The Guide to Capturing a Black Lotus

8

"Miss, Young Miss?"

Maidservant 1 delicately called out, her voice as soft as a cat, lightly and softly nagging.

"What? What's going on?" Ling Miaomiao scrambled up in shock and with a wave, lifted up the muslin. Her hair stuck up in all directions and her eyes looked like copper bells, scaring the maidservant into retreating a few steps.

"No... nothing huge." She stammered out an explanation, "The lord said that Young Noble Liu and Miss Mu are in the front hall eating tea and cake. He wants you to go accompany them."

Ling Miaomiao went 'Oh' and then rubbed her sleepy eyes. She sat there for a while in a daze before slowly getting off the bed.

She dipped the ivory comb into the bowl of flower-laden fragrant water to brush through her hair. When she groaned while combing through the tangled parts of her hair and the split ends, the comb got stuck so maidservant 1 grabbed a bottle of aromatic ointment to help her lightly massage those parts.

In an instant, a strong smell assailed her senses and Ling Miaomiao sneezed: "Why does it have to be so annoying? Just cut it."

Maidservant 1 turned pale with fright: "That... I'm afraid that's..."

"Come, let me." She looked through the drawers for a pair of scissors before snatching her hair from maidservant 1's hands. With a few snips, she cut off a ball of hair, a few scattered hairs falling onto the makeup table.

"It is what it is. Cutting it will allow it to grow properly, don't treasure this hair too much."
Ling Miaomiao put down the pair of scissors.

Then, like a wet dog, she flung her head around to get rid of any loose hairs on her clothes before falling into a daze again.
The person in the mirror had swollen eyelids that drooped down slightly, which made her look somewhat lifeless.
"Young Miss, did you not sleep well last night?"

The maidservant asked gingerly.
"That's not it." Ling Miaomiao had a headache so she massaged her temples. Even though last night was the first step between her and Mu Sheng becoming good friends, she should've had a sweet and blissful sleep.

However, the moment she closed her eyes, she would get assaulted by nightmares.

In the nightmare, torchlight was reflected on the mirror-like pond. The heatwaves they gave off was enough to scald one's face. Row after row of people in disheveled states kneeled by the gate, their faces covered with mud.

Indistinctly, weeping could be heard coming in waves, painting the skies. Soldiers held onto some girls while tearing at their hair.

The girls had their hands tied behind their backs as they were forced forward staggering and stumbling.
Just like they were broken burlap sacks being dragged along the ground.

The cries seemingly covered the heavens. The struggling people were like fish thrown onto a chopping board, frantically twisting about.

In the next moment, a broadsword swung down and beheaded them, warm fishy blood spurted out, gathering to the side of the executioner's boots. When he lifted his boots, they made a squeaking sound like they were drenched in water.

Many wooden boxes were piled up upon each other. Some were open, revealing a small point of hazy light under the unnailed wooden plank. It was shaking butterfly hairpin.

It's wing stuck out yet there was no one there to admire it. Far away, a horse whinnied and a crippled soldier prepared to move the box onto the cart. He was knocked into a side of the cart by a robust figure and the two started fighting.

The night was crimson and everyone was agitated. Perhaps insanity, perhaps death.

Miaomiao looked at her maidservant, whose face was still small and hadn't grown. That day they captured the water mirror, this maidservant's teeth chattered from fear and her face was ashen. But now, it had recovered, red as an apple. Youthfulness begets some toughness after all.