Chapter 18 Wrong
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Cheng Jiao-niang had been studying the screen for quite some time.
The screen displayed simple depictions of trees, portraits of beauties, and a line of text.
She focused specifically on this line of text, written in seal script. She moved her lips slightly and began to recite it slowly.
Her gaze remained fixed on the screen as her hand, placed on the table, moved slowly and meticulously traced each character of the line.
She was literate and proficient in writing, perhaps even skilled.
Although her fingers were stiff and her strokes awkward, her thoughts flowed smoothly.
Was this truly a memory of a simpleton?
Could a simpleton achieve this from enlightenment by an immortal?
Who were you?
Who was I?
Outside the door, footsteps were heard approaching, indicating Ban Qin’s return, prompting Cheng Jiao-niang to stop what she was doing.
However, Ban Qin didn’t enter immediately. Instead, she went into the kitchen.
The sugar in the pot had boiled into a thick syrup. Ban Qin poured the sliced peaches into it, gave it a quick stir, hurriedly scooped them out, and then arranged them neatly on the side to cool, one piece at a time.
Without a mirror, Ban Qin gazed into the water-filled tub for some time, meticulously arranging her hair. She dabbed some pot ash on her face, which looked rather amusing. Ban Qin chuckled at her reflection in the tub, yet the traces of her recent tears were still visible in her eyes.
After wrinkling her brow and making a few turns, she boldly wiped two streaks under her eyes with her hand. With the peaches now cooled, she took a deep breath and swiftly carried the plate inside.
“Miss, Miss, please taste how it turned out this time!”
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at her.
Ban Qin knelt down with a smile, placed the plate on the table, skewered one with a bamboo stick, and stood up to offer it to Cheng Jiao-niang’s mouth.
Cheng Jiao-niang opened her mouth and took a bite.
“How is it?” Ban Qin asked.
Cheng Jiao-niang ate slowly, without speaking.
Ban Qin wasn’t in a hurry either. She smiled as she watched Cheng Jiao-niang eat, chatting away about how she had made it.
“Good,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied after finishing eating.
Ban Qin laughed happily, reached up to touch her face, and then pretended to be surprised by something.
“Oh dear, there’s ash on my hand,” she said. “Miss, did I get any on my face?”
“Yes,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
“Oh dear, how embarrassing. But since there’s no one else here, I won’t bother washing it off,” Ban Qin chuckled.
Cheng Jiao-niang pursed her lips.
“Alright,” she said.
Ban Qin then skewered another peach and fed it to her.
After Cheng Jiao-niang ate two, she stopped.
“Have you kept the peach pits?” she suddenly asked.
Ban Qin nodded.
“Miss, would you like something else to eat?” she asked.
“Crack open the pits and get the kernels out,” Cheng Jiao-niang said. “Crush them with a pestle and bring them to me.”
Ban Qin didn’t question her request and promptly turned to leave.
On the floor, socks stained with mud left a trail of footprints. Cheng Jiao-niang glanced over.
“Miss, is this fine?” Ban Qin sat in front of her, grinding peach kernels, occasionally asking.
Cheng Jiao-niang leaned on the table, resting.
“Is there any ginger left?” she asked.
Ban Qin nodded affirmatively.
“Bring it here and use chopsticks to scrape off the skin,” Cheng Jiao-niang instructed.
Ban Qin acknowledged and followed her instructions.
“Miss, do you only want the ginger skin, not the ginger itself?” She carefully peeled off a layer of ginger skin into a bowl, asking as she worked.
“Yes, just the skin,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, keeping her eyes closed as she listened to Ban Qin’s diligent pounding. “Ok now.”
Ban Qin paused, a hint of anticipation in her expression.
“Miss, how would you like it prepared? Pan-fried, stir-fried, braised, or deep-fried?” she asked.
Cheng Jiao-niang reached out her hand.
“Come,” she said.
Ban Qin moved forward, a bit puzzled.
“Come,” Cheng Jiao-niang repeated.
Ban Qin brought the bowl over and sat face to face with Cheng Jiao-niang.
Cheng Jiao-niang held her sleeve with one hand and scooped up a piece of paste from the bowl with the other. She then applied it to Ban Qin’s face, surprising her with the cool, sticky sensation and a slight sting.
“Miss?” Ban Qin exclaimed, taken aback.
Cheng Jiao-niang remained silent, continuing to apply more paste to Ban Qin’s face, gently smoothing it out, first on one side and then the other.
Ban Qin gradually became still, large tears rolling down her cheeks. Soon, tears flowed more and more, washing away the gray-black paste on her face.
Cheng Jiao-niang used her sleeve to wipe Ban Qin’s tears.
“Wait until I finish applying them and let it air dry for a moment before you cry again. Otherwise, you’ll have to make another bowl,” she said.
Ban Qin pursed her lips tightly, holding back her tears.
“Miss, don’t use your sleeve; it’ll get dirty,” she said.
Cheng Jiao-niang acknowledged her with a soft sound.
“It’s fine, it’s your sleeve,” she said.
Banqin exclaimed softly and then looked down to see that indeed, it was her own sleeve. She chuckled softly.
“Miss,” she called out, her voice carrying both tears and laughter.
As night fell, Ban Qin looked into the mirror. Her face was still fair and delicate as always.
“Miss!” she exclaimed happily, “I’ve healed so quickly!”
Cheng Jiao-niang lay on the bed, seemingly asleep.
“Miss,” Ban Qin knew she wasn’t asleep. She knelt on the mat under the bed, loosening her hair. “Miss, you’re truly amazing.”
“I can even bring the dead back to life. What are a couple of slaps to me?” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
Hearing her mention the slaps, Ban Qin felt a bit down. She lay on the edge of Cheng Jiao-niang’s bed.
“Miss, why do they hit me?” she murmured sadly. “I haven’t done anything.”
“Because you have what they don’t, and yet you refuse to be used by them. That’s why you’re blamed,” Cheng Jiao-niang explained.
Ban Qin seemed to grasp the meaning, though not fully.
Cheng Jiao-niang was taken aback by her own words, her mind echoing with a resounding turmoil once more.
“Because you’re so good, too good, that’s why you deserve to die…”
She instinctively clutched at her collar, breathing heavily.
Ban Qin jumped in alarm, quickly straightening up and gently smoothing Cheng Jiao-niang’s chest, repeatedly calling out “Miss.”
Luckily, Cheng Jiao-niang didn’t faint this time. After catching her breath, she gradually regained composure.
This time, it wasn’t the overwhelming sadness she had felt before; it was anger.
The pain of anger, unlike that of sorrow, wouldn’t cause her to lose consciousness but rather keep her fully awake and aware.
“Miss,” Ban Qin cried out, “It’s all my fault.”
“Wrong,” Cheng Jiao-niang sighed heavily. “It’s wrong.”
“Yes, I was wrong,” Ban Qin sobbed, wiping her tears with her sleeve.
What she said was wrong. Cheng Jiao-niang thought to herself, but she felt too weary to speak it aloud, so she remained silent.
After drinking a few sips of water and calming down, Ban Qin helped Cheng Jiao-niang lie down again.
As night grew deeper, even the whispering of insects quieted down. Ban Qin knelt cautiously for a while, ensuring Cheng Jiao-niang was stable and unharmed before finally lying down herself.
“You were wrong,” Cheng Jiao-niang suddenly spoke.
At that moment, Ban Qin was already half asleep, startled, she opened her eyes wide.
“Huh?” She didn’t react immediately, stunned before realizing Jiao-niang was responding to her earlier words. She felt a mix of amusement and sorrow.
“You were wrong,” Cheng Jiao-niang continued, looking into the night. “You shouldn’t have said so much at that time.”
“What should I have done then?” Ban Qin asked, puzzled.
“You should have said you couldn’t decide and let them come to me,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
“Why?” Ban Qin asked, increasingly puzzled. “How could I shift the blame onto you?”
“Because I am your mistress,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Banqin seemed to both understand and not understand at the same time.
Nevertheless, she trusted that Miss’s words were always correct. She made a sound of acknowledgment, nodding earnestly. After waiting until Cheng Jiao-niang fell silent, Ban Qin then lay down.
Though she didn’t fully comprehend, she inexplicably felt reassured. She adjusted on her pillow, took a deep breath, and peacefully closed her eyes.
“Also,” Cheng Jiao-niang continued, “I am a fool.”
When a fool does something, it’s always reasonable.
This time, Ban Qin had no more questions. The only response to Cheng Jiao-niang was the gentle sound of her breathing.
Inside the room, silence reigned once more.
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