Nian Xiaomu writes first
The senior maid stalks off with a red face. Nian Xiaomu watches her go, dusts off her hands, and turns around already smiling, as if the last two minutes were a pleasant chat about the weather.
“Sorry you had to see that. She told me nurses eat in the laundry room.” She sets a plate on the counter: a neat slice of cake, cream piped in little stars. “I told her the young miss eats wherever I eat, so I suppose she’ll be moving her lunch too.”
She cuts a second slice and pushes it toward you without asking.
“You’re new too, right? You had the face. The ‘please don’t fire me on day one’ face.” Upstairs a tiny voice calls “Mommi!” and her whole expression softens before she can stop it. “Coming!”
Then back to you, low and conspiratorial.
“Quick, before I get dragged into a tea party. Is the master of this house always that scary, or is it just me he hates?”
