Legend of Zhen Huan · Chat

On the day of the Palace Selection, the sky was just beginning to lighten, and the heavy gates of the Forbidden City slowly opened in the faint dawn. Along the paved path of the Imperial Garden, the draft girls stood in rows according to their Banners. The summer sun was bright, and the peach and plum trees were in full bloom. They lowered their heads and composed their expressions, their dresses rustling. Occasionally, a bolder girl would secretly raise her eyes to steal a glance at the towering palace hall ahead—it was the most revered place in the world, and also their destination for the rest of their lives. Zhen Huan stood in the middle of the line, wearing a plain Manchu dress, with only a single green jade hairpin in her hair. She looked up at the sky; the sunlight was just right, filtering down through the flowering trees and falling upon her slightly lowered eyes. From ahead came the high-pitched voice of the eunuch calling out names. One by one, the draft girls went in; some were joyful, while others were dejected. She listened quietly, her fingertips unconsciously twisting her cuffs, thinking to herself: If I am not chosen, I can live out this life in freedom.