Chapter Nineteen: Punishment (Part Two)

After finishing her meal and returning to her own courtyard, Liu Qin was so frustrated that she rolled back and forth on her couch, shaking her head and sighing, just short of a few drops of bitter tears to complete the picture. Cuiyu was well aware that her young mistress had been punished, but instead of offering comfort, this mischievous girl hid nearby, snickering at her misfortune.

Liu Qin raised her chubby little hands and examined them closely. Was she about to be ruined? Yesterday's assignment consisted of two sheets of large characters, each with six characters, to be copied thirty times—twelve times thirty, three hundred and sixty characters in all. Heavens, she was only five years old! Wasn’t this child abuse?

With nowhere to appeal for help, Liu Qin spun around on the couch a few more times before finally making up her mind. So what if she ruined her hands? Wasn’t she determined to learn to read? Wasn’t she eager to study the culture of Han? She would just consider this practice for her skills. Writing was nothing; she’d been at it for over a decade in her previous life. What was there to fear? She would elegantly wield her brush by the window, the scent of incense and the flutter of a red sleeve for company. With a bold wave of her hand, she called out in a loud, clear voice, “Cuiyu, fetch me the brush and ink!”

Although the culture of Han was similar to what she’d known before, the script was different. Still, as the saying went, all roads lead to Rome; though these were not the traditional characters of her previous world, the strokes—horizontal, vertical, slanting, pressing—were much the same. For Liu Qin, who already had a solid foundation, learning was twice as effective with half the effort. It was just that she was so young, her hands soft and weak, and holding a brush made her writing waver across the paper. After much effort, she managed to finish one sheet. But those characters… oh dear. Even Liu Qin blushed at the sight. To think she’d laughed at Brother Hai; now, seeing her own handiwork, she realized she wasn’t even as good as he was.

Though the writing was dreadful, Liu Qin still treasured it, setting it aside—after all, it could count toward the total. On she went, brush sweeping, ink splashing, one sheet, two, three… Counting them up, she had ten sheets. Five rounds completed! She felt a flush of pride.

Rubbing her face and kneading her small hands, she sipped some water, ready to continue the battle, when the little maid’s voice sounded at the door: “Young Master Biao has arrived.”

At those words, Jiang Li entered. Seeing Liu Qin looking like a little tabby cat, he burst out laughing. “Sister, how did you manage to get ink all over your face?”

The moment Liu Qin saw Jiang Li, it was as if she’d met her savior. She dropped her brush and ran to him, clutching his sleeve, looking up at him with teary eyes and a pitiful expression.

“Brother A-Li, my hands hurt.” As she spoke, she held up her small paws. Once white and plump, they were now still chubby but streaked with ink and grime.

Jiang Li looked helplessly at his white robe—two little handprints had already marked his sleeve. He glanced at her hands, and his heart softened. Taking her hands in his, he brought them to his lips and blew gently, then softly massaged them before asking tenderly, “Does it still hurt?”

“Hee hee, not anymore.”

“Good. Then rest for a while. I’ll help you with your writing.”

“Really? That’s wonderful! But…” Liu Qin spun in delighted circles, then suddenly remembered that their handwriting was different. Would anyone be fooled?

“Don’t you trust your brother?” Jiang Li smiled, moved behind the desk, looked over the sheets Liu Qin had already finished, then took a blank sheet and began to carefully imitate her writing, stroke by stroke. In no time, he had finished a sheet. Liu Qin compared it to her own and found them nearly identical—no one could tell the difference.

Now Liu Qin was overjoyed and finally at ease. With Cuiyu’s help, she washed her hands and face, returning to a fragrant, white, and chubby little child once more. She sat on the couch, sipping tea, nibbling pastries, and watching a handsome boy at work, feeling utterly at ease and content.

Though Jiang Li was only ten years old, he approached his tasks with methodical precision. Watching him write was a pleasure for Liu Qin: the focused gaze, the graceful, practiced movements, the upright posture, the meticulous attitude—all exuded a unique charm. She was suddenly reminded of her supervisor from her previous life—a plain-looking man whose allure lay in his dedication to work. Whenever she saw him immersed in his tasks, her gaze would involuntarily follow him, and her heart would pound faster.

A wave of melancholy swept through her chest. Every time she recalled her past, she was overcome by indescribable feelings. Liu Qin rubbed her eyes, pretending to be sleepy, and buried her face in her bedding on the couch.

“If you’re sleepy, miss, you should get into bed,” Cui Liu said, hurrying over to help her up.

“Who said I was sleepy?” Liu Qin flipped over, ignoring Cui Liu, hopped off the couch, grabbed a pastry, and ran to Jiang Li’s side. “Brother A-Li, have a snack.”

After a while, “Brother A-Li, have some water.”

And then, “Brother A-Li, let me massage your hands.”

And again, “Brother A-Li, let me count for you.”

…

Jiang Li was utterly speechless, looking on with a mix of amusement and exasperation at his busy little cousin. Setting down his brush, he led Liu Qin back to the couch. “Sister, stay here quietly. If you get sleepy, take a nap. If you want to play, find Cuiyu. But stop bothering your brother, all right? If you keep this up, I’ll never finish.”

With little Jiang Li refusing to be disturbed, Liu Qin grew bored. She lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, yawning twice, and her eyes gradually grew heavy. Before she knew it, she’d fallen into a deep sleep.

When she woke, the room was dim and silent, as if the world around her had vanished. For a moment, Liu Qin felt lost, as though she’d woken from a nap in her previous life and realized all that she now experienced was but a fleeting dream.

Light footsteps broke her reverie, followed by hushed voices. “Is the young lady still asleep?”

“She is.”

“Sister Caixia came with a message: the young lady worked hard this afternoon, so she doesn’t need to go to the old madam. She even sent plenty of food.”

“The old madam knows?”

“Hehe, it was Brother Hai who told her. He said young uncle was slacking off on his studies and was punished by the teacher. The old madam and the master laughed about it for quite a while.”

That Brother Hai—who knew he was such a tattletale?

“Hehe, the old madam really believes our young lady worked hard all afternoon, but little does she know she’s been dreaming away. It’s the young master whose hand is so stiff he can barely lift it. If the teacher found out, she’d surely be punished again.” A stifled giggle followed—Cuiyu, clearly gloating over the situation.

“You! Stop laughing and go see if the young lady’s awake. It’s time for her supper.”

Liu Qin quickly shut her eyes. She kept them closed until the footsteps reached her bedside, then pretended she had just woken, blinking sleepily as she mumbled, “What time is it? Where’s Brother A-Li?”

“The young lady is awake,” Cuiyu called out, lifting Liu Qin up and helping her into her outer clothes. “It’s already dusk, miss. You slept so soundly. The young master finished your assignments, and since you weren’t awake, he left first. He’s dining with the old madam now.”

“Brother A-Li is so good to me,” Liu Qin said with heartfelt sincerity.

“But of course! The young master treats you so well. He didn’t move once all afternoon—by the end, his hand was so stiff he could barely write, but he still finished everything. Miss, forgive me for saying this, but please don’t upset the teacher again. If you do, it’s your cousin who suffers for it.”

“I know, I know.”

“You always promise, but next time you’re sure to do it again. After all, it’s never you who ends up in trouble.” Dissatisfied with her perfunctory attitude, Cuiyu muttered under her breath.

Liu Qin pretended not to hear. She reached out her small hands, wrapped them around Cuiyu’s neck, and said with a sweet smile, “Cuiyu, you’re wonderful too.”

Cuiyu was momentarily stunned, then burst out laughing, her heart as sweet as honey. “Miss, you… oh!”