Ruhuahua returned to that dark, dreary room and turned back to carefully close the wooden door.
The old wooden door was of the kind that would creak at the slightest push. Though she moved on tiptoe, taking the utmost care, the wooden door still emitted a faint groan, causing her heart to tighten sharply.
Holding her breath for a moment and hearing no movement whatsoever, she finally let out a stealthy sigh of relief.
Once the wooden door was shut, the small room instantly plunged into darkness.
The cramped room admitted very little light; it was dark, cold, and the air felt somewhat stifling. Terrified and freezing, Ruhuahua squatted down on the spot, shivering. She hugged her arms tightly around herself, almost curling into a ball, yet still felt bitterly cold.
She stared somewhat blankly at the paper-covered window. It was so dark in the small room that only that spot faintly let in some light. Though neither bright nor warm enough, it was enough to sustain her, keeping her from being quite so terrified.
Yet it was too cold; the longer the time dragged on, the colder she felt. That bone-chilling cold carried a sense of despair that seeped straight from her marrow.
Ruhuahua shivered and blew a breath into her cupped palms. The warmth generated by her breath offered her a sliver of comfort. With rather clumsy fingers, she took the bag of candies given to her by Zhongli Ting out from her bosom, carefully fished out a pine nut candy, and popped it into her mouth. The sweet, cloying taste spread across her palate, and only then did she feel the fluttering anxiety in her chest subside somewhat.
...
How much time passed, she could not tell, but it seemed to be around sunset when the wooden door of the small room was pushed open from the outside with a creak. The dying rays of the setting sun shone into the dark little room without a shred of warmth.
Someone had come.
Ruhuahua stood up in a bit of a panic.
An old woman holding a bowl of half-cooked bran casually set it down on the room's only rickety wooden table with a shorter leg. "Eat up quickly! As soon as you're done, come out and wash the bowls and chopsticks!"
Ruhuahua murmured a soft thank-you and carefully shuffled over. Her hands trembled so much from the cold as she picked up the bowl that she couldn't even keep a steady grip on the chopsticks.
"Why can't you even hold a bowl properly? Clumsy-handed girl, don't go breaking my bowl!"
Ruhuahua braced her hand against the small table to steady herself and whispered, "...I'm sorry..."
"Hey, tell me, do you have some kind of illness, girl?" Seeing her tremble so violently, the woman stepped back a large pace and eyed her suspiciously from a short distance.
Ruhuahua's teeth were chattering. She took a deep breath, but her voice, naturally soft to begin with, was fractured even further by her shaking teeth. "Aun-... Auntie, I- I'm cold."
"As long as you're not sick." Only then did the woman set her mind at ease, urging her impatiently, "Hurry up and eat. Once you finish your meal, you won't be cold anymore."
Ruhuahua obediently gave an affirmative murmur and buried her head to take a bite. The food was already cold, and it was impossible to tell what it tasted like—it scraped harshly against her throat. Holding it in her mouth, she stared fixedly at the chipped porcelain bowl before her, her expression slightly pained.
In her memory, she seemed never to have eaten anything so difficult to swallow.
She couldn't help wanting to vomit.
Her eyes rolled, and strangely enough, her brother's words from that day suddenly echoed in her mind.
——Swallow it down; wasting food is shameful. Every grain of rice is the blood and sweat of the common people.
She could not waste food.
Ruhuahua closed her eyes, forced it down with great difficulty, and worked even harder to finish the bowl.
Though unpalatable, it was at least enough to fill her stomach.
No sooner had she finished than the woman, standing near the door, urged her out to wash the dishes.
"Come with me to the stove. Don't sit around all day waiting to be fed and dressed like a pampered lady! Girls are unwanted these days, and it hasn't been easy for us to raise you—go wash all the bowls and chopsticks first."
Unwanted...
Ruhuahua slowly lowered her head and carried the chipped porcelain bowl to the stove area. It was a small room; one side was piled high with firewood while the other held the stove and cookpot. On the floor right by the main entrance sat a wooden basin with some patches of mold, stacked with three or four bowls and plates containing a shallow half-basin of murky water.
The woman pointed to the coarse rag draped over the edge of the wooden basin. "Well? The dishcloth is right there. And that pot on the stove—wash all of these clean before you go back to sleep!"
"Okay."
Ruhuahua carefully memorized these instructions, lifted the hem of her skirt, and squatted down to reach for the dishcloth.
Without looking closely, she only realized after picking it up that a huge black spider happened to be crouching on top of the rag. The tactile sensation against her fingertips gave her a terrible fright. She let out an uncontrollable shriek and instantly hurled the dishcloth, along with the porcelain bowl she had been holding in her other hand.
The crisp sound of the porcelain bowl shattering on the floor instantly caused the woman to turn her head. Seeing the fragments on the ground, her face immediately darkened, and she demanded loudly, "What on earth are you doing?"
Ruhuahua was nearly scared to tears. She stepped back a pace and offered a cautious apology. "I- I'm sorry, Auntie, I didn't mean to."
"You're this big and you can't even hold a bowl! I think you just didn't want to wash them and did it on purpose!" Furious at the sight of the smashed bowl, the woman raised her hand to strike, only to meet those large eyes filled with terror. "Aun-... Auntie, there's a spider..."
Suddenly finding it hard to follow through with the blow, the woman withdrew her hand and gave the wooden basin an impatient kick. "It's just a spider! What's so terrifying about it? Such a delicate princess! All right, all right, hurry up and wash all of these, and clean up the broken pieces on the floor in a moment. Break another bowl and you won't be eating tomorrow!"
Ruhuahua was squatting right in front of the wooden basin, and as the water in the basin rippled slightly, it splashed all over her.
The chill of the water droplets seeped straight through the fabric of her tunic against her skin. Ruhuahua anxiously tugged at her collar, looking at the woman at a complete loss.
Her clothes were a little wet, clinging to her skin—wet and cold, making her extremely uncomfortable.
A few drops of water had also splashed onto the cloth shoes the woman was wearing. She patted her shoe uppers, stepped back a little further, and said impatiently, "Wet is wet, it'll dry once it warms up! It's almost dark now, why aren't you washing already? Dawdling like this over just a few broken bowls—do you expect me to light a candle for you to do night chores?!"
Ruhuahua shook her head, picked up the rag, and pressed it into the wooden basin. Her fingers were instantly shocked through to the bone by the freezing water, making her shiver convulsively. She instinctively pulled her hand back, rubbed it cautiously, and then gritted her teeth before thrusting her hand back in.
"No wonder nobody wants her, can't even handle the smallest task..." Without looking further, the woman muttered under her breath, turned around, and walked out grumbling.
Such the body of a young mistress, yet the fate of a maid.
...
Time flew by, and three months passed in the blink of an eye.
Winter had passed, but the February weather remained frightfully cold.
It was too cold; the chill made her begin to loathe winter.
Ruhuahua stamped her small feet, which were nearly frozen stiff from sitting for too long, and lowered her head to blow another breath into her red, stiff palms. Bending over, she labored to turn the windlass, drawing water from the well.
That full bucket of water was extremely heavy; even an adult would have found it strenuous to draw.
"Ruhuahua!" A voice traveled to her ears from afar, sounding inexplicably familiar. Ruhuahua paused in a daze, her grip loosening. The windlass, which she had managed to turn halfway with great difficulty, lost its restraint and spun backward with a frantic clatter as the bucket plummeted back down into the water with a loud plop.
Ruhuahua stared rather disconsolately at the rippling surface of the well.
The bucket had fallen in; she would have to draw water all over again.
Yet her hands hurt so much...
If only she had held on a little tighter just now.
Ruhuahua remorsefully rubbed her frostbitten fingers. The residual water droplets on her hands seeped through the slightly split cracks in her skin straight into the flesh, causing a stinging pain. Only after she recovered from the ache did she belatedly remember that someone had called her just a moment ago. When she raised her head, she saw a familiar figure standing before the small courtyard gate.
Ruhuahua could not help freezing in her tracks.