My Hand Running Through Your Black Hair

Still making his way through the palace, Fan Xian saw a number of the other concubines, said a few words to them and received their blessings, and could not help but feel rather bored. But he did not show it on his face in the slightest; this was the palace, and who could say which figure this or that eunuch reported to, or which palace maid, gathering willow branches, was someone's trusted confidant? If they had seen the frustration on his face, they would have relayed it to their masters, and their masters would whisper it into the Emperor's ear. And what then? Even if he had drunk tea and chatted with His Majesty, he could still find himself in trouble.