The Blade Above the Word Endurance

Whether Yunrong and Madam Qiao get along well is none of my business; as long as they don’t trouble me, that’s all I ask. Yet even this humble wish of mine has not been granted.

A few days later, I crossed paths with Yunrong and Madam Qiao once more. We exchanged proper courtesies, but it was clear they had united in their intentions against me.

“Mufan greets the young lady and Madam Qiao.”

“Rise.”

“Thank you, Madam Qiao.” With my head lowered, I stood quietly, letting Madam Qiao circle around me, her scrutinizing gaze sweeping up and down.

“I heard that before the general left the other day, you caught a chill. The general even called for a doctor and stayed by your side for quite some time,” Madam Qiao remarked, her tone tinged with jealousy.

Rumors are fearsome things; they had finally reached her ears. I wondered what punishment she still had in store for me.

“What did you say, you little wretch!” Yunrong rushed forward to slap me, but Madam Qiao stopped her with a glance. Strangely enough, Yunrong actually obeyed and refrained, which was a rare sight indeed.

“Reporting to the young lady and Madam Qiao, the general was merely showing kindness to a servant. He is compassionate to all under his roof, and besides, it was during the joyous occasion of Madam Qiao’s marriage to the general. He simply did not wish for a lowly maid like me to bring ill fortune,” I replied calmly. I caught the faintest trace of a smile at the corner of Madam Qiao’s lips, hoping she would let the matter rest.

“That does make some sense,” Madam Qiao nodded.

“What sense! That’s nothing but your excuse. Can you guarantee you have not the slightest thought about my brother?” Yunrong was no longer calling me a wretch, but I was at a loss as to how to answer her.

“Young lady, how could I dare entertain such thoughts?” What else could I say? Denying it might spare me a beating, but if I were to admit that Yunheng had said he wanted to marry me, these two would surely tear me apart.

“Hmph, you’d better not harbor any such intentions.”

“That’s enough, Rong’er. She’s just a maid—what’s the point in quarreling with her? Don’t you need to go see your mother? Go quickly, lest she becomes anxious,” Madam Qiao said, patting Yunrong’s hand. Yunrong shot me a glare before storming off.

How could a young lady like her survive without Yunheng’s status as a general?

“Come with me,” Madam Qiao ordered.

“Yes,” I replied, following behind, uncertain of what business she had with me.

When we reached her chambers, she waved everyone else away until only I remained. She sat down slowly and said, “I’ve heard you’ve long attended the general and brew an excellent cup of tea. Brew one for me, will you?”

“Yes, I shall prepare it at once,” I answered, carefully making the tea and presenting it to her.

She reached for the cup, but just as her fingers touched it, she suddenly let go.

In a flash, scalding tea spilled over my right hand, the cup shattering on the floor.

“Oh dear, are you alright? I didn’t mean to,” she said.

The pain seared through my hand, but I gritted my teeth and insisted I was fine.

“Then pick up all these shards,” she instructed.

She had done it on purpose, but what could I do? My hands, now red and inflamed, had no choice but to gather the fragments. As I reached for one, Madam Qiao’s foot pressed down on it, driving the shard into my flesh and drawing fresh blood. The pain was excruciating.

She bent down and whispered in my ear, “You’re nothing but a lowly maid. You will never win against me.”

I clenched my teeth, knowing I had to endure.

“Leave. Such a foolish maid is of no use to me.”

“Your servant takes her leave.” I stood and exited. As I stepped out, I looked back, determined to remember that hateful, ugly face.

Upon returning to my room, Wanchun saw my hand and hurried to fetch ointment to tend to my burns.

Before she had finished, one of Madam Qiao’s maids arrived, carrying a copybook of “The Admonitions for Women.” On Madam Qiao’s orders, I was to copy it fifty times at once.

The maid glared at me menacingly, leaving me no choice but to pick up my brush and begin. Several hours later, I finally finished. The maid, having dozed off, took the pages and left.

I had deliberately written in a messy hand, for in these times, daughters of servant families were rarely literate. I dared not write too well, lest it arouse suspicion.

My hand was swollen and red. Wanchun, distressed, applied more ointment and fed me a little food. Exhausted, I lay down early, urging Wanchun to rest as well.

Yet sleep eluded me that night. I thought back to my birth, to the words of the Imperial Astrologer—had all the calamities already begun? How laughable.

Through this dark day, I kept reminding myself: “Endure,” for above the character for endurance lies a blade. If I cannot endure, the blade will fall. It is not that I cannot let it fall—only that now is not the time.

Idle, with no path forward, loneliness wrapped itself around me. In the end, it was that loneliness that cradled me to sleep.