Nanny Na's return

Meanwhile, seated under the shade of the courtyard pergola, Han Aeng also found herself surrounded by an array of books—pages filled with the intricate tales of history, the complexities of politics, and the nuances of court etiquette. 

Don't be fooled, though.

These subjects are not for academic pursuits; Han Aeng's dedication to her 'education' was fueled solely by ambition.

Her observations of the high-ranking ladies in the palace had made one thing clear – respect and influence in this world were not bestowed lightly. It was granted through a deep understanding of palace operations.

The women of the palace exuded regal composure, wielded authority with grace, and commanded a presence that left no room for doubt. Yet, behind this facade of elegance, they walked a tightrope, never overstepping each other's boundaries, preserving a delicate status quo to safeguard their positions from any challenge.

Indeed, the palace was nothing less than an intricate labyrinth of relationships and power dynamics.

To Han Aeng, it was a challenge—a game to be played with cunning and strategy; every move counted and had to be thought through. If she wanted to secure her place, she could not afford to let her guard down.

Determination ablaze in her eyes, she immersed herself in her studies, occasionally interrupted by Ruyi, who brought snacks to sustain her through hours of intense focus.

The afternoon heat enveloped her, its warmth seeping into the courtyard, silencing the outside world and coaxing her mind to wander.

She rested her head on the table, her voice drowsy as she mumbled "I'm so tired." 

In the haze of a distant memory, she could remember Nanny Na's teachings. 

**

"Mastering the art of diplomacy is just as essential as wielding a sword, if not more, my child."

"But why do we have to adhere to these strict rules?" Young Han Aeng grumbled, throwing her hands up in frustration. "It's like we're prisoners in our own home."

"My dear, the palace is a delicate tapestry. Every thread, every gesture, is woven with precision. Stray too far, and the fabric unravels." Nanny Na gently placed a hand on Han Aeng's head, her eyes softened with understanding.

"It's all about balance and appearances," Han Aeng reiterated, drawing on the teachings ingrained in her.

"Exactly! The way you carry yourself and the words you choose contribute to the dance of power." Nanny Na explained, her tone gentle yet firm. "Every move is strategic. And sometimes you dance not just for yourself but to protect those you hold dear."

Curious about her insights, Han Aeng couldn't help but ask, "Nanny, how did you know all this?" She recalled that Nanny had never spoken about her own experiences in the palace, yet her understanding of power dynamics was profound.

Nanny Na avoided her unclouded gaze, the innocence of the young child making her heart grow faint. "Experience is a harsh and patient teacher. I've stumbled, fallen, and learned to rise gracefully. And in doing so, I've earned the right to guide you." 

**

The words echoed in her mind as she considered whether her relentless pursuit was worth the sleep she was sacrificing (and so desperately craved). 

Then, a familiar, motherly voice abruptly interrupted her thoughts.

"How many times must I remind you, my lady, not to while away the hours like this? Anyone who sees you will call you lazy!"

Springing up with sudden energy, Han Aeng fixed her gaze on Nanny Na, who stood beside Ruyi.

During their days apart, a noticeable weariness clung to Nanny Na as though she had been robbed of sleep, and the burdens of recent events had etched themselves onto her features. The lines on her face seemed to deepen, and the once warm twinkle in her eyes now carried a subtle hint of exhaustion.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Han Aeng rose to her feet, declaring, "You haven't seen me in a week, and that's the first thing you have to say?"

Nanny Na, momentarily dropping her affectionate facade, feigned exasperation, "A whole week, and you haven't bothered to ask about my well-being. It seems your husband's house has erased all traces of me from your memory."

"Oh, Naggy Na." Han Aeng darted forward, enveloping Nanny Na in a tight hug, letting herself relax in the familiarity of her presence. "Glad to see you alive and well."

As Nanny Na tenderly stroked Han Aeng's hair, her hands, weathered by time, exuded a nurturing presence. "How did the rest of the wedding go, my child?"

Smirking, Han Aeng pulled away, "Smoothly."

"You didn't attempt anything funny on your husband, did you?" Nanny Na's perceptive eyes paused, scrutinizing Han Aeng's countenance intently. 

Bursting into laughter, Han Aeng motioned for Nanny Na to take her seat. "Pft. Try what, Nanny?"

"One can't help but wonder, considering the tricks you've pulled." Nanny Na took her seat, the lines on her face revealing a hint of amused curiosity.

Rolling her eyes, Han Aeng decided not to entertain the conversation any longer. "What did the doctor say?"

"According to him, this old woman is fit enough to serve by your side till I die." Nanny Na responded with unwavering confidence.

Han Aeng's face adopted a resigned expression, and she let out a soft, exasperated sigh. "Tsk, it seems I'll never break free from your grip, will I?"

They continued to share laughter, immersing themselves in the warmth of their companionship before Nanny Na broached a new topic.

"I've been thinking," she began, her gaze drifted to the shadows cast by the afternoon sun over the courtyard. "Perhaps it's time you visited the temple. There is much to be thankful for and some matters to reflect upon." 

Nanny Na's weary yet hopeful expression didn't go unnoticed. A deep sigh escaped Han Aeng as she agreed, her tone a mix of resignation and compliance. "Fine. I suppose I'll take this opportunity to offer prayers for the well-being of my marriage and whatnot." 

"Like I always tell you, we should embark on this new phase of our lives on the right foot, and the blessings from the temple will guide us," Nanny Na said earnestly. "Don't go just because I told you to."

As she leaned back in her seat, Han Aeng tilted her head slightly. The temple held a special place in Nanny Na's heart. It was a sanctuary where she sought solace, meditated on her experiences, and sought guidance from the divine in both times of joy and sorrow.

However, for Han Aeng, the temple had always been a realm where her prayers echoed endlessly without response. Like whispers lost in the vastness of the sacred space, each plea for guidance or clarity seems to dissipate into the air. 

The stone walls and ancient pillars absorbed her words, giving them no audience, and god, if he listened, remained silent witnesses to her internal struggles. It was a place that left her with a sense of isolation, a lingering doubt about the efficacy of seeking solace within its hallowed halls.

Each time she went as a child she promised herself there would be no next time, and yet, she still went. Who knows what she was hoping for. 

'"Where is the nearest temple, Ruyi?'" Han Aeng beckoned Ruyi over with a graceful wave.

Ruyi approached with a respectful nod. "'The nearest temple is Xianhua Temple, Wangfei. The imperial family is set to go there in a few days time."' 

'"For the... The Empress Dowager's Blessings Festival?"'

'"Yes, Wangfei."' Ruyi's posture remained poised, her hands gesturing with a quiet elegance. "'This festival was initiated by the Empress Dowager for women to come together and pray for various blessings—prosperous marriages, fertility, and the well-being of their children. It's becoming a cherished tradition to seek the divine guidance, ancestral blessing, and fostering the bonds that tie women together as a community."'

"'I see."' Turning to face Nanny Na, Han Aeng sighed again, the sound carrying a distinct undertone of reluctance. "Well, I suppose I can't escape it even if I want to."

"My child, it's more than just tradition. In the silence of the temple, you might uncover answers to questions you didn't even know you had."

"Answers in a temple? I've been to plenty, and all I've found is silence." Han Aeng raised an eyebrow, her tone harsher than she intended. 

"The answers may not always come in words, my lady." Nanny Na's expression softened at her scepticism. "Sometimes, they reveal themselves in the quiet whispers of your own heart. Give it a chance, and you might discover something you desperately crave."

With a half-smile, Han Aeng conceded. "Alright, but if god remains silent again, I hope he doesn't mind my complaining."

"The temple is used to all kinds of conversations. They appreciate sincerity, even if it comes in the form of complaints."