Chapter 1

Chapter 1

My Miss is the gentlest, kindest person in the world.

I was a stray she picked up.

That year, I was thirteen and she was twelve.

On a day of heavy snow, I was huddled in a corner, as filthy as a rag. A little girl, as delicate as carved jade, walked over. She used a clean, fragrant handkerchief to gently wipe my face and led me into that warm, cozy house.

From then on, she became my Miss.

Miss taught me how to read, how to dress, and how to embroider. It didn’t matter if I made a mistake; she never uttered a harsh word.

When I made a truly ridiculous blunder…

She would rest her chin on a curved index finger, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons, and say with a sigh and a laugh, “Xiaoman, oh Xiaoman, how did you manage to embroider a pair of mandarin ducks into fat crows?”

However, such lighthearted moments were rare.

Because Miss was very busy.

My Master was a man of significant background.

A lonely Hanlin Academician of the Former Qing Dynasty, he had just been granted the title of Imperial Preceptor when the Qing Dynasty fell. With no place to exercise his vast erudition, he poured everything he had learned in his life into Miss, his only child.

According to Master, “The world may be in chaos, but the social order must not be disrupted, and the Way of Confucius and Mencius must not be abandoned.”

And so, every day before dawn, Miss would stand outside the study, waiting quietly.

Writing, reading, playing the zither, playing chess… if there was even a single mistake, she would be struck on the palm with a ruler.

When I saw her eyes red from crying, I would use the skills I’d learned while wandering the streets to climb trees and pick chestnuts for her. Afraid that I might fall, she would stand beneath the tree, head tilted back, staring at me nervously-and she would forget to cry.

Later, when the chestnuts were gone and she cried, I could only cry along with her. Then she would turn around and comfort me instead:

“It’s alright, Xiaoman. Now that I’ve felt the pain, I’ll remember it well. I won’t make the same mistake next time.”

Miss did not lie to me.

At first, Miss would be struck several times a month. Later, it was only a few times a year. Eventually, it never happened again.

The world outside had long since changed.

Other women had begun attending modern schools, cutting their hair short, and wearing Western dresses.

I felt the injustice for her.

She only tilted her head, her eyes curving like crescent moons.

“But Xiaoman, I don’t find it tedious. It’s certainly good for them to be that way, but it’s also good for me to be this way. There is so much interesting knowledge in the books of our ancestors; I feel as though I don’t have enough time as it is.”

Others mocked her, calling her an “Antique of the New Era,” a “Pedantic Miss,” and a “Specimen of Old Rites.” I couldn’t stand it. After arguing with people outside, I would come back and complain to her in a huff.

“Miss, why aren’t you angry? You’re not a clay Buddha!”

She was both exasperated and amused. “The person they talk about isn’t me, so why should I be angry?”

And so, in this clamorous and boiling era, my Miss lived a quiet and peaceful life in an old-style courtyard where time seemed to stand still, her hair always in a neat bun and her clothes always plain, side-buttoned tunics and skirts.

I believed deeply.

Whoever married my Miss must have earned such a blessing through eight lifetimes of virtue.

But that young master of the Chen Family-

He actually ran away from the wedding!