In the dead of night, the gilded candle holders in the Second Prince's Estate flickered, wax dripping slowly down the intricate coiled-dragon patterns to pool on the desk in twisted shapes, like congealed blood and tears. Shen Mingyue faced the bronze mirror and began to remove her hair ornaments. Each time she pulled a pin, the sound of metal clinking in the silence was sharp, as if she were shedding a heavy disguise.
She kept silver needles hidden in her hair; the icy touch of the metal against her skin sent a chill through her veins, a constant reminder of the danger she was in. During the seven days since she had stepped into this estate, she had pretended to practice needlework, but in reality, she used the needles to prick secret patterns into her embroidery: a trapdoor beneath the third pillar of the East Courtyard; the guards rotating at the northwest watchtower every two hours after midnight; the dungeon entrance hidden beneath the seventh blue brick of the kitchen stove. These seemingly mundane stitches were actually life-or-death intelligence codes.
Whenever the old woman who collected the night soil passed her window each morning, she would tuck the embroidery into the bottom of the woman's basket. As she watched the old woman’s hunched back disappear into the distance, she prayed silently that the intelligence would reach Gu Jinghong safely, while fearing that the woman might be caught and an innocent life ruined. "The secondary consort is in high spirits, I se…
Chapter 61