Chapter 6
That evening, Father flew into a rage in his study.
“Where is the white jade hibiscus cup I kept here? Did you steal it and sell it again?”
“Giving out porridge is one thing. Bringing a beggar home is another! What do you think you’re doing?”
He slammed his polished strand of red sandalwood beads onto the desk.
“Either throw him out, or get out yourself!”
I put on a shamelessly ingratiating smile and offered the excuses I had prepared.
“The white jade hibiscus cup was too plain. It wasn’t suitable for a man of your age.”
“Father, Jing’an is a good fellow. Besides doing chores, he writes beautifully. He could tutor me. Shall I bring him here to write a few characters for you?”
Father was a scholar, and had always scorned my chaotic handwriting.
I summoned Xiao Heng at once.
At his first glimpse of him, Father froze.
“Have I seen you somewhere before?”
Xiao Heng lowered his gaze. Neither servile nor arrogant, he deftly explained it away.
Perhaps he appreciated an educated man. After seeing Xiao Heng’s handwriting, Father’s expression grew odd, and he said nothing more about driving him out.
But it put me on my guard.
Xiao Heng was strikingly handsome. If even Father thought he looked familiar, what about other people?
What about Xie Chenzhou, who had been reborn just like me?
A few days later, I went out and bought a heap of colorful masks. I tried them on Xiao Heng one by one.
“Which looks better? This silver half-mask, or the iron mask that covers your whole face?”
“Both look good.”
“Then keep them both. Wear a mask whenever you see outsiders. Understand?”
“Yes.”
This time, he agreed promptly, as obedient as could be.
Now I was curious.
“Aren’t you going to ask why?”
Xiao Heng’s lips curved. He looked at me with his beautiful, upward-tilting eyes and leaned a little closer.
“Didn’t you say I was handsome, Second Miss?”
“…”
His eyes were deep and dark, as though they could draw me in and make me lose myself without realizing it.
I swallowed and hurriedly looked away.
“A couple of compliments, and you actually believe them.”
“Has my sister been ordering you to catch cicadas in her courtyard? Don’t go there again!”
Xiao Heng answered quietly.
“I haven’t gone.”
“I belong to you, Second Miss. I only obey you.”
He said it with utter seriousness.
Fortunately, I knew who he was. Otherwise, I might really have believed he would loyally serve me for the rest of his life.
Still, being with him was wonderfully comfortable.
I liked walnuts, and he could easily shell them with the kernels intact.
When two roosters fought and lost their prettiest tail feathers, Xiao Heng made me a feather shuttlecock.
Then there was my handwriting practice.
At first, he helped straighten my brush. Only after I gave him permission did he dare gently hold my hand.
Set the brush down, draw the stroke, lift the tip.
The scent of ink slowly spread across the paper.
I could feel how nervous he was. He held his breath, as though afraid to disturb someone.
He never explained why a beggar knew how to write.
With an unspoken understanding, I never asked.
The warm summer breeze swept through the pavilion, stirring an inexplicable restlessness inside me.
Until an unwelcome voice interrupted.
“I heard you brought a beggar home. So it really is true?”