Cold Notes in the Little Tower - Chapter 1

I was a servant child born to servant parents.

I was born in the servants’ yard of Commandant Zhaowu’s household, and grew up in that den of bondage where sunlight scarcely reached, all year long.

When I was small, an old apricot tree stood in the yard. My father, a carpenter, made me a little swing beneath it.

The year I turned eight, Concubine Chen passed by, remarked that apricot trees attracted stinkbugs, and ordered it dug up.

I did not know any better then. I threw my arms around the trunk and cried, “It’s mine! You can’t dig it up!”

Old Woman Liu, who oversaw us, jabbed my forehead and sneered. “What’s yours?

“That tree belongs to the master. That swing belongs to the master. Even your father, your mother, and you, you little wretch, all belong to the master!”

As it turned out, the eldest young master had taken a liking to my meek disposition. He had spoken to my mother and bought me for two qian of silver.

One deed of bondage, and my life was no longer mine to decide.

The eldest young master, Wang Wenfu, was the master’s eldest son by his principal wife. He resembled his grandfather so closely that the entire household had doted on him since childhood.

His courtyard consequently housed more concubines and maids than anyone else’s.

One evening in late spring, in a fine drizzle, my mother took me to be presented to my new master.

The room was full of pretty women, a riot of color gathered around Young Master Fu. Spring was nearly over, but the scene outdid spring in full bloom.

He could not yet have been thirty, but his belly already bulged. He looked old for his age.

His appraising gaze swept over me from head to foot. It felt like being swarmed by flies from a privy, and I could not suppress a shudder.

Young Master Fu smacked his lips over a bunch of grapes. With the tip of his shoe, he nudged the knee of the maid holding them. “Sushui, doesn’t this new little maid look rather like you?”

Sushui turned her head. A fine layer of sweat covered her fair forehead.

The prettiest maids were made to use their bodies as stands, holding platters of food and fruit for their master’s pleasure.

The delicacies were a feast for his appetite, and the lovely faces bearing them a feast for his eyes. These maids were called “jade platters.”

It was the latest amusement the young gentlemen of the imperial capital had devised.

And its originator was none other than our own Young Master Fu.

He was always proud of things like this.

If another young gentleman did not follow his example, he would even threaten to break off their friendship.

As though failing to humiliate us would somehow disgrace them.

I could not bear to watch. Obediently, I went over and knelt beside Sushui.

Copying her, I held out my hands to help support the heavy white jade platter.

Young Master Fu beamed. “Your name’s Fu-something, isn’t it? A clever little maid. You know what’s expected of you.”

“Fuyuan.” I kept my head very low and knelt straight and still.

Ever since Old Woman Liu had punished me with ten strokes of the paddle for trying to stop them cutting down the apricot tree, I had learned to behave.

Obedience and kowtowing could spare us pain. They might even spare us death.

How could people as powerless as us refuse?

Sushui cast me a grateful glance and seized her chance. “Since you think she resembles me, young master, why not let me train her?”

Young Master Fu reached out and pinched her cheek.

The flesh of his face shook with his laughter. “Teach her everything she needs to know, mind. Don’t keep those special tricks of yours to yourself, Sushui.”

Sushui flushed, then paled. She stammered her agreement.

That evening, she settled me in her own room.

As a senior maid of the first rank, she had a tiny room to herself.

She made up a bed for me, explaining warmly, “By rights, you should sleep out in the shared room with the other little ones.

“But seeing you made me think of my little sister. I was selfish. I brought you here instead.”

She turned toward me, with her almond eyes and peach-blossom cheeks.

That faint smile was the only one I saw on her face all evening.

Then she painted her brows, made up her eyes, and went out again.

Before letting the door curtain fall, she looked back at me for a long moment.

“Sister Sushui,” I asked, “is there something else you need me to do?”

She shook her head gently, with a smile I could not understand.

“It’s cold at night. Keep your quilt tucked in.

“Don’t wait up for me, Fuyuan.”

Only when I was older did I understand.

Those absences that lasted all night, night after night, meant she had been summoned to Young Master Fu’s room.

New bruises always covered the old ones on her body, layer upon layer, like a poisonous miasma.

Young Master Fu loved to drink. Once he was blind drunk, he loved to beat people.

He chose those with the fairest, tenderest skin.

Only when the marks were horrifying enough was he satisfied.