"Why do I have to find an Empress if I can do handle it by myself?"
For the nineteen girls, they have to take any opportunities to escape the life laid out for them. To be swept up in a world of glittering hanfus and priceless ornaments. To live in...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Ryujin's POV
Palace of Great Benevolence, Forbidden City January 2, 1745
Dɪɴɴᴇʀ ᴡᴀs ᴅɪsᴀᴘᴘᴏɪɴᴛɪɴɢ. Next week I'd have to tell my maids to leave some room in the robe for me to eat.
In my room, Nakyung, Yuna, Chaeyoung, and Xiyeon waited to help me out of my hanfu, but I explained that I'd need to stay in it a little bit longer. Yuna figured it out first—that Yeonjun was coming to see me because I was always eager to get out of this uncomfortable, and binding clothes.
"Would you like us to stay later tonight? It's no problem, " Chaeyoung said just a little too hopefully. After the calamity of what happened earlier this week, I decided to send them out as early as possible was the best way to go. Besides, I couldn't bear to have them watching me until he showed up.
"No, no. I'm fine. If I have a problem with the hanfu later, I'll ring. That also includes you Yuna. Also, Kai can you also leave?" I told them which surprisingly agreed. Yuna pouted.
They reluctantly backed out the door and left me to wait for Yeonjun. I didn't know how he'd be, and I didn't want to start a book and have to stop or sit down to weave only to stop right back up. I ended up just lounging on the arhat bed, waiting. I let my mind wander. I thought of Pinky and her kindness, I realized that, besides a few small details, I knew a little about her. Still, I trusted that her actions toward me were in no way fake. And then I thought about Heejin ignoring us she must have her reasons. Then I thought of the concubines who were all to fake. I wondered if Yeonjun could tell the difference, he's a dense one.
It seemed like Yeonjun's experience with women was so great and so small at once. He was gentlemanly enough as far as he acts around me, but when he got too close, he came undone. It was like he knew how to treat a lady, he just didn't know how a date works.
It was quite a contrast to *Junkyu.
Junkyu.
His name, his face, his memory hit me so quickly it was hard to process. Junkyu. What was he doing up there now? If he didn't die along with my brother five years ago. He'd still be at work if he had a job today. Or maybe out with his family, or whoever else he'd decided to start spending his time with. Part of me ached to know. . . part of me wanted to crumble just thinking about it.
I looked over to my yellow earthen wine gourd. I picked it up and felt the coin—he gave me before he died—slide around, so lonely.
"Me, too, " I whispered. "Me, too."
Was it stupid of me to keep this? I'd given back everything else, so why save one little coin? Would this be all I had left? A penny in a gourd to show my daughter one day, to tell her about my first love—the one only no one knew about?
