A Long Day for Xiaojun

Xiaojun started awake as something prodded her in the ribs. She looked up confusedly to see Mao Xiang standing in front of her, a parasol in her hand.

"Good, you're awake. We're going out, Xiaojun, get ready." Dropping the parasol, Mao Xiang flounced away.

Scrambling up, Xiaojun frowned. "Young Mistress, you're going to town again?"

"Why, is there a problem with that? Can I not do what I want?" demanded Mao Xiang, examining her hair in the mirror. "Come over here and help me check the back of my hair if it's smooth. I want to add one more hairpin over here, take out my jewellery box."

Meekly fetching the enamelled box, Xiaojun opened it and laid the choice selection of felt flowers, jade and gold filigree hairpins before her mistress. "Which one do you want, my lady?"

Mao Xiang smoothed the waves of her hair critically. "Maybe the pink velvet flower. It would match my outfit." She glanced down self-consciously at the cherry-blossom coloured gown she had donned.

Xiaojun obligingly picked up the flower pin, hiding a yawn, and was just about to insert it into Mao Xiang's hair when the latter raised a hand imperiously. "I changed my mind. The jade is better. It will bring out the clarity of my complexion, don't you think?"

"The white or the green one, my lady?"

There was a long silence. Mao Xiang frowned. "The white," she said at last uncertainly. "No--the green! The green is prettier."

Xiaojun repressed a groan. This had been going on since yesterday and she did not know what to make of it. In all the years she had served the young mistress she had never acted like this--extra fickle and particular about her toilette, fluttering with excitement and quick blushes, imperious and moody without warning. They had gone out yesterday, and this morning, each time for some petty excuse, and yet here she was wanting to go out again.

"What do you want to get this time, Young Mistress?" she asked.

Pettishly, Mao Xiang swept past her, adjusting her hair delicately. "Enough questions, Xiaojun. Just do as you're told. Make sure you bring the parasol, I'll blame you if I get tanned in this sun."

"Why not go out later when it's not so hot?" Xiaojun suggested, but got a glare for her pains. Hastily she fetched the parasol, and as Mao Xiang's back was turned made a face at her reflection in the mirror. Obviously it was not going to be an easy day.

As they entered the main street, Xiaojun watched her mistress' face, wondering what they were here for. Mao Xiang's eyes wandered distractedly about, but the maid noticed that her attention for once didn't seem to be on any of the shops; they walked past the Chrysanthemum Pavilion without her even glancing at it. She seemed to be scanning the faces in the crowd, instead, something that Xiaojun had never seen her do before.

"Are you looking for someone, my lady?" ventured Xiaojun at last, after they had walked aimlessly down the main street twice.

Mao Xiang cleared her throat. "What? Looking for someone?" she said uncomfortably. "I'm just bored, that's all. I thought I saw someone I knew. What's wrong with you, can't you walk quietly behind me?" She cast a hard look over her shoulder at Xiaojun.

Xiaojun wisely said nothing. Inwardly, she thought she knew enough now. Young Mistress had went to bed last night unusually distracted; she had been tossing and turning in bed long after the candle had been blown out. This morning, she woke up in a capricious mood that was even worse than the day before, fussing about a dream she had had about the woodcutter at the teahouse. Xiaojun had teased her about it, only to have Mao Xiang fly into a temper--probably the worst one she had had this month--throwing things and ordering her out of the room. When things had finally calmed down Mao Xiang had not mentioned the woodcutter again, but now Xiaojun was sure her mistress had come out solely to look for that wretched man.

She sighed. It felt so ridiculous she had not wanted to admit it but it seemed that her mistress had really fallen for the woodcutter.

Mao Xiang suddenly stopped in her tracks, so abruptly Xiaojun bumped into her from behind and shrank back, expecting a slap. But her mistress grabbed her arm instead. "Xiaojun--am I right? Is that him? You can see him clearly, can't you? There by the bun seller. Over there, stupid. Can't you see?" she hissed impatiently, pinching Xiaojun irritably as the maid looked about too slowly for her liking. "Now, Xiaojun. Tell me honestly--don't you dare lie, or I'll poke your eyes out with my hairpins! Is he ugly?"

"Ah, Young Mistress, you're making it so difficult for me," stammered Xiaojun wretchedly.

Another pinch was all the reply she got. Finally she faltered, "Well--he's the same as he looked yesterday--just the same as he's always looked."

Xiaojun uttered a silent prayer. In her mistress' current fantastic mood she had no idea whether she was just signing her own death warrant or not.

Mao Xiang let go of her with a sigh. She leaned against the wall and gazed distractedly at where Yuanzheng stood, listening to the bun seller's gossip. "How tall and manly he is. And how deliciously broad his shoulders are. I bet he could sweep me off my feet without any effort. I'm an idiot," she broke off suddenly with a groan. "What am I doing? How could I be drooling over that sweat-covered bumpkin? I should just go home and get Xiaojun to put cold cloths on my forehead."

She turned and glared at Xiaojun. "What are you gaping at? Stand further back and mind you don't drop that parasol, hold it properly."

Turning back to enjoy the view, she heaved another, deeper sigh. "What's wrong with him," she muttered, "isn't he going to turn his head at all? Is he going to stare at that stupid old man yakking away the whole time? I didn't dress up painstakingly to be ignored like this. Turn. Turn this way. Come on."

Xiaojun sat down limply against the wall, clutching the parasol helplessly. It was going to be a long day indeed.