Chapter 498

Heavy snow fell, weighing down the tree branches until they finally bowed under the pressure. Palace maids assigned to clear the path swung their brooms to sweep away the accumulation, their hands so red and swollen from the cold they could barely grip the handles. Every year, their chilblains would flare up—painful and itchy—and the constant friction of the broom against their palms during the clearing only doubled the agony. They wouldn't regain any feeling in their hands until they soaked them in hot water after finishing their chores. To survive in the man-eating imperial palace, one had to be sharp in a thousand ways. Here, they were in proximity to the most exalted people on earth, yet their lives hung by a thread; one small mistake meant certain death. They were as lowly as blades of grass. Whether they lived or died was a matter of a single word from their superiors. To ensure those nobles were not annoyed, the path had to be cleared perfectly; otherwise, a beating was the lightest punishment they could expect.