3. Such a Place… This Humble Servant Has Never Seen

[Fuk'anggan's POV]

Eunuch Li was stunned. A highly respected veteran who had served since the early years of the previous Emperor's reign, he knew every inch, nook, and cranny of the palace grounds.

"Such a place… this humble servant has never seen." Eunuch Li mumbled to himself.

It was soft enough to plant a seed of doubt in the Fifth Prince's mind. Perhaps what he had experienced was nothing more than a hallucination. After all, even the faintest allusion to ghost-lore or the supernatural was taboo, considered ominous and highly cursed within the palace. 

Sensing the gravity of the moment, I stepped in.

"The Fifth Prince must be dehydrated from all the running," I said calmly. "It may have caused temporary confusion."

"We must summon the Imperial Physician," I added, lowering my voice with concern.

Eunuch Li took the cue. He bowed low to the Fifth Prince. "Your highness, please allow this humble servant to escort you back to the royal chambers."

The Fifth Prince said nothing on the way back.

Upon arrival, Eunuch Li requested leave to inform Consort Yu and dispatch a junior eunuch to summon Physician Barin.

Noticing the Fifth Prince furrow his brows, I glanced around to ensure no one else was present.

"This humble subject believes that what was seen is real," I said gently. "Perhaps, in time, the truth will reveal itself."

The Fifth Prince lifted his gaze to meet mine.

"Yes," he said. "Father Emperor or Mother Consort need not worry over matters that cannot yet be proven."

"Please allow this humble subject to convey my apologies to Consort Yu for my lapse in responsibility as a companion." I clasped my hands and bowed in formal courtesy, withdrawing from the chamber with the Fifth Prince's silent consent. 

* * *

9 July 1994

[Elizabeth's POV]

I stared at my blank drawing paper while other kids around me began colouring their sketches with crayons. Today's art lesson was about drawing our family in a portrait.

But the word "family" seared a raw pain inside me.

I slid my fingers just under the short sleeve of my uniform blouse and touched a raised, bright red cane mark high on my upper arm. The fabric hid it well enough. Still, I felt not just the sting of the mark itself, but the burning swell of the tissues surrounding it. Each slight caress ignited a fresh wave of pain. I winced.

"Three marks across the left arm, two across the right," I counted.

Don't worry, Elizabeth. It should be gone in a day or two.

In my head, the voices began flooding back.

"What did I warn you about playing with boys?" Dad hollered. "They play rough with you, and you get hurt. One time! One time is all it takes to get you injured."

"It's for your own safety," he snapped. "You need to learn."

"You deserve your injuries, don't you?" Mum added in her coldest voice.

"Oh! That ungrateful child." Dad's voice lowered, twisting my fear. "Look at her eyes popping out in defiance. Mummy, pass me the cane or I'm gorging those eyes out. Also, go phone the school and tell them to take her out of playtime."

Shortly after, Mum reappeared from the master bedroom with the cane.

"Noooo!" I felt my body crouch into a ball on the floor, wedged tightly against the corner of the sofa arm, hands over my head. Bracing for the first lash of the cane to land on my arm, I clenched my jaw tight.

No more sounds, Elizabeth. The less you cry, the sooner it ends.

"Serves you right!" Mum flapped her arms like a duck, gloating. 

"Elizabeth!" the art teacher tapped my table, snapping me out of the voices. "The other children are almost finished with their artwork. You wouldn't want to present a blank piece of paper to your mummy and daddy, would you?"

"No, Miss. I promise I'll come up with something soon."

I grabbed the nearest crayon, not caring what colour it was, and started rubbing some random stick figures into the drawing paper. Then I took another colour and drew two larger stick figures beside the rest, already preparing to justify them:

"That's my mummy and daddy."

I rehearsed quietly, over and over:

"I'm sorry I'm so bad at drawing. I did my best. My mummy and daddy are the most beautiful people. The one with long hair is mummy, the one with short hair is daddy."

By the time it was our turn to submit the artwork, I had my lines ready.