Fú Huò Pǒ Cè (福祸叵测) Book 1: Minghua

Minghua - Chapter 1

  The young maid fell to her knees in front of me, her head bowed. A rosewood comb was clenched tightly in her right hand. It had a smooth handle with no engravings. The comb in her death grip reminded me of another comb I possess. A lotus flower comb with beautiful petals carved on the handle was the first present I recall receiving. A line running along the handle cut through a lower petal, which was the only imperfection in the design. Wang Mingxi, my Jiejie (1), hated the cut so much that she had our Father create her a new comb free of flaws. Yet I liked the cut; I thought it made my comb unique to me.

  "I am extremely sorry, my lady. Please forgive me." The girl pleaded, her voice tinged with anxiety, "Please, please, my-" she continued pleading, but I was momentarily lost in thought.

  What was her name, exactly? Madam Hua's maid called her Shao-something, and I dimly remembered seeing her the day before. I forgot the name of the maid who was combing my hair, typical.

  " Quickly Get up. It was an accident. Raise your head," With a sympathetic smile plastered on my face, I tried to comfort her by reaching down to assist her to stand. She cautiously lifted her head. She flinched away from me as she saw my hand approaching her, prompting me to retract my hand. My brows wrinkled in bewilderment as my smile faded from my face. Was she afraid I wanted to hit her? I wondered why flinching was her initial reaction. Could she have been punished for this kind of minor mistake in the past? Or was she unsure about the type of person I'd turn out to be? Kind and forgiving or explosive and violent?

  "I'm dreadfully sorry, my lady. Please, I am extremely sorry." She lowered her head again, fearful that she had made a mistake. Tears streamed down her cheeks, splattering wet splotches on her soft pink dress.

  I attempted to console her again. "Get up. I am not going to punish you..." I took a breath and realized I still could not recall her name. "Can you tell me your name?"

  " My Lady, my name is Shaomai. Madam has entrusted me with helping you," Her voice trembled, and her chin remained dropped as she replied.

  Turning in my seat, I stretched my hand once again, my white dress sleeve brushing across the chair of the arm. I paused in front of Shaomai with my palm up to make sure she could see my actions. Shaomai gazed up at my face, her big brown eyes tinged red and her cheeks damp with tears. Her eyes widened slightly, as our eyes met briefly, and the innocent expression on her young face made me pause. Just what had this young woman experienced? A protective instinct ran through me, and as her new Master, I resolved to do everything I could to keep her safe and treat her fairly. A faint tinge of recognition flashed in my mind; she reminded me of someone, but when I tried to recall who she might have reminded me of, a searing pain pierced through my skull. I ignored the painful ache that recently seemed to accompany any attempt to remember my past.

  My discomfort set aside, I moved from my seat to kneel before her, my thin dress fluttering around me. Her head jerked up, and her eyes widened in surprise.

  "Please, my lady, get off the floor," she pleaded as she rushed to help me up. When she realized I had gotten her to stand up, she froze. Her head remained lowered as she kept standing.

  She apologized to the floor, saying, "My lady, I am very sorry for hurting you."

  I made another hesitant attempt to reach for her, noticing her lack of response. As she tilted her head to look at me again, I gently patted her shoulder and smiled, "I am alright, Shaomai; accidents happen. It did not hurt!" Her tense shoulders sagged with relief.

  My jet black hair, which had grown all the way down to my hips, was in pristine condition. Each strand glistened in the candlelight as I turned my head to the side and swept it over my shoulder. Every night before bed, a maid meticulously washed and combed my hair. She would also ensure that my room was suitably lit and prepared. As a result, I never had to worry about minor things like lighting a candle or arranging a bath.