"Miss, the water's ready." Yuzhu set the copper basin on the stand, a few mint leaves floating lazily on the surface.
Xie Zhaolin glanced at it, then froze.
Ah Xiu's memories rose unbidden. This was Yuzhu's usual trick, always slipping mint leaves into her wash water in summer to help her feel refreshed.
The black qi at her sleeve flickered and stilled.
She suddenly thought of the drudge disciples in the back mountains of Hehuan Sect.
Mortal women with no spiritual roots, doomed to spend their whole lives washing clothes and scrubbing caves for cultivators. They too would sneak flower petals into the senior sisters' baths, hoping for half a spirit stone in return.
"Leave it there." Xie Zhaolin turned her face away.
The water in the basin slowly stilled, reflecting the wooden beams of the roof above. There was an old ligature mark etched into the wood, like the trace left behind when a maid hanged herself. Staring at it, Xie Zhaolin suddenly understood the source of her irritation.
It wasn't because these mortal tricks were crude.
It was because she knew this play far too well.
Weaklings flattering the strong, lambs wagging their tails for the butcher.
For three hundred years, she'd seen countless farces like this in Hehuan Sect. Yet now, the roles had reversed. She was the bird trapped in a cage, and the one holding the knife was a useless girl who hadn't even reached Foundation Establishment.
"Does miss want to wash up?" Yuzhu asked from behind her.
Xie Zhaolin didn't reply.
She reached into the basin, scattering ripples across the surface, watching water slip through her fingers.
Ah Xiu was like this. Yuzhu was like this. Those vanished maids were like this too. Women without cultivation were fated to rot inside the inner residence, surviving only by the whims of others. Like a handful of water, scooped up or spilled out at someone else's will.
The basin cooled, reflecting her blurred image. Xie Zhaolin stirred it with her fingers, shattering Ah Xiu's face into fragments.
"But I'm not the same." She whispered to the broken reflection.
She was Xie Zhaolin. A Nascent Soul cultivator who had clawed out a sliver of survival from the thunder Tribulation itself. Even stripped of her cultivation, she would never be a powerless woman waiting for the butcher's blade.
Yuzhu stood beside her, eyes vacant, lips fixed in a mechanical smile.
Xie Zhaolin stared at her and suddenly found it almost funny. Alive, this maid fought tooth and nail with other women for Chu Huaizhou's favor. Dead, she still ended up as her puppet.
"Do you hate me?" she asked suddenly.
Yuzhu's eyes rolled slightly, but she gave no answer.
Xie Zhaolin chuckled softly, and black qi seeped into Yuzhu's forehead. "Forget it. Asking you's pointless."
…
The sun tilted west. The water in the basin had long gone cold.
Yuzhu wrung out the last cloth and hung it on the rack, droplets falling onto the blue bricks below, leaving dark stains.
"Miss, the bed's made." She stood by the couch, patting the soft quilt.
From outside drifted the laughter of servant women, mixed with the aroma of food from the kitchens.
Xie Zhaolin closed her eyes briefly. Black qi flowed through her meridians. This body, nourished by baleful qi, was already far sturdier than before.
"Miss, should I bring dinner inside?" Yuzhu's voice was flat, mechanical.
Just as Xie Zhaolin was about to respond, footsteps sounded in the courtyard.
"Ah Xiu." Chu Huaizhou's voice came from outside the door, trailing just behind the footsteps. "May I come in?"
The black qi on her fingertips instantly faded. She turned toward the bronze mirror, quickly fixing her hair, draining what little color her face had left. "Please, Brother Huaizhou, come in."
The door creaked open.
Chu Huaizhou stepped inside, his moon-white robe damp with night dew, a red lacquered food box in his hand. His eyes lingered on her face, brows knitting. "Why do you still look so pale? Didn't I tell Yuzhu to bring you calming soup?"
"I drank it already." Xie Zhaolin lowered her head, showing her slender neck. "The fever's gone. I'm sure it's because Brother Huaizhou sent the soup that I recovered so quickly."
His eyes softened with satisfaction. Setting the food box down, he lifted the lid.
A sweet fragrance spilled out instantly. Osmanthus cakes.
Xie Zhaolin stared at the delicate pastries, a memory from Ah Xiu surfacing. She had loved the osmanthus cakes from Zuixian Restaurant, but Chu Huaizhou always said they were too sweet, never once buying them for her.
"Are you comfortable living here?" he asked.
Xie Zhaolin twisted her sleeve nervously. "Just being taken in by Brother Huaizhou is already the greatest blessing…"
His adam's apple bobbed. He seemed about to say something, but only sighed. "Three days from now, my mother wants to see you. Her temper's strict, but you only need to…" He paused, then said, "…behave just like this, obedient."
Obedient? Xie Zhaolin sneered inside. Did he mean obedient like Ah Xiu, docile enough to be slaughtered?
"I understand." She lifted her dewy eyes. "I'll behave well and won't embarrass Brother Huaizhou."
His expression softened. He reached out to stroke her hair but stopped midway. "By the way, that maid Yuzhu…"
"I get along really well with Sister Yuzhu." Xie Zhaolin cut in quickly, her voice timid, almost hopeful. "Could she… stay with me for now?"
A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, followed by faint amusement.
Xie Zhaolin caught it clearly. He thought she was just a jealous little girl, trying to stake her claim clumsily.
"Of course." His voice was gentle, though smug in its condescension. "As long as it makes you happy."
Xie Zhaolin lowered her gaze, hiding her mockery.
Look well. This was Ah Xiu's so-called fiancé.
The man knew full well what Yuzhu felt for him. He let the two women fight tooth and nail just to stroke his pride. Even though Yuzhu stood in the same household, he never once cared if she was willing or not.
"Thank you, Brother Huaizhou." She smiled through reddened eyes, though in her heart she mourned Yuzhu.
That poor maid thought climbing onto the Young Master's bed would change her fate. She never realized that in Chu Huaizhou's eyes, women like them were just pawns, discarded at will.
After a few more words, Chu Huaizhou finally left.
Xie Zhaolin stood by the window, watching him stride through the corridor, his posture straight and refined. Who would've guessed that this elegant young lord had butchered someone into minced meat not long ago?
"You'll prepare dinner yourself." She spoke coldly to Yuzhu without turning around. "Don't let anyone else touch it."
"Yes." Yuzhu bowed slightly and turned to leave.
But as Xie Zhaolin watched her walk away, her posture sparked an old memory from Ah Xiu's mind.
One winter night, Ah Xiu had huddled in the corner of her woodshed. Yuzhu had secretly handed her a brazier. The flames had been weak, but they lit the tears on the young girl's face.
"Why did you give her charcoal that night?" Xie Zhaolin asked suddenly.
Yuzhu paused, her dull eyes shifting. "…I was afraid if she died, Young Master would be sad."
"I see." Xie Zhaolin murmured, finding it laughably absurd.
"Too bad… she really did die in the end."
Yuzhu showed no reaction.
"Go prepare dinner."
"Yes."
Once she left, Xie Zhaolin carefully confirmed that no one was spying. Only then did she draw a small celadon bottle from her sleeve…