Delirious

There was a tense silence. Xiaojun swallowed audibly as her heart sank. So much for Young Mistress' good mood, she thought despairingly.

Mao Xiang gaped and hastily brought up her arm, covering her mouth with her sleeve discreetly. She watched him over the edge of her arm, as Yuanzheng fumbled for words.

"Miss Mao, forgive my manners. Have you--have you seen Miss Qing?"

Xiaojun raised her eyebrows. Young Mistress seemed too shocked to respond for once, so she hastily replied for her. "You are presumptuous, to think that our Young Mistress would know where she is. Why would Miss Mao know?" she said reprovingly.

Yuanzheng swallowed. He looked appealingly at Mao Xiang, who was staring at him without saying anything. "Please. I know I should not disturb, but I heard that you ran into Miss Qing today. Someone told me that they say Miss Qing being taken away by your men afterwards."

Appalled, Xiaojun frowned at him. "You overstep your place, sir. Our Young Mistress did not see Miss Qing at all today. I was with her the whole time, and can vouch for it. How dare you accuse her of that?"

She glanced anxiously at Mao Xiang, wondering why she was speechless when she normally had so much to say. "Isn't that so, Young Mistress?"

Yuanzheng wrung his hands together uneasily. "Miss Mao--if she offended you, please be merciful to her. She is young and rash and doesn't know better. Please let her off."

Amazed, Xiaojun fished desperately for words. "Don't be ridiculous," she said as firmly as she could. "Our Young Mistress has had nothing to do with that person. Please stop making groundless accusations."

With a last agonized glance at Mao Xiang, Yuanzheng unexpectedly got on his knees. "Please show mercy, Miss Mao." he said desperately.

He bowed his head over his folded arms.

Xiaojun looked about uncomfortably as the people in the teahouse started to stare and whisper. "Get up, please. Stop making a scene," she whispered urgently. Mao Xiang made a spluttering coughing sound behind her sleeve and Xiaojun braced herself mentally for the storm that was clearly brewing. She shooed Yuanzheng away wildly. "Go away, before you make Miss Mao angry. Hurry! Get out of here."

Yuanzheng got up quickly and backed away without another word. Heaving a sigh of relief, Xiaojun turned fearfully to her mistress. "He's forgotten his manners, Miss, don't be angry. Probably he's just too worried, so that he believed whatever foolish rumours he heard. I'll get you some fresh tea."

Mao Xiang lowered her sleeve finally and beckoned to her, just as Xiaojun picked up the teapot. "Xiaojun. I've met that man before--have I?"

Xiaojun stared blankly at her. "Of course, Miss. He's the woodcutter you don't like. The one you said threw something on you."

Frowning, Mao Xiang rested her head on her hands. "I thought so. He seemed familiar."

She hesitated, then suddenly demanded, "Xiaojun--he's ugly, isn't he?"

Stupefied, Xiaojun replied slowly, "To be sure, he's rather plain. Nothing to look twice at."

Mao Xiang thumped the table irritably. "So he's ugly. Of course, he's ugly. I knew it."

There was a very awkward silence as Xiaojun wondered wildly what on earth was going in her Young Mistress' mind. Not daring to say anything, she watched her nervously and wished that the food would hurry up and come.

"Why on earth is he so attractive, then?" moaned Mao Xiang.

Xiaojun clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. Her eyes were round.

Mao Xiang leaned forward. "Xiaojun," she whispered piteously. "something's wrong with me. That ugly man is somehow so attractive. I was speechless, looking at him just now. I can't explain it. Do you think I'm sick?"

She groaned. "But he's ugly. How could I ever fall for an ugly man? No, it's not possible. I, Mao Xiang, have some of the highest standards for beauty. How could I possibly be attracted to a man who wasn't handsome?"

"Young Miss," faltered Xiaojun feebly. "Maybe you're too tired. Let's go home and you have a rest."

Mao Xiang was not listening. She was staring dreamily at the doorway."His voice, just now. Did you hear it? Just slightly husky? The way he looked so appealingly at me. His eyes, too. So soft and tender. My heart just melted. If he'd asked me to run away with him I would have done so. Oh, heavens. Xiaojun, what's wrong with me?"

Horrified, she slapped herself energetically on the cheek. "Mao Xiang, you're sick." she said firmly to herself. Turning to Xiaojun, she shook her head decidedly. "Let's go home right now, Xiaojun. Maybe I'm having a fever and am delirious right now. That would explain everything. Yes, that's it. I'm just delirious."

She got up and walked briskly out of the teahouse murmuring to herself with a distracted air, while Xiaojun scrambled after her.

Qingqing ducked behind a curtain and stuffed the towel into her mouth to have her laugh out unheard. She peeled the fake moustache off and cast it away over the balcony carelessly; it had served its purpose. The fake moustache fluttered through the air and landed ontop of a bald business man's head below in a little tuft, as if one of the magical herbal tonics he had been taking finally started to take effect.

"To be honest, I didn't quite think it would work," she admitted to herself, "but there, I always doubt myself. That was so cleverly done; if I ever doubt my genius again I shall remember that look on her face, gawking at Yuanzheng as if he was some celestial being come down from the heavens. " She chortled with delight and did a little dance to celebrate.

In the midst of her glee her face unexpectedly softened. "That silly old thing, he actually bowed to her. I really didn't expect he would go so far. I should scold him, really, making a fool of himself in front of that flatulent woman. Who asked him to be so serious." She smiled, almost fondly. "The idiot. To think I was there watching the whole time, and he didn't have a clue. Ah, he's so gullible."

She stopped dancing as a thought struck her. "I'd better find him and tell him I'm all right before he goes and makes trouble," she murmured to herself with a frown, and chucked the towel hastily aside, making a beeline for the backdoor.