Zhao Qing's mind went blank. Frantically, she dug through the bricks in the corner, ignoring the grimy dust, and searched carefully again—yet the sheepskin book was nowhere to be found in the crevices of the wall.
"Cui Er! Cui Er!" Zhao Qing shouted.
The maid Cui Er hurried into the room, flustered. "Mistress, what's wrong?"
Zhao Qing's eyes were red with fury. She grabbed Cui Er's ear and demanded angrily, "You stole the thing from my wall—that sheepskin book! Was it you?"
Cui Er's ear nearly tore off from the force, tears streaming down her face as she hastily confessed, "Mistress, I didn't steal your book! It was the young lady—she came yesterday and took two of your pearls. The sheepskin book accidentally fell, and she thought it was dirty, so she threw it into the brazier and burned it."
Zhao Qing's head spun.
Burned?
She lunged toward the extinguished brazier, where a layer of ashes and brittle remnants of charred sheepskin lay.
