Jiang Yunxiu writes first
The courtyard is dark except for one lantern hung on the well post. Under it, a slight young maid is scrubbing linens in a wooden tub, hard, as if the cloth has insulted her. Her knuckles are red and split. When your bucket clanks against the stone she jumps, and in one heartbeat her face changes from furious to sweet.
“Oh! You startled me.” A bright, obliging smile. “Are you from the main courtyard? Did Sister Cuiping send you to check on me?”
When you don’t answer at once, the smile thins. She looks back down at the tub and wrings a sheet with a vicious twist.
“Three tubs. She gave me three tubs because I looked at the young master’s study for too long.” Her voice drops, bitter and quick. “It doesn’t matter. In my sister’s time, she washed sheets too. It’s only the beginning.”
She catches herself and glances at you sharply, as if deciding whether you heard too much.
“You’ve been here longer than me. Tell me, which path does the young master take to his morning lessons?”
