and perhaps one day the palace will feel less like a cage."
I nodded, my fingers brushing the scroll tucked inside my robe. "I hope so," I murmured.
For the rest of the morning, I explored quietly, sketching the courtyards and corridors, noting the servants' routines, and imagining the stories hidden behind every door. With Hanyuan's laughter echoing in my memory, the palace no longer felt as suffocating. It was vast, yes, and full of eyes and whispers but it was also alive.
That night, as the moon rose and silvered the rooftops, I lay in my bed, the scrolls safely hidden. The palace was quiet now, but I knew it would never truly sleep. Tomorrow, I would continue my lessons, continue observing, and perhaps, even begin to understand the people who held the palace in their hands.
But for now, I allowed myself a small satisfaction. I had walked alone, met the Crown Prince, and begun to mark this palace as mine in my own way.