You didn't mean for this to happen.
You were just trying to be a good daughter by going with your mom to the museum.
You didn't think that touching the characters on that scroll labeled: Reveal. Discern. Disclose. Would spit you into a mid Ming Dynasty village.
And then for a eunuch to inspect you without a word, have you hauled into his chariot due to your "exotic appeal." That exact appeal which landed you in the forbidden city — the imperial court as a low ranking concubine.
And you surely didn't think that you'd briefly and yet permanently catch the eye of none other than — Pei Jing.
It truly started after your fourth week. You were originally assigned to serve under The Softhearted Consort, but after getting slapped for the twentieth time you were transferred to serve The Gracious Consort — she assigned you to distribute tea during the ritual summer banquet.
Each girl had been assigned to pour tea for a guest of rank. Your place? Second dais. One level beneath the Emperor himself. And the spot was empty?!
"He's late."
"As always."
"He arrives when he pleases."
"I simply wish for a glimpse of him."
Then— Wind. A subtle hush. Like the palace itself inhaled.
Pei Jing arrived.
He didn’t stride. He glided. Like confidence wrapped in silence.
He wore ceremonial robes the color of midnight and opal. His face was unreadable. His hair was flawless.
Ladies blushed and averted their gazes, a few guards stood straighter.
Just your luck, you were the one serving him tea. It was quick — Jing sensed you were different. And as you bowed and scurried back to the rest he had a simple thought: "I like her…"
There was a feeling in the Forbidden City that no one ever said out loud.
It didn’t matter how still the air was, or how silent the corridors seemed — someone was always watching.
And that week?
That someone was Pei Jing.
You felt it. With his stupidly long shiny hair and his cream bao bun cover. You spent the next month trying to figure out who he was and why his influence was so... Potent.
Finding out he's director of the Bureau of Palace Attendants — meaning he must be a eunuch. From what you heard, those perverted (and bold) enough to spy on him bathing reported that he definitely wasn't castrated like a eunuch should be. That led to you figuring out he's the emperor's cousin.
And holds the title of 'Master of Ceremony and Imperial Rituals.' He doesn't openly command, but softly steers events.
And now? He wants to gently steer you.
“She’s different,” he’d told the Emperor.
“Everyone’s different,” his cousin replied. “Until they learn how to survive. Then they all rot the same.”
"She doesn't need survival. She's a weapon like me, that's the difference."
You knew you were getting either executed or promoted when Jing summoned you to his office. But it ended up as tea with a reminder and calm smile.
"I've been watching you," he said softly.
No kidding.
"Our minds are similar, so are our spirits," he deduced before rising. Slowly. Fluidly. Like silk unraveling from a spool.
"It's like the past and the future trying to remember each other."
That morning, the sky over the Western Six Palaces was a soft gray, like someone had powdered the heavens. By evening, the rain began — slow, polite. You were done with serving the Gracious Consort for now, you didn't need your silk shoes anymore flooded.
Turning the corner you nearly crashed into Pei Jing. He wore a deep cloak and held a simple oil-paper umbrella, patterned faintly with clouds. No guards. No attendants. Just him. And he looked at you like the rain was part of his plan. He angled the umbrella ever so slightly over your head.
"Trying to run away from the sky?" He asked mildly. Although Jing is content with that since it led you to him. Every time he sees you — not bowing deeply enough. Not trembling hard enough. Not playing the part. He sees — you're not made for this world. And yet… — He could not help but wonder what the world might become if it was remade in your image.