Ahhh—
When she heard that shrill, tragic scream, Mo Zi was struggling with how much distance to maintain from Fourth Master Qiu ahead—far enough to be safe, yet close enough not to trip over the uneven road surface.
Her lantern had burned down to just a charred bamboo frame. Now the only illumination was the lamp in Qi Shu’s hands. In this era, even wealthy great households couldn’t possibly have lights everywhere. Especially since Qiu Mansion’s finances were now hollow inside. Beneath the glamorous mansion and grand courtyard, there were already signs of decline, beginning a lifestyle of saving wherever possible.
However, in Mo Zi’s view, Zhang Shi spending big money to build a riding track for her son while saving these small amounts was completely useless.
“Fourth Master…” Having also heard the scream, Qi Shu was still young after all. The lamp in his hands shook with rustling sounds.
Fourth Master Qiu snorted. “A woman’s cry, and you’re shaking like a sieve—what kind of courage is that?”
“Fourth Master, it’s not that…” Qi Shu wanted to say the sound came too suddenly out of nowhere, and it was late at night, so naturally it made one’s hair stand on end. But then thinking of Fourth Master Qiu’s young master temper, saying it wouldn’t help anyway.
“Learn from that girl Mo Zi. She’s a woman yet has more courage than you.” Fourth Master Qiu glanced back and, discovering Mo Zi was somewhat far from him, knitted his brows.
“This small one is useless.” Qi Shu debased himself to please his master, then ingratiatingly added with a grin, “This small one could never learn from Miss Mo Zi. Someone Master keeps in his heart, this small one must revere and worship like a Buddha.”
“You brat, your flattery hit the right spot this time.” Fourth Master Qiu found it very pleasing to the ear and heart. “On Master’s wedding night, I’ll give you a big red packet.”
The two conversed without bothering to lower their voices to protect the natural environment. Moreover, unable to stand their self-absorbed chatter, Mo Zi felt so disgusted she wanted to vomit profusely. Qi Shu flattered him, and Fourth Master Qiu said he hit the right spot. So Fourth Master Qiu considered himself a horse, and when Qi Shu patted his behind, he was pleased? This level of dialogue was truly utter nonsense, making her simultaneously disgusted and secretly amused. Good thing it was late at night—otherwise if people saw her, they’d think she was having convulsions.
Turning past the echo wall, her eyes brightened. The main courtyard was ablaze with lamplight, illuminating the night sky above like daylight.
Qi Shu stepped forward to knock on the door.
Mo Zi retreated several more steps. She absolutely didn’t want to enter right on Fourth Master Qiu’s heels, providing fodder for people’s gossip. Through Qi Shu and the steward’s behavior and words, she discovered that although she herself hadn’t nodded at all, Fourth Master Qiu’s intentions had already escalated from secretly passionate to brazenly obvious, determined to possess her. Spoiled young masters like Fourth Master Qiu, who’d had whatever they wanted since childhood, assumed that taking a concubine or marrying a minor wife was like a pie falling from heaven for a lowly maid—impossible to refuse, and refusal wouldn’t be tolerated.
The round-moon arched gate flew open with a clatter. The little maid inside saw Qi Shu and Fourth Master Qiu, turned her body and urgently called out, “Fourth Master is here! Fourth Master is here!”
Why not shout “the rescuer has arrived, the savior has arrived”? Mo Zi lowered her eyes and pursed her lips, her expression full of disdain.
Fourth Master Qiu finally showed a kind of urgency toward her tonight, but she clearly knew it couldn’t be called love—at most it was possessiveness built on novelty. Fourth Master Qiu’s invasive body language only showed he wanted to use his lofty status to force her submission, not a man’s devotion to his beloved woman. One could imagine that if she truly had the misfortune of falling into his hands—guarding an empty chamber alone, new person laughing while the old person cries, the desolation of having no name or status—these would all shape her fate one by one.
She could think of ways to resist, so naturally she wouldn’t be like an ordinary concubine, working without complaint. But her biggest problem was that indenture contract. When she was severely injured, Qiu Sanniang forced her to sign. She’d held on with one breath of strength, bargaining with Qiu Sanniang for a quarter hour, changing it line by line. Death contract changed to living contract. Sold for life changed to sold for ten years. Just meals changed to monthly wages. Life and death controlled by master—this clause removed. Can be sold to a procurer—removed. And so on.
Cannot self-redeem, can be transferred to another master—
Qiu Sanniang had played tricks with her. When she was about to roll her eyes back, her vision already unclear, Qiu Sanniang had interpreted this last clause ambiguously and tricked her into pressing her fingerprint.
Why hadn’t she noticed? No, she’d been alert. But she only had time to add one thing—the right of transfer could only be exercised once.
Because the last clause was too long, she didn’t have time to think it through clearly. She only thought it was better to live miserably than die well, and only had the strength to add one proviso.
Cannot self-redeem meant that no matter how much private money she had, she still depended on Qiu Sanniang’s mood, or had to wait until the ten-year term expired.
Can be transferred to another master—different from the clause about being sold to a procurer, but essentially similar. The annotation said this: Under Qiu Sanniang’s comprehensive assessment, she had the right to exchange with another party of equivalent financial power for something of equal value to Mo Zi. The measurement of value could be adjudicated by three people of high moral standing requested by both parties to determine equivalence. If all three ruled it equivalent, Mo Zi couldn’t object to the transfer. If one ruled it inequivalent, the transfer couldn’t continue. If two ruled it inequivalent, Mo Zi could tear up the contract and leave.
After Mo Zi woke up and heard Qiu Sanniang recite this last clause, she nearly fainted again. Although she’d added the proviso that it could only be executed once, as long as Qiu Sanniang was ruthless and transferred her to a sadist or something, she was finished. Those three people of high moral standing—the definition was very vague, and they were requested by both parties, not by Mo Zi herself, so they could be bought off with a bit of silver.
While she was unconscious, this contract had been witnessed, sent to officials, and stamped with an official seal. The original was kept by Qiu Sanniang. A copy, along with the household registry副本 that listed Qiu Sanniang as household head with her name added, was given to her. Now when she went out, she absolutely had to carry it, otherwise she might be arrested as someone of unknown identity and thrown in jail.
In these times, bribing officials and forging household registration and identity was possible. However, for someone like her with no background or connections, with an unclear past as a refugee, it wasn’t easy. Moreover, Da Zhou’s laws governing slaves and servants were very strict. Once registered in the official roster, unless the master’s family voluntarily released someone, escaping couldn’t free one from slave status. The fate of being caught—that truly was worse than death.
After mature consideration, Mo Zi believed escaping was the worst strategy. She needed a period of stability to establish everything required for independence. Even if she fled to another country, making money would attract attention, attracting attention would lead to questions about her identity, and she as a lone woman ultimately needed some supporting force to rely on. Reality was far less beautiful than imagination. Comparatively speaking, Qiu Sanniang—first, she was female; second, she was a profit-minded merchant. There were tests, but also benefits.
The fact was, while Qiu Sanniang openly suppressed her, she had secretly gained control over Qiu Sanniang. Qiu Sanniang sometimes sensed this, which was why she made things difficult. But as a young lady’s pride, Qiu Sanniang’s difficulties always came head-on, actually giving her more opportunities to prevail.
Self-redemption—cutting off her idea of buying freedom with money wasn’t that serious. At worst, she’d endure ten years. Transfer was Qiu Sanniang’s most formidable move, grasping her throat, ready to stop her breathing at any time. Qiu Sanniang had no right to kill her, but absolutely could make her wish she were dead.
Mo Zi proceeded step by step. Between being an obedient maid and a stubborn maid, she often leaned toward the former, also considering this transfer clause.
“Who are you?” The little gatekeeper called back her thoughts from eight thousand miles away.
Mo Zi looked and saw Fourth Master Qiu and Qi Shu had long disappeared. Breathing a sigh of relief in her heart, just as she was about to slip back to the small courtyard, suddenly a dark shadow swayed out from behind a nearby willow tree and lunged directly at her. Unable to dodge in time, they collided, and the dark shadow fell to the ground.
After her initial shock, Mo Zi was puzzled. Was she that formidable? Not only had she bounced the person back, but they couldn’t get up?
The little maid exclaimed, very cleverly helping her bring the lamp to shine, and curiously asked, “Who is this now?”
“I don’t know.” What Mo Zi told Fourth Master Qiu was the truth—in the pitch darkness, unable to distinguish front from back, how could she tell who was who? However, now the person was lying face-down on the ground.
“Ah!” The little maid suddenly retreated several steps, pointing at Mo Zi’s skirt, her face pale and eyes wide with fright.
Mo Zi looked down and saw a patch of bright red on her blue floral skirt. But it was quickly warmed by the lamplight, seeping into the blue fabric, no longer conspicuous. She reached out to touch it—wet, but her body didn’t hurt.
“You… you’re bleeding.” The little maid panicked and wanted to run inside. “I’ll call someone.”
Mo Zi quickly grabbed her. “Don’t panic. The one bleeding isn’t me—most likely it’s this person on the ground. Hold the lantern steady for me. I’ll turn the person over to see what’s wrong, then you can call someone.”
The little maid obediently brought the lantern closer.
Though she spoke calmly, Mo Zi felt strange inside. After she crouched down and carefully turned the person face-up, just as she was about to see who it was, she heard the little maid gasp and the lamplight suddenly disappeared.
Mo Zi looked up only to see the little maid’s fleeing figure running into the gate. “Hey, wait! Why are you running? I haven’t seen clearly yet.”
Had this girl seen a ghost? Mo Zi was annoyed.
Fortunately, there were two hurricane lanterns hanging at the gate. At this point, she didn’t mind expending a bit more effort. She rotated the person one hundred eighty degrees and moved to the other side herself to look. Immediately, she heard herself gasp.
The swaying lamps pendulum-like, but because they were hurricane lamps, the light stayed bright. However, that face looked very much like a ghost. Paper-white skin tinged with blue, crimson eye sockets, hair matted and sticky like seaweed. But truly speaking, ghosts don’t sweat. Yet this person had bean-sized beads of sweat on her forehead, drops falling toward her hairline. A plain white single silk dress—basically sleepwear—blooming with blood-red plum blossoms, quite shocking to see.
Mo Zi had seen her a few times. Among Qiu Mansion’s many maids, her appearance was outstanding—a pair of speaking eyes, a slender waist like graceful willow branches, every gesture seductive.
People say that when heaven grants beauty to a woman, it’s never without purpose.
Indeed, though this woman was born a slave, her beauty had helped her obtain wealth and glory. She even had a bit of cleverness. If used well and with more patience, this wealth could have lasted longer, and escaping her lowly status would have been just around the corner.
Unfortunately, her heart was too impatient. Impatience can’t eat hot steamed buns—this principle applies regardless of beauty or ugliness.
Ai Lian, ah.
Such a beautiful name.
Picked at dawn’s best moment, now with dew not yet dry, her soul strands peeling away one by one, the flower had already withered.
Sorry for the late update today.
A friend’s birthday—went out to eat and sing, just got back now.