Time passes in a comfortable manner and Jeweller Ping visits me in my courtyard house when needed. He gifts me a new jewelled apricot blossom hairpin with butter yellow flower petals. I like it even better than the old one.
Comfortable times never stay the same. Time is ever changing, just like the seasons. My time of getting used to being in the capital city has come to an end. I am summoned to the palace with Prince White Fur and Gentle Whiskers.
A man in golden robes look down at me from where he sits with his lady in gold. Their facial features prod at my faded memories, stirring up flicks and flecks of ashy pictures. They are reminiscent of people I had once seen but not learnt the names of. A fierce man in beetle armour stands nearby, examining me together with the couple on the dragon throne. A woman in indigo and pink blossoms stares down from her seat at the side, playing with her sleeve.
The scene is familiar and yet unfamiliar. The hall is like and yet unlike the one I had once known. The coloured clothes are worn by different faces and different body shapes. The scent in the air is not that cloying perfume anymore. It is cleaner. Fresher. More like lilies in a sun warmed field.
Distantly, I hear Gentle Whiskers and Prince White Fur giving their greetings, while I look around. Turning to Gentle Whiskers who is kneeling with his forehead to the ground, I tell him my conclusion.
"Not the same."
"Princess," hisses Prince White Fur from his forward bend posture where his clasped fist salute is still being held forward, waiting for someone to release him from the formal bow of greeting.
"My Lady," Gentle Whiskers glances up at the big seats from the floor as if to make sure no one is angry and then at me, "remember what I told you? You must bow and make your greeting too."
Thinking hard enough for my forehead to furrow, I remember the faded formalities that had once been drummed into me and that Fluttering Bird had tried to remind me of last night.
"Oh," I say, blinking and still trying to decide whether I should be afraid of this place and these people or not. While they are the same and yet not the same, I am uncertain of their personalities and whether they will be as harsh as the old people who used to stand or sit in this hall. There is so much to process. Too many thoughts and emotions trying to crowd themselves into my head and I have trouble making sense out of any of them. In any case, giving a greeting won't do any harm. It's just that I don't know who I am. How then am I supposed to give my formal greetings? "I, this - this -" I struggle to figure out what my identity is. "Who am I?"
"Princess," suggests Prince White Fur.
I shake my head. No. The Princess is dead.
"Tofu," says the man in the golden robes.
"No," I shake my head at him. "Tofu is for eating. There is nobody called Tofu anymore. The one that had that name died."
"Commoner," Gentle Whiskers nudges me. "Or Lady. You are a Lady."
Cocking my head, I press my lips together. That is true. I am a lady but under the new Emperor, I cannot use the title of a noble lady. Commoner? I don't think I am. So what is my title? What is my name? Unable to find the right name for myself, I make do with whatever comes out of my mouth when I see people begin to shift impatiently.
"This... nobody greets - greets his Imperial Golden Robes," I frown, trying to remember those words that are on the tip of my tongue but just won't come out right. There are too many people staring at me. The air is too still and I can feel myself beginning to tremble under the weight of so many eyes.
"Nobody?" I hear a disbelieving voice echo.
"The Emperor is the Imperial Majesty," Gentle Whiskers reminds me in a patient tone, bringing his head down toward the floor again.
"Imperial Majesty," I correct myself and then look at Gentle Whiskers again. I've forgotten what comes next. "And..."
"Imperial Serenity," Gentle Whiskers prompts.
"And her Imperial Serenity," I finish with a proper curtsy rather than a bow.
"Bow," Gentle Whiskers points down at the ground next to him from his bowed position on the ground without looking up at me. "You are a commoner now."
Bowing down to the ground, I sniff the floor and stand back up.
"The floor smells like beeswax and honey," I announce.
I hear smothered giggles and chuckles from around me. The golden robed man on the throne turns his head to one side to cough. The golden lady hides her face behind a wide sleeve, although her eyes curve into smiles. The fierce man in beetle armour shifts his weight and brings his palm to his face with a roll of his eyes, while the woman in indigo and pink blossoms hides her face behind a wide sleeve as well. In her hand is a snow white jade pendant that she fiddles with.
"My Lady," says Gentle Whiskers' muffled voice, "as a subject of his Imperial Majesty, you're meant to stay down until he give you permission to stand. Have you forgotten all of your etiquette training? You're a commoner subject of the Emperor now."
"Emperor?" I give a little start, realising that I had just committed crimes of disrespect. It was the same sort of feeling I suspect I would have if I had accidentally fallen out of bed with a bang At the same time, an unassailable surge of memory rises to strike at me and weigh me down so that I do indeed fall to the ground with a bang.
A hand patting my cheeks brings me back from my faint and I am helped onto a seat that has been carried in. It looks like my waking has interrupted some conversation. The weight of eyes falls on me once more. Gentle Whiskers checks my pulse with a slight frown. He gazes into my eyes.
"My Lady?" he asks without saying anymore.
"I'm sorry," I tell him, reaching for his hand and looking at the floor. The floor blurs intermittently.
He holds my trembling hand and strokes it. My shoulder is pulled to his chest in a sideways hug.
"Daughter," he tells me, "you are safe. You are safe here. Nobody will harm you."
"Emperor," I stammer. "This - the throne room. The court - judgment... sentenced to death. They died. All red."
"Daughter," Gentle Whiskers holds my cheeks in his hands so that I can see nothing but his face. "It's not the same place. Remember? You looked. You saw and you know. It's not the same."
Nodding, I try to catch my breath while he dabs at my eyes with a handkerchief.
"Deep breaths," Gentle Whiskers says. "You are not in the past anymore. It is the present. It's not the same."
"Not the same," I repeat after him, taking deep breaths with his prompting. "Not the same. But..." I glance toward the throne. Strangely, the throne is now empty. Where have the golden robes - oh.
The golden robed people have taken chairs to come sit closer to me on the same level, rather than looking down at me from on high. The fierce man in beetle armour looks troubled and somewhat skeptical, while all the other faces either look concerned or are wearing professional expressions of non-expression. The woman in indigo and pink blossoms leans forward in her chair, still fiddling with that snowy white jade. There is curiosity in her eyes.