The servants recognized her and quickly made way.
“Miss Hong Xiu…,” the leader swallowed, rubbing his hands together with a fawning smile. “We were just messing around, Miss, we apologize if we startled you.”
Hong Xiu walked past, her peripheral vision catching the small, thin figure sprawled on the ground.
The boy lay motionless in the mud, only his bony spine still rising and falling slightly, indicating he was alive.
Hong Xiu’s steps paused for a moment.
“Disperse. What kind of spectacle is this, blocking the way? The guests in front will laugh.”
The servants exchanged glances but still moved aside.
The one who had been stepping on the boy awkwardly withdrew his foot and bowed to Hong Xiu with a fawning smile: “Miss Hong Xiu, this little beast was just bought and is still being trained—”
“I said disperse. Are you deaf?”
The man’s face paled, and he quickly pulled the others away.
The woodshed entrance was suddenly empty, leaving only the boy still lying on the ground, his face covered in mud, breathing rapidly.
Hong Xiu looked down at him for a while.
That glance was brief, so brief that even she didn't realize what she was looking at.
The boy’s arms bore a dense network of old and fresh whip scars, his exposed calves were bruised, and his hair was disheveled, covering half his face.
His shoulders trembled slightly, and his lips were tightly pressed together; he didn’t utter a sound.
Hong Xiu had intended to leave.
She truly didn’t want to get involved. There were countless servants in the Music Registry who were beaten and bullied, and she herself had come through that stage.
Sold to such a den of vice from a young age, no one had ever stood up for her back then.
She despised such cowards who would just cower and stay silent after being beaten.
If you didn’t fight for yourself, if you didn’t resist, then you might as well wait for death.
She casually remarked, “Why are you just standing there like a fool? Waiting for them to kick you to death?”
After speaking, she prepared to walk around him and leave.
But the boy heard her words and slowly raised his head.
Beneath his messy hair was a face so emaciated it was out of shape, with prominent cheekbones and sunken cheeks. Only his eyes were remarkably clear.
They held no fawning, no pleading, not even the undisguised lust and appraisal that men usually directed at her, nor the usual flattery and trepidation of servants.
There was nothing in those eyes, just pure clarity, quietly gazing at her.
Hong Xiu paused.
She had seen countless pairs of eyes looking at her.
In the eyes of the Music Registry’s patrons, there was greed and lust. In the eyes of the stewards, calculation and assessment. In the eyes of her fellow courtesans, jealousy or flattery. The common folk outside looked at her with curiosity and scrutiny. Even the stray dogs on the street knew to wag their tails for food.
Everyone who looked at her had something in their eyes.
But the boy’s gaze held nothing at all.
Hong Xiu suddenly found it a little amusing.
After spending so long in this place, everyone wore a mask, and even she couldn't distinguish which face was real.
Yet, this filthy, beaten boy, huddled in the corner like a mute, had eyes as clear as a spring.
Hong Xiu couldn’t recall her feelings at that moment.
Perhaps it was merely novelty, or perhaps she had been bored for too long and wanted something to do, or perhaps those empty eyes inexplicably reminded her of something else.
She fanned herself and casually asked, “What’s your name?”
The boy didn’t speak.
Hong Xiu waited for a moment, then narrowed her eyes slightly.
The green-robed maidservant beside her quickly leaned in and whispered, “Miss, this boy is mute. He can’t speak.”
“He was bought a few months ago from a village outside the city. His family was too poor to raise him, so his father sold him to the Music Registry for three measures of rice.”
“Those men said his father raised him like a dog for many years when he was little, and later… anyway, he became useless, only able to bark like a dog, not speak human words.”
Hong Xiu let out an “oh,” suddenly feeling bored. She didn’t ask any more questions or even look at him again.
So, he was just a simpleton who understood nothing.
She took two steps, then stopped again, pulling out a piece of pastry wrapped in a handkerchief from her sleeve.
It was a gift from a noble guest who had attended the banquet, given to please her that evening.
They said it was a freshly made osmanthus cake from the Imperial Kitchen in the Capital, a small, snow-white piece adorned with a few red goji berries.
Hong Xiu didn’t like sweets; she found them too cloying. She had simply taken it and tucked it into her sleeve.
She unfolded the handkerchief, placed the osmanthus cake on a relatively dry stone slab at the woodshed entrance, then stood up, brushed the powdered sugar from her fingertips, and walked away without looking back.
The boy’s eyes shifted.
He looked at the snow-white pastry. There was a thin layer of dust on the stone slab, and the cake had picked up a ring of gray around its edges.
His knees were still trembling as he crawled over, supporting himself with his hands on the ground, moving forward two steps like a real dog.
Then he picked up the osmanthus cake and put it in his mouth.
He ate it quickly, swallowing it almost without chewing.
The sweetness of the pastry spread from his tongue, sliding down his throat into his empty stomach.
The boy paused for a moment, then looked up in the direction Hong Xiu had left.
The woman in the crimson silk sash had already disappeared behind the moon gate. The wind beneath the corridor lifted a corner of her skirt, like a withered red flower.
The boy lowered his head again and wiped the mud from his face with his sleeve.
He didn't know how long he stared at that stone slab, but Hong Xiu’s charming and alluring face was etched into his memory.
The next evening, when Hong Xiu emerged from the main building, she saw someone squatting by the woodshed entrance.
It was the mute boy from yesterday.
He was still bare-chested, squatting in the corner, his hands clasped over his knees, quiet and still, like a house dog guarding the eaves.
Seeing Hong Xiu emerge, he looked up, then lowered his head again, without any superfluous movements.
Hong Xiu glanced at him, paying him no mind.
The third day, she saw him again.
The fourth day, it was still him.
He didn’t approach, nor did he stray far. When Hong Xiu left the main building for the backyard, he would squat under the corridor pillar and watch. When Hong Xiu returned from the backyard to her bedroom, he would sit on the steps three or five paces from her door.
He made no sound, asked for nothing, and didn’t try to fawn over her; he simply stayed there.
On the fifth evening, Hong Xiu came down from the banquet, having had a few cups of wine, feeling slightly tipsy.
She took the back way to her bedroom and only noticed the thin figure squatting on the steps when she reached the door. He held two clean banana leaves in his arms, and on the leaves rested a small handful of wild red berries.
The berries were washed very clean, arranged neatly one by one, as if someone had carefully sorted them multiple times.
The boy saw her approach and pushed the banana leaves forward.
Hong Xiu looked down at them, then at him.
The boy’s lips moved, but no sound came out. However, he made a gesture.
He pushed the handful of berries even closer in Hong Xiu’s direction, then clasped his hands over his knees, curled his body, and waited quietly.
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