Chapter Two: The Jade Palace of the Immortal Court

Morning hour. Nine song and dance maidens, crowded into a large carriage, were brought by Liu Ju and Peng Lun to meet up with Liu Yongcheng’s procession on East Street, heading together towards the Prime Minister’s residence.

The carriage was draped with bamboo blinds. Those inside could see out, but outsiders could not peer within. After traveling for one or two hours, they arrived at the mouth of a grand avenue.

At the entrance stood a magnificent archway of white marble, towering as high as a three-story building. Carved upon it were clouds and flying dragons, openwork plum blossom brackets, spanning six columns and five bays, occupying the entire street. Beneath the archway, layers of guards in embroidered uniforms stood watch, meticulously scrutinizing every carriage and traveler entering the street.

Inscribed above the arch were numerous titles: Chief Pillar of the Nation, Grand Tutor, Imperial Scholar of the Huagai Hall, Imperial Scholar of the Wuying Hall, and so forth. Long couplets were carved on the side columns. Before Lingran could see clearly, their carriage had already passed beneath.

Evidently, both Liu Yongcheng and Liu Ju were high-ranking officials, for the guards quickly allowed them through.

Seated within the gently rocking carriage, Shen Zhu suddenly remarked, “The Prime Minister’s residence truly rivals the palace. Just look at that archway—it stands shoulder to shoulder with the emperor’s.”

Lingran was puzzled. When she sought explanation from the others, they all turned away from her questioning gaze. Yet she was clever; reflecting on the archway’s grandeur and the dragon motifs, she guessed it was certainly built beyond regulation. Such extravagance must have been a grave taboo in ancient times. Clearly, Chu Liuxiang wielded immense power, paying no heed to the emperor.

This street differed from every other in the capital; the further they traveled, the stronger Lingran’s sense of awe grew. The avenue was paved with smooth stone slabs, extraordinarily wide. To the right rose imposing, continuous red walls, resembling city fortifications, punctuated by numerous battlements. Within, towering trees and lofty palaces could be glimpsed. The left side was flat and open, with manicured flower beds and lawns stretching as far as the eye could see. Only directly before the main gate of the residence stood two rows of tall cypresses, like sentinels, extending into the distance until the faint silhouette of buildings appeared at the horizon.

On this avenue, apart from the endless processions bearing gifts to celebrate the birthday, not a single commoner was visible.

The vastness and grandeur before the residence inspired reverence and awe in all who entered the street. Lingran could not help but recall the boundless squares before European palaces—how similar the style was!

She had always thought only the imperial palace had red walls. Could the Prime Minister’s residence truly be permitted such ornamentation?

With these questions swirling in her mind, she concluded: Even without knowing more, the splendor before the residence alone proved Chu Liuxiang was a corrupt official of the highest order!

After a while, the carriage reached a stone stele at the center of the avenue, inscribed with eight bold characters: “Civil officials dismount their carriages, military officials dismount their horses.” Everyone obeyed, proceeding on foot from that point.

Even the procession led by the West Bureau eunuchs and the Right Army commander was no exception. Lingran and the other women were called down from their carriage, following behind two stewards from the Liu family, heads bowed.

Yet Liu Yongcheng’s party was clearly given special attention. The group of men in black brocade robes waiting by the stele spotted them from afar; immediately, one stepped forward, cupped his hands, and announced, “Deputy Captain Lu Gao of the Embroidered Guards, under orders from Commander Lu, welcomes the Chief Minister. Greetings to Lord Liu and Earl Ningjin. I am on duty and unable to pay formal respects—please forgive me.”

It was said the Embroidered Guards served as the emperor’s own bodyguards, but here they seemed mere gatekeepers for Chu Liuxiang. Lingran’s curiosity about the powerful Chu only deepened.

Liu Yongcheng nodded to Lu Gao and followed him towards the main gate.

Liu Ju’s attendant handed over the gift list. Two household servants took it, glanced through, then dropped back and addressed the lead steward, “These ladies should accompany us through the west side gate.”

At that moment, Peng Lun turned back, seemingly by chance, and cast a glance at Lingran.

Lingran made a silly face at him.

Peng Lun was momentarily startled by her sudden ugliness, then smiled as he understood her intent, his heart settling as he followed Liu Ju and the others towards the main gate.

Meanwhile, Lingran and the others were led by two household servants through the west side gate. Only upon entering did they discover a long passageway; emerging from it, Lingran looked up and was startled. The walls of the residence, invisible from outside, were revealed to be a dozen meters thick, with a row of gleaming red cannons hidden within. A mere adjustment could have their muzzles aimed through the battlements outward.

Lingran secretly shuddered—if every wall of the residence was like this, then it was nothing short of a fortress. Even the imperial palace might not be so well-defended.

Inside the walls was a typical passageway, with several tables set up in the middle. The servants led the women directly to these tables.

The two Liu stewards were clearly perplexed and about to inquire when a servant explained, “There are simply too many visitors today—people from all over the country crowd the gates, unable to get in. Thus, Young Master Hongxiao has ordered that, apart from colleagues of the Prime Minister, all performers, attendants, songstresses, and entertainers be subject to body searches.”

The Liu stewards dared not protest and accompanied the nine women to the inspection.

Fortunately, their bodies were searched by a few matrons. Though their hands were rough, they swiftly checked up and down, and finding no weapons, allowed them through.

Walking along a corridor of breathtaking beauty, Lingran was so overwhelmed by the splendor that she barely blinked. The style of the Prime Minister’s residence was vastly different from what she had imagined—though she had toured the Forbidden City in Beijing and the summer palace at Chengde, every building here was a masterpiece, no two alike. Beyond traditional architecture, there were halls shaped like two lions facing off; there were tall towers with domed roofs; and, most astonishing, she thought she glimpsed majestic Gothic structures in the distance, though a turn in the path hid them behind artificial hills and towers, leaving her unsure whether it was reality or illusion.

A winding river appeared intermittently in view, bordered by bamboo and strange rocks, weaving among the buildings with an air of grace and clarity.

Within the residence, every five steps revealed a pavilion, every ten a tower; winding corridors and soaring eaves, stone and wooden bridges of every design spanned the river. Between several tall buildings, there were long bridges connecting them high above the ground, like rainbows lying across the waves. On these bridges, beauties stood facing the wind, robes billowing gracefully, so ethereal one might think they’d wandered into a celestial realm.

The group felt much like Granny Liu entering the Grand Garden; even the well-traveled Lingran had only seen such fantastical scenes in comics or grand online games—her eyes could barely take it all in, her mind stalled by wonder.

Finally, they arrived at a great lake. Lingran stood upon a winding path, barely an inch or two above the water, along which the maidens walked as if treading on air, their silk slippers raising no dust.

She gazed around in awe at the ingenious design and magical layout.

Six palaces, arranged in a semicircle, rose from the water as if growing from it, tier upon tier, with sculpted balustrades and marble terraces. Mist shimmered in the sunlight, casting a veil of white over the golden palaces and their reflections, blending reality and illusion as the wind swept the lake, leaving one unable to tell which was fairyland above or below.

Who could have designed such a complex? Lingran believed that even the old Summer Palace would pale in comparison, and her curiosity grew ever deeper.

The path across the lake had no railings; careful not to fall in, she steadied herself and noticed the two household servants leading them towards a small island at the lake’s center.

The island was smooth and polished, gleaming under the sun, with no tall trees, only scattered little flowers around the edges. Facing the largest palace, several colorful canopies were set up, with men and women of varied attire bustling in and out, evidently busy with preparations.