"I didn't steal anything!"
Liu Yan paused and hid behind a corner. From here, he had a good view of Zhao Hua's porch and was hidden behind the snow-covered bushes.
Luo Xinxin knelt in the snow in front of the eldest daughter of the house, her head bowed. Her shoulders trembled, and for a moment Liu Yan thought she was crying. But when she raised her head, you could see her unbridled anger.
"Liar!" Zhao Hua exclaimed angrily.
She took the bucket of water Xinxin had probably just used for cleaning and tipped it over her. Xinxin tensed up but didn't make a sound as the dirty ice water soaked through her clothes.
"Wherever you show up, chaos and unrest follow," Zhao Hua shouted loudly, even stamping her foot.
"First you destroy my precious ivory chopsticks, then my lake and my chambers, and then you look at me as if your behavior is my fault?"
"I beg your pardon!" Xinxin muttered, wringing out her sleeves. Zhao Hua blushed.
"And now you're stealing my, my..."
"Trash, gracious lady? Is that the word you're looking for?" Xinxin replied angrily. A resounding slap even caused the snow to trickle from the gutter and Xinxin's head flew to the side.
"That was my makeup box, who do you think you are?"
"You yourself told me to dispose of the empty container, Miss Hua," Xinxin replied through gritted teeth. Zhao Hua took the small porcelain container from Yi Chang and opened it. She held the white-yellowish contents in front of Xinxin's nose.
"Does that look empty to you?" she asked snidely.
"No, I just refilled it," Xinxin said, exasperated.
"So you stole my makeup box and then your, your... what the hell is this?" she shouted, throwing the box at Xinxin's head. Now she flinched when the porcelain hit her temple, but she still caught it and held it tight.
"Five miles of herb paste," she replied. Zhao Hua narrowed her eyes.
"Did you want to poison me?" Zhao Hua asked, growling angrily. Yi Chang couldn't help but grin maliciously. Her mistress didn't notice because the maid was always looking at the floor. Xinxin sighed.
"It's not for you, and besides, it's medicine. It stops bleeding and relieves pain," Xinxin replied.
"Why do you need medicine?" Zhao Hua retorted.
Luo Xinxin looked up. Blood was running from a laceration on her temple, from her nose, and from her split cheek. She looked at Zhao Hua and raised an eyebrow without saying a word. But the young lady didn't seem to notice the connection.
"You stole it, just like you stole my jewelry," Zhao Hua snapped at her.
"What's going on here?"
Liu Yan moved a little further behind the corner as the clear but gentle voice echoed across the courtyard.
Zhao Hua looked up. Dissatisfaction was reflected in her eyes as her sister approached her with her maid in tow.
Zhao Huan was graceful and beautiful. Her hair was carefully styled, her gaze as gentle and melancholic as ever, and her lips slightly parted. She wore a white and sky blue robe with a warm white fur coat over it.
Her eyes were slightly reddened from having been out in the cold for a while. She looked down at Xinxin and then took the box from her hand. She sniffed it. Her gaze hardened.
"I know this, our brothers always smell like this when they visit us. It's a medicinal herb from the immortal sects," she said, returning the box to Xinxin.
"How did someone like you get hold of it?" she asked. Xinxin had wiped the blood off and was just sitting down. She looked straight at the two daughters.
"I made it myself," she replied. Zhao Hua snorted, while Zhao Huan narrowed her eyes and looked her over appraisingly.
"Yi Chang, fetch my whip!" demanded Zhao Hua. Zhao Huan placed a hand on her sister's arm and shook her head.
"Wait, Jiejie," she said. "Li Gege will be here soon!" she warned. Zhao Hua gritted her teeth and stamped her foot heavily.
Zhao Huan turned back to Xinxin. She made a gesture with her hand, dismissing her.
"Go!" she said curtly.
Xinxin rose heavily and limped off the porch. Liu Yan turned around and pressed her back against the cold wood. So that was what had been distracting Zhao Hua all this time.
Luo Xinxin didn't mince words and did what she thought was right. She didn't bow down to the Zhao daughter, and Yi Chang also egged Hua on from behind. A smile flitted across his lips, which meant he would have some peace and quiet for a while, at least as long as Xinxin endured the verbal and nonverbal abuse.
Even if Li Wangxi was, according to rumors, a sincere and righteous young man, he would not listen to Xinxin even if she tried to make herself heard. He, too, would not put the word of a servant above that of his sisters.
And only the gods knew what pious, kind-hearted, and graceful women the two could be when it mattered. He turned away again.
***
The next morning, Liu Yan was awakened by footsteps he knew all too well. Even though it had been a while, he was immediately wide awake when he heard the crunch of snow underfoot and the stomping of feet on the stairs.
He sat up the moment Zhao Hua threw open his door. He had endured a lot, a lot of harassment, a lot of violence, and even more humiliation. And he had become immune to it, numb. For a long time now, he had felt neither anger nor resentment nor curses toward his tormentors.
He had resigned himself to being a curse-bound, the doormat of society. But there was one thing that still rankled him. Something that ignited an unknown, burning rage within him. And that was the intrusion into the only refuge he had created for himself. His room.
Seconds later, Zhao Hua stood in the middle of the tiny room, her gaze sweeping disparagingly and with a wrinkled nose over the sparse furnishings.
Yi Chang hurried in behind her. The whip he hadn't felt in quite some time lay on a velvet cushion. He gasped sharply.
His hair fell over his shoulders, tousled and uncombed, and his whole body was tense. Normally, he braced himself for Zhao Hua when she summoned him. The fact that she had now entered his refuge and taken it over threw him completely off balance.
He had to grit his teeth and clench his hands into fists to keep himself from lunging at her and strangling her.
"Miss Hua," he greeted her stiffly. Zhao Hua clicked her tongue.
"So you really ate it?" she asked. The question came out of the blue, and Liu Yan just looked at her in confusion. After Zhao Hua took a deep breath, he immediately lowered his gaze and knelt in front of her.
"The kitchen boys. After they got over the shock, they came to me and confessed what had happened," she began, taking the whip from the red cushion.
Liu Yan tensed. Confessed? Even if they had told Zhao Hua that they had tried to feed him food scraps and garbage, she wouldn't have batted an eyelid. So what had he done?
A hot and cold shiver ran down his spine. Had they seen the half-eaten dumpling he had hidden? He dug his long fingers into the fabric of his hanfu.
"I don't know what you mean," he replied quietly.
"Oh, really?" Zhao Hua became angry.
"You helped yourself to the employees' food and forgot about it?" she asked sharply.
Liu Yan closed his eyes. He hadn't stolen anything, let alone helped himself. He had been given half a dumpling. He should have been allowed to accept it. Saying that Xinxin had shared her food with him wouldn't make it any better.
He could claim that Xinxin had stolen the food, but he would still be punished for taking some of it. That damn Xinxin, she really made everything worse, no matter where she showed up.
Before he could properly prepare himself, he heard the whip whistling through the air. It hit him with full force on the shoulder. He quickly turned around, the next blow hitting his not yet fully healed wounds on his back. He gritted his teeth and exhaled with a hiss.
Zhao Hua swung her instrument of torture with such vigor that not only he, but also his books, shelves, and parchment scrolls suffered.
Anger and rage rose within him as he endured the blows. Where would he go when she was finished? Where could he retreat to? As he collapsed in pain from the violent blows, a single tear ran down his face. Zhao Hua rolled up the whip again.
"You haven't cried in a long time," she remarked mockingly. Then she handed the instrument of torture back to Yi Chang.
With a sigh, as if she had just fulfilled an unwanted duty. She adjusted her slipping robe and held her face up to the sunshine on the doorstep.
"I'm in a good mood today. Tell the kitchen staff to take care of the matter with Luo Xinxin themselves. I'm not here to settle disputes among employees!" She turned to her maid.
Yi Chang curtsied and then followed his mistress without looking back once at the bleeding bundle on the floor.
When Tian Liu Yan was alone, he wrapped his arms around himself and pulled his legs up as he curled up. He didn't even have enough strength to get up to close the door. He closed his eyes.
***
It was late when new footsteps caught his attention. They were faster, more frantic, and seemed to wander aimlessly. The snow crunched and the dull plonk of wood on the stairs could be heard.
Tian Liu Yan sat in front of his desk in almost complete darkness. He had clumsily organized his books and parchments and spent the rest of the day bent over the tabletop. When the door to his room was pushed open again, his eyes glowed with anger.
Luo Xinxin stumbled in and quickly closed the door behind her. When she turned around, she froze. For a moment, they stood facing each other, tense, both ready to lean on each other should one of them have bad intentions.
When Xinxin recognized him in the darkness, she exhaled deeply. She was drenched in sweat, her clothes torn and only provisionally tied together.
She raised a finger to her mouth and pressed her palms together as she silently begged him for help. Shortly thereafter, the angry voices of several male employees, out of breath, reached them.
"Where is she?"
"I don't know, man, I told you not to let her go," someone replied.
"So you can have your fun first? I'm the older one," someone barked back. Liu Yan's gaze shifted from the locked door to Xinxin. Yi Chang had obviously taken care of the dispute among the employees in her own way.
He turned away again. He had no interest in getting involved. They stood in silence for a while, listening to the voices until they faded away. Xinxin slowly crawled toward him. When she noticed the wounds on his back, only half covered by his torn robe, her gaze darkened.
"Zhao Hua?"
Tian Liu Yan remained silent. His gaze was fixed on the scratched tabletop.
"Let me see," Xinxin asked him quietly. She stretched out her fingertips and gently touched the sore blood crust.
"Leave me alone!" Liu Yan snapped at her, glaring at her angrily. "You always make everything worse!" Xinxin looked at him. Her gaze was impossible to interpret. Was it anger? Pain flashing in her eyes? Then she took his face between her hands and looked deep into his eyes. "I don't, and you have no right to talk to me like that. I'm trying to help, so at least be a little grateful," she said firmly.
Liu Yan pulled his head away. Being so close to someone disgusted him.
"Grateful... ow!"
Luo Xinxin had turned him over and carefully removed the dried fabric from the crusted blood. Her hands were amazingly dexterous.
She pulled the robe off his back, cleaned the wounds, and then pulled the porcelain box out of her sleeve.
Liu Yan wanted to protest. What if she wanted to take revenge on him? After all, she had also been beaten because of him. But she had already spread a generous amount of the paste on his back.
The effect was immediately noticeable. The paste cooled and ate its way through his wounds, where it numbed the pain, leaving a pleasant warm tingling sensation.
"I made it more concentrated than usual," Xinxin explained quietly as she bandaged his back. Then she picked up his robe and sighed.
"Do you have anything else to wear?"
Liu Yan, now only half-dressed, shook his head. He was cold and would rather cover himself with the scrap of fabric than nothing at all. So he held out his hand to her demandingly.
Although he was cold and numb inside, his eyes sparkled with anger. But Xinxin ignored his obvious dislike of her and placed the fabric on her lap.
"You mustn't tell anyone about this," she whispered conspiratorially. Then she conjured up a series of finger signs.
Her movements were precise and fluid. A light, warm breeze swept through the room and a soft, golden glow flickered.
She placed her hands on the fabric and let the golden shimmer seep into it before lifting the fabric again and presenting it, spotless and hole-free.
"The spell is neither the most powerful nor the most noble, but it is quite useful," she said solemnly, handing him his freshly mended robe.
Tian Liu Yan ran his fingers over the fabric. There was still a little residual warmth in it.
"You can cultivate qi?" he asked skeptically. Xinxin shrugged and sat down opposite him.
"Not much," she admitted. Liu Yan wavered between curiosity and the urge to throw her out of his room. He put on his clothes and tied them neatly before taking a closer look at Xinxin.
She had tied her dark, dull hair into a ponytail. Not like the other servants, who always took great care to braid their hair into playful plaits. Her face looked pale, the bruises and half-healed wounds giving her a battered appearance. But when she looked up and smiled, there was a certain warmth in it.
"You should rest for a while and not do any heavy work, although it is to be hoped that Zhao Hua will hold back for a while, isn't it?" She sighed and poked around in the pile of parchment on the desk.
Then she pulled a card from the stack and unrolled it. She took a fire stick from her belt and lit it. As she placed it on the table, Liu Yan saw something like a wistful smile on her face. As if she were remembering something pleasant.
"What is it?" he asked. His curiosity had gotten the better of him. Xinxin looked up.
"Have you ever heard of meridians?" she asked him.