"The basic rules of flower arranging include proportion, balance, harmony, rhythm, colour, and texture. After the sensation of the nose comes the feast for the eyes. The aim is to smoothly guide the admirer's attention from one flower to another, from high to low; from out to in; from large to small. Each flower should be arranged to pass three-dimensional scrutiny..."
As Madam Xiu droned on and on about the intricate art of floristry, Zi Hua stifled a yawn and perused her surroundings. Unlike etiquette training, art lessons took place in scenic and shaded outdoor venues. And during moments of respite like this, she preferred basking in the comfort of the early morning breeze, soaking in the cheerful melodies of birds while letting Madam Xiu's teachings float in one ear and out the other.
For today's flower arrangement class, the courtiers were seated around a circular waterfront pavilion, their reflections aptly akin to white lotus flowers. Those near the front had ramrod straight spines and their full focus directed at the serious tutor, whereas those congregated at the back, like her, were much more casual in both attitude and posture.
Zi Hua spotted a familiar hourglass figure around the middle row, staring raptly at Madam Xiu and displaying an exemplary behaviour that contrasted her recalcitrant first impression.
For some reason, after the hot water incident the other day, Meng Fan had been flying under the radar—or at least as under the radar as having a personal entourage trailing after her everywhere could be.
Many, Zi Hua had learnt, were all too eager to turn a blind eye to the gtand general's Third Young Lady's foul temper in exchange for her favour.
And it wasn't just Meng Fan—a few courtiers who stood out were regularly approached by others and soon formed their own cliques. With each passing day, the status quo in Blossom Palace gradually fell into place to the point where Zi Hua found herself unknowingly isolated.
To the other courtiers, being a social pariah was a fate worse than death, but she was secretly glad to be distant from the verbal duels and false friendships... Even if the lack of friends made palace life even duller.
"...And now, feel free to apply your knowledge and create an arrangement fit for a consort!"
Scattered applause met the long-awaited end of Madam Xiu's lecture. Servants on standby started walking down each row, presenting baskets full of flowers for the courtiers to choose from.
If one were to disregard the occasional dispute over overlapping selections, the springtime scenery of young women dressed in pink offering flowers to pretty, deity-like courtiers by a waterfront pavilion would have painted a most peaceful and harmonious picture.
But because the courtiers were ultimately fellow rivals, harmony was destined to be excluded from the picture.
By the time the servants reached the last row, only the dregs of spring and the carnage of competition were left inside the woven baskets: Small, unassuming flowers nobody appreciated, and squashed blossoms with broken petals.
"Are you kidding me?! How are we supposed to work with this?" the girl beside Zi Hua grumbled.
"I agree," another said. "It's impossible to create something presentable from these... leftovers."
"Those people at the front took all the nice flowers. They could have at least saved some for us!"
"You shouldn't have sat this far back, then," someone in front of them retorted smugly. "First come first serve, after all."
"You—!"
Ignoring the escalating argument, Zi Hua peered into her basket and frowned. It was nearly empty, save for a few dejected dandelions lying at the bottom.
Like the other courtiers said: these pitiful leftovers were no good.
If only she were back home, all the sunflowers on the hills would have been hers to pick. What were wildflowers compared to majestic sunflowers? Nothing but sugar sprinkled on cake—an acceptable addition, though its absence wouldn't be missed.
'But what if...'
Zi Hua's eyes lit up. She tapped the shoulder of the courtier next to her and pointed at her untouched basket.
"Excuse me, do you still need this?" she asked. Her draw had more variety than Zi Hua's, but consisted mainly of twigs and stems plucked bare.
The girl pushed the whole basket towards her. "Take it," she grunted. "They're of no use anyway."
"Thanks."
Then, Zi Hua walked over to the array of vases prepared for today's class and picked a tall Rolwagen vase. When she returned to her seat, she started trimming the unadorned stems and forming an artistic structure by securing them with flexible twigs.
The final product featured one bright yellow dandelion flower surrounded by a few round, fluffy, dandelion seed heads at uneven heights. For the finishing touch, white dogwood's bright red stems added a pop of colour to the ensemble, resembling a towering crown over the fragile dandelions or a thorny shield depending on the angle.
While Zi Hua admired her masterpiece, a few courtiers had started taking turns presenting theirs up front.
Many showed tasteful arrangements of flowers with noble meanings like peonies, orchids, and lilies. It was pleasing to the eyes at first, but as time dragged on, less and less courtiers were able to give unique or poetic answers to the questions Madam Xiu posed regarding the symbolism and theme of their arrangements.
When the tutor looked at the last few courtiers left expectantly, Zi Hua heard a collective gulp.
A quick survey showed that her fellow backbenchers had either given up without assembling something, or tried and failed miserably to make something of the unwanted flowers they were dealt.
She sighed and stood up, walking to the front of the pavilion with slow, steady steps.
Emboldened by her bravado, some trailed after her, carrying their arrangements carefully. Only white knuckles and pressed lips betrayed their fear of criticism.
When Zi Hua reached Madam Xiu, the tutor eyed her arrangement dubiously.
"Courtier Yang, please explain the vision behind your... unique choice."
"Well..."
Zi Hua trailed off. All around her, various flower arrangements bobbed their petals in the wind, a colourful sea of repetitive beauty. Yet, what was it that defined the product of nature as "noble"?
Was it the meaning assigned to them by poets? Or the popularity stemming from trends set by noble people?
In the end, no matter how "noble", these flowers were all confined—not just by the pots and vases that restricted their growth and relegated them to a noble's ornament or fancy, nor the visceral world. But also by expectations and societal standards.
Lilies symbolised purity.
Lotuses symbolised happiness.
Roses symbolised love.
Peonies symbolised honour.
The courtiers all chose these flowers for their auspicious meanings, casting aside wildflowers without a second glance. Even those who had nothing to choose from but wildflowers would rather be empty-handed.
But flowers were more than the meanings they were assigned—they were miracles of nature, each one special.
"Ahem! Courtier Yang?"
Zi Hua looked at Madam Xiu, then at the arrangement in her hands.
"I wanted to create a piece that represents freedom," she answered. "One that, though fleeting, has the chance to fly to greater heights and admire views it could only dream of before. And, when all is said and done, it will return to the earth—its home, to bloom new life once more."
'Just like how I hope to be.'
Right then, a conveniently-timed breeze blew, carrying the dandelion seeds into the air. Like little snow fairies, the seeds took flight, swirling past Zi Hua and towards the sky.
Towards freedom.
"That is a lovely interpretation, Courtier Yang." For the first time seeing her, Madam Xiu's eyes held a glint of approval and... a ghost of a smile?
"You pass."
"Thank you, Madam Xiu!"
Zi Hua beamed at the acknowledgement, her entire face lighting up with genuine happiness. There was not a hint of pride or arrogance at her achievement; no stifled smirk or faked humility.
Suddenly, Madam Xiu understood how this young lady, whose beauty did not stand out amongst a garden of noble flowers, possessed such an undisputable appeal that even the emperor was ensnared. For in this cold, cutthroat palace, she was the only one who radiated candour and rare, comforting warmth. And that, was more precious than all the riches, adoration, and favours power could buy.
In that moment, nobody noticed the narrowed eyes boring into Yang Zi Hua. Nobody paid attention to the girl who unconsciously snapped a flower stem in half.
As though it was her fair, fragile neck.