A simple melody, a forgotten lullaby, and a hidden birthmark—one by one, the Emperor begins to unravel the truth about the girl fate placed before him.
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The Emperor's hands lingered on her shoulders a bit too long, his dark eyes fixed on her face with such intensity that Yue's heart began to race.
"Your Majesty," she repeated, lowering her gaze in apology.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going—"
"That song," The Emperor interrupted, sounding casually interested.
"The one you and Consort Lan were singing. It's quite unique."
Yue's breath caught at his words.
"It was nothing, Your Majesty. Just a melody that came to mind while Consort Lan played the music."
"Where did you hear it?" His voice was friendly, but his piercing gaze didn't waver.
"I..." Yue faltered. "I really don't know..."
The Emperor's jaw tightened slightly. "Curious. I've only heard it once before."
He leaned a bit closer. "Who taught it to you, Yue?"
His closeness quickened her pulse.
"No one that comes to mind, Your Majesty. Sometimes melodies just pop into your head, unexpectedly."
"Do they?" His voice lowered.
Li Zhao's expression changed slightly, growing firmer.
Yue stepped back slightly.
"I should return to my duties, Your Majesty. The Qarakhai feast preparations—"
"Of course." His voice was soft but had an edge.
"We wouldn't want to delay such important work."
Yue bowed deeply. The Emperor gave a slight nod, still watching her closely.
Yue walked away, resisting the urge to run. She sensed his eyes on her back and felt his suspicion follow her.
Rushing to her quarters, her mind raced with questions the Emperor had asked.
She entered, closed the door, and leaned against it, finally sliding to the floor as her legs gave way. Her breath was fast and shallow.
"My lady!" Hong hurried over from where she had been arranging clean linens.
"What happened? Are you unwell?"
Yue raised a trembling hand. "I'm okay, Hong. Just... let me be for a moment."
Hovering nearby, Hong's face was concerned as she saw Yue's pale expression and shaking hands.
"My Lady, should I call for a royal physician?"
"No, it's okay. I'm fine," Yue said sharply, then softened her tone. "
Hong knelt beside her, careful not to invade her space.
"Maybe you should rest, my lady."
"Ya, too much for one morning," Yue muttered. She pushed herself up from the floor, feeling weary.
Yue made her way to the bed, sinking onto it.
"I must be at the kitchens soon for the Qarakhai feast preparations. Wake me in an hour."
"But my lady—"
"Just an hour, Hong." Yue's eyelids were already closing.
"A quick nap, then back to my duties."
Hong nodded reluctantly, placing a light blanket over Yue.
"As you wish, my lady."
Yue swiftly drifted into sleep, her body succumbing to exhaustion.
Darkness surrounded Yue as sleep took over, the tension easing from her body.
The physical exhaustion from training combined with the emotional strain of her encounter with the Emperor pulled her deeply into slumber.
As her breathing deepened, the barriers between consciousness and memory thinned.
A dream came to her, not like the usual jumbled dreams, but as clear as if she were reliving a past moment.
She heard a melody in the dream. It was the same haunting tune she used to sing with Consort Lan.
This time, it had words sung softly by a gentle woman's voice:
"Silver moon, golden sun,
Watch over my precious one.
Dragons soar through midnight skies,
While my child peacefully lies..."
The voice belonged to a woman whose face was hidden in shadows but felt warm and loving. Her hands, elegant with long fingers, had a single jade ring.
She was wrapping a silk blanket around a small child, around Yue.
"Sleep now, little one," the woman said softly, her voice like a song.
"Tomorrow is a new day."
The woman leaned closer, and a pendant hanging from her neck swung forward. It was made of jade.
The moonlight made the green stone glow above the child's face.
The child, Yue, touched the pretty pendant with small fingers.
The woman smiled, though her face was hard to see clearly, like looking through mist.
"One day," the woman said, "this will be yours. But for now, it keeps you safe."
Yue stirred in her sleep, trying to grasp the dream and see the woman's face.
"Mother?" she whispered aloud as her sleeping mind tried to grasp the fading memory.
Yue woke up suddenly, her heart beating fast.
The woman's face, the lullaby, and the jade pendant vanished quickly.
"My lady?" Hong was nearby. "You were talking in your sleep."
Yue put a hand to her head. "What did I say?"
"Just one word. 'Mother.'" Hong's face softened. "Was it a nice dream?"
"I don't know." Yue swung her legs off the bed.
She got up quickly, shaking off the last bits of sleep.
The Qarakhai feast preparations couldn't wait, even with strange dreams or the Emperor's tough questions.
"My kitchen robes, please," she said, splashing cool water from a bowl on her face.
Hong helped her change into the simple clothes needed for kitchen work. Yue tied her hair back quickly, already thinking about her tasks for the day.
When Yue arrived at the imperial kitchen, it was full of noise and activity. Cooks shouted orders, helpers moved quickly, and the air was filled with steam and strong smells.
Several servants bowed as she entered.
"Noble Lady Yue," the head cook greeted her. "We have gathered all the ingredients you requested."
Yue nodded, looking over the variety of spices and unfamiliar ingredients.
The strong scent of cumin, the earthy smell of dried mushrooms, and the sweet tang of fermented mare's milk—all are essentials of Qarakhai cuisine.
"The lamb must marinate overnight," she instructed, carefully measuring the spices.
"And these noodles need to be hand-pulled just before serving."
Her hands moved skillfully, but her mind kept wandering.
"Noble Lady Yue?" A young kitchen helper stood before her, waiting for instructions.
Yue snapped back to reality, realizing she'd been standing still, gazing at a jar of saffron.
"Uhh...yes. The onions need to be sliced very thin," she instructed, refocusing on her task.
She concentrated on her work—slicing the onions, listening to the oil sizzling in the woks, and measuring the exotic ingredients carefully.
Yet, in the back of her mind, the familiar song played repeatedly, as if calling from a distant memory.
Meanwhile, Emperor Li Zhao was in his private study, pacing with his hands behind his back, his face showing deep thought.
The tune Yue had hummed with Consort Lan troubled him.
He stopped at the window, gazing out at the palace grounds.
Yue's resemblance to the late Yun princess, her natural skill in hunting, her knowledge of Yun-style cooking, her instincts on opening the bracelet - and now this song.
"It can't just be a coincidence," he whispered.
He stood by the window, his mind made up hours ago, but he hesitated, not knowing the truth it might reveal.
Then, the Emperor struck a small bronze bell on his desk, and soon a eunuch entered, bowing deeply.
"Summon the Chief Historian, do it discreetly."
The old historian arrived within the hour, clutching a bundle of scrolls. He bowed deeply in the Emperor's presence.
"Your Majesty, what can this lowly one do for you today?"
"I need you to find information about a woman named Yue, who was recently raised to Noble Lady," Li Zhao said calmly.
"The maid turned concubine?" The historian's eyes widened in surprise.
"Yes, I want to know her origins", replied the Emperor.
"Understood. I will check the imperial records, Your Majesty."
"And look into the records of the surviving nobles from the Yun Kingdom. Be thorough in your search."
"Nobody can know about this," said the Emperor.
The historian bowed again, more deeply this time.
"As your Majesty commands."
Hours later, the historian returned as evening shadows fell across the palace.
His hands trembled slightly as he placed an ancient, yellowed scroll on the Emperor's desk.
"Here are the records of Noble Lady Yue from when she entered the palace's service," he explained, carefully extracting an aged document.
"She entered the palace at sixteen—an exception to the rules, admitted under the recommendation of the late General Wan."
"Apparently, she was listed as their adopted daughter. Her background ends there," said the historian.
"But I found this in the imperial archives—rescued from the Yun royal palace after its fall."
Li Zhao unrolled the scroll gently. The silk was fragile, and the ink had faded over time.
His eyes scanned the elegant script—a family record of the Yun royal house, saved after the kingdom's collapse. His finger paused at an entry:
"Princess Yun Zhen, born under the sign of the Dragon. Marked by heaven with the crest of her ancestors—a crescent moon on her left shoulder."
"What does that have to do with Lady Yue?" Li Zhao asked in confusion.
"There was… a note, in the physicians' records, when Lady Yue first arrived. It mentioned a mark of the same description as Princess Yun Zhen," said the historian.
The Emperor's face showed no reaction, only a subtle narrowing of his eyes.
"You may go, and speak of this to no one," he tells the historian.
Alone, he stared at the scroll, his thoughts racing with implications.
He slammed the scroll shut, standing abruptly and knocking over a teacup.
The porcelain shattered against the floor, dark liquid seeping into the expensive carpet. Li Zhao barely noticed, his mind consumed by the revelation.
Across the summer palace, Yue prepared for bed. She removed her outer robes and sat before her mirror, as Hong, her maid, softly brushed her long hair.
As Hong swept the hair away from Yue's neck, a pale, crescent-shaped birthmark was visible near her left shoulder.