Chapter 93
“Wakako, what are you staring at?”
“Huh… what?”
“I’m talking to you. Why are you so slow to respond? How many times do I have to repeat myself?”
The girl in front of her chided playfully but wasn’t truly angry; she teased with a smile.
“You…” she sighed softly. “You’re always so absentminded. How can I not worry about you?”
Seeing no response, the girl’s eyes filled with a hint of resignation. “You didn’t remember, did you? Let me explain again. This character isn’t written like that…”
Sunlight filtered through the paper windows into the room. It was the height of summer, and the view outside was beautiful, highlighting the girl’s fair profile.
Cicadas chirped incessantly in the trees, their mating calls rising and falling in an irritating chorus.
The girl’s wrists were slender and delicate; when holding a brush, her knuckles became more pronounced, and the skin on the back of her hand was so thin you could almost see faint blue veins beneath.
“When you reach this point, you need to control your wrist,” she demonstrated as she instructed. “Don’t let the brush tip run wild, or it will lose its character. Now you try, Wakako.”
Usually, she would use various nicknames for her, but when she was serious, she would always use the full name “Wakako,” without any playfulness.
Practicing calligraphy was one such occasion.
When the girl wrote, her brush strokes were swift and elegant, like dragons and snakes dancing; when Wakako tried, it was clumsy, like a chick pecking at grains or a puppy paddling in water.
Despite practicing for so many years, her characters were still crooked and unsightly, forming a stark contrast with the elegant handwriting beside hers—like heaven and earth.
Wakako lowered her head in shame, imagining how disappointed the girl must be after investing so much time in teaching her with no apparent results. But what she heard next wasn’t a reproach.
“That’s better. You’ve improved.”
Where was the improvement? Wakako couldn’t see it.
The girl pointed to a spot. “Your control is better than before.”
Wakako’s practice sheet was filled with densely packed characters. She glanced at it surreptitiously but couldn’t see any difference.
“Really…” she said honestly. “It’s still ugly.”
The girl raised an eyebrow. “Are you doubting what I say? These characters here are clearly better shaped than the earlier ones. Look closely…”
She was knowledgeable and could analyze things at length. Wakako listened, feeling lost in the cloud of explanations, only grasping one conclusion: she had indeed improved.
With this in mind, Wakako looked at her ugly characters again and found them more appealing.
Maybe someday, she could also write beautifully.
However, after the praise came a merciless command: “Keep practicing. You need to learn today’s new characters and copy each one a hundred times before you’re done.”
Wakako obediently complied.
A scroll lay open on the table for her to copy from. In the past, she couldn’t recognize a single character, but under the girl’s persistent teaching, she could now understand most of them and guess the general meaning.
Wakako couldn’t help but get excited: “I understand this story!”
“Then tell me, what is it about?”
So Wakako recounted the story. “It’s a travelogue. The author traveled through border towns and wrote about many interesting experiences…”
Her retelling was halting due to unfamiliarity, and there were some misunderstandings. But the girl never showed a hint of impatience; she just listened quietly.
Reaching the end, Wakako suddenly realized she had misunderstood a large part of the beginning. She knocked her head in frustration. “Ah! So that’s what it meant!”
She had thought she understood, but she was still wrong…
Her earlier enthusiasm evaporated, and she asked dejectedly, “Miki, am I really stupid?”
The girl thought seriously and then asked, “What do you think being stupid means?”
“I heard other servants say that the young nobles of the Saionji clan learn things so quickly. They can memorize something after reading it once… It takes me much longer to learn things, and I forget poems and texts the day after I memorize them. I must be… much more stupid than them, right?”
The girl replied, “They started their education at three years old with teachers guiding them, while you only met me at thirteen. Do you think they were born knowledgeable? In fact, they have ten more years of learning than you. Just like everyone knows you have great strength, but that strength was honed over years on the streets, not achieved overnight.”
Wakako nodded, not fully comprehending.
The girl continued, “If you insist on comparing yourself to them, it’s true that such a gap of many years can’t be easily bridged. But does that mean you should stop learning?”
Wakako’s hand tightened on the brush, then relaxed.
“I’ll learn,” she finally said with determination. “I’ll study hard. . Even if I learn slowly, I can still learn if I spend more time.”
She saw the girl’s face light up with a smile in relief, more beautiful than a garden in full bloom.
Wakako secretly swallowed, not knowing why she suddenly felt her face flush. She hurriedly lowered her head to hide her flustered thoughts.
She blamed it all on the summer heat. It was simply too hot, even with several basins of ice in the room to cool the air.
Wakako took a few deep breaths and continued copying the new characters for the day.
The girl felt a bit tired and reclined on a soft chair, closing her eyes to rest.
Thinking the girl was asleep, Wakako would steal glances at her peaceful sleeping face every so often. At first, she was discreet, but as the frequency increased, she was inevitably caught, suddenly meeting those eyes directly.
The girl rarely got a bit annoyed, “You’re distracted again? I told you to focus.”
She reached out to lightly tap Wakako’s forehead—a movement not quick, easily avoidable, but Wakako didn’t dodge.
It was a long-forgotten sensation of pain.
Very gentle, with a slight tickle, mixed with many complex feelings.
With Wakako’s limited vocabulary, she couldn’t describe it well; she only knew she liked it very much.
The girl’s slender fingers pinched her earlobe gently, shaking it gently. “Let me tell you what real stupidity is — it’s trying to do two things at once while studying.”
Wakako felt a bit wronged. “I just couldn’t help looking at you…”
“Not allowed.”
The girl released her hand, giving her a soft pat. “Or are you deliberately trying to make me punish you?”
Her eyes were bright as she leaned closer to Wakako.
Feeling as if her thoughts had been seen through, Wakako turned away, flustered and burning with embarrassment.
“If you write well today, I’ll reward you,” Miki said softly. “But for now, focus on finishing your work. Okay?”
Wakako nodded earnestly.
After that, she didn’t get distracted again, taking time to complete everything Miki had assigned.
When she handed over the paper filled with characters, Wakako’s heart was full of anxiety. The writing still looked ugly to her, and although she had temporarily memorized the new characters, she didn’t know how long she’d remember them… Would Miki be satisfied?
She waited nervously.
The girl looked over them for a while and said gently, “You’ve written very well.”
Wakako relaxed immediately. But then she wondered if the girl was just comforting her: “Which part do you think is good?”
The girl pointed to several characters earnestly. “See here? You’ve even captured the brush strokes, giving it some strength. That’s very good.”
Wakako remembered other servants telling her that the young masters and mistresses placed great importance on this “strength” in their calligraphy. She didn’t fully understand what it represented, but it was good, and that was enough.
“My writing has strength?” she repeated, breaking into a wide smile, dimples forming on her cheeks.
The girl nodded seriously, as always using her fingertip to touch Wakako’s dimples, soft and sweet.
Wakako, not realizing she was still holding the brush, accidentally snapped it in her excitement.
The girl’s brush had a special outer layer, made of a metal alloy, thin but protective. Wakako had managed to shatter it completely.
“Ah.” Wakako’s face fell, knowing how expensive the brush was. “I broke it. What should we do…”
“Don’t worry, I have many more.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Didn’t you see how much gold I have stored in my storeroom?”
Wakako thought for a moment, then said innocently, “That’s true.”
Watching her expressions shift from gloom to joy, the girl pressed her lips, holding back a smile.
In the end, Wakako received her promised reward, with the girl’s touch exploring every place she desired. At first, Wakako was too shy to express her preferences, cautiously enduring, afraid that asking for too much would trouble the girl.
But the girl didn’t mind her hesitance, patiently guiding her, asking about her feelings, and attending to every rise and fall of her emotions.
Her heart, where Miki’s touch had landed, continued to throb subtly. Wakako knew without looking that it must be very red.
She wanted more.
“Let’s not use the flower branch anymore,” Miki said. “I want to try something else.”
On a whim, she took the broken brush and began to write on Wakako’s chest.
Wakako looked down, trying to decipher it for a long time.
“Miki.”
Her name.
With each heartbeat, the two characters seemed to move.
The girl teased her with a smile: “Do you want to write your name too?”
“Wa-ka-ko.”
***
“Wakako?”
The dried leaves gave off a faint bitter scent in the air. Lin Lin watched as her senior sister swallowed the last bit of residue, quietly waiting for the effects to kick in.
She was still worried about Wakako consuming the unknown substance so recklessly. “Are you sure you’re okay? Should I get the others?”
It probably wasn’t poison, given that the two men had chewed it in front of them earlier. They had only seemed a bit dazed afterward, with no apparent harm.
Wakako didn’t respond.
Lin Lin grew increasingly uneasy. Seeing her senior sister sit motionless for a while, she quickly called her name several times, shaking her shoulder.
Fortunately, after a while, Wakako’s eyes gradually cleared.
“You scared me to death.”
Lin Lin let out a long sigh of relief, but was shocked to see Wakako reach for the remaining leaves, trying to put them in her mouth.
She was startled but reacted in time, stepping forward to stop her. “What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”
Although she wasn’t as strong, Lin Lin was quick. In a flash, she snatched all the leaves and held them tightly, preventing her senior sister from touching them again.
Wakako’s gaze was unfocused, not seeming to land anywhere in particular. She also didn’t try to grab the leaves back. After a moment, she walked to the table and picked up a brush, writing a few meaningless characters.
“What… is this?” Lin Lin couldn’t make sense of it. “What does this mean?”
Wakako gripped the brush tightly, very tightly.
She should have known all along. There was no such thing as “strength” in her writing.
She couldn’t even produce proper brush strokes.
There had never been any “hard work makes up for lack of talent.” There were only lies woven with affection, gently wrapping around her heart.
