The splendor of the Red Chamber, the power that reigns supreme.

Chapter 67 Reply by Xue Baochai

There is neither a title nor a conclusion; it consists of only seven or eight lines.

A seven-character quatrain:
Take care of your beauty and close the door during the day, and water the moss pot with your own hand-held urn.

Rouge washes out the shadow of autumn, and ice and snow reveal the soul.

Only when you are indifferent can you realize how beautiful the flowers are; when you are too sad, how can the jade be without any marks?

To repay the White Emperor with purity, I remain silent, graceful as dusk falls.

This poem, written by Xue Baochai herself, is an ode to the white crabapple blossom, used as a metaphor for herself.

Ximen Qing's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, then relaxed, a playful smile playing on his lips. He looked up at Xue Pan and said, "Brother Pan, please sit for a moment, allow me to write a reply."

As he spoke, he turned to walk towards the study. He had just taken a step when he suddenly stopped, as if tripped by something.

He glanced down at the delicate handwriting on the letter, then recalled his own crooked, crab-like handwriting, utterly unsightly. The official's eyes darted around, his gaze returning to Xiangling, who stood there meekly, her entire body radiating fear.

Ximen Qing gestured with his chin toward Xiangling, "Come in with me."

Xue Pan was taken aback for a moment, then chuckled as if he suddenly understood, and gave Xiangling a nudge: "Go quickly! Your brother wants you to go in and serve him with his writing materials! This is your good fortune!"

Xiangling stumbled as he pushed her, almost falling over, her face turning deathly pale.

How does one serve the writing implements? Mostly by sitting in the master's lap.

In wealthy families, it was common to keep several pretty and clever maids in the study. They were called "red sleeves adding fragrance," playing the zither with delicate hands, turning the pages of books with jade fingers, reciting in a sweet voice, and standing by to hold the inkstone, creating a refined and elegant atmosphere.

Such maids naturally had to be neat in appearance and have a charming figure. When they were said to be "adding incense," they were actually adding their own body fragrance; the agarwood and ambergris in the incense burner were just a cover. When they were said to be "tuning the zither," they weren't actually tuning the pine soot ink or the purple jade light in the inkstone, but rather the love between lovers.

"Tuning the zither," "flipping through the pages of a book," "reciting aloud," and "holding the inkstone" are all preludes to intimacy, meant to deceive others.

"Delicate hands," "jade fingers," "sweet voices," and "standing at attention"—these are the true occupations of maids serving their masters. Nine out of ten of these maids are merely fleshy screens hanging in the study, adorned with phrases like "Tranquility leads to far-reaching goals" and "Simplicity reveals one's aspirations"!

The last one isn't a maid!
Thinking of this, Xiangling's eyes welled up with tears again. Fearing that she would anger her new master and be beaten without reason, she could only bite her lower lip tightly, move her golden lotus feet, lower her pink neck, and take one step at a time, just like a timid lamb following the tall figure in front of her.

He had only taken two steps when it suddenly dawned on him: That's it, the master is no longer that Master Xue!
Stealing a glance at the new master, he was tall and imposing, handsome and dashing, with a captivatingly wicked air about him. Compared to Xue Pan, one was a phoenix soaring in the clouds, the other a lame pig on the ground; one was a jade tree on a celestial terrace, the other a rotten stump in the dung.

Thinking of this, Xiangling's tears had long since dried, and a sweet feeling welled up in her heart. She thought to herself: It would be better to give my body to such a person than to be ravaged and defiled by that fool. She only prayed that Heaven would have mercy and show her some tenderness, and that he would punish her less!
As soon as I entered the study.

"Kneel down." The official's voice was not loud, but it was cold and sharp, piercing straight into Xiangling's heart, which had just begun to warm up.

Xiangling was so frightened that her soul seemed to fly out of her seven orifices, and she dared not delay even for a moment.
With a "thump," her knees slammed hard onto the ground, her forehead pressed against the cold, hard surface, making her delicate body tremble uncontrollably.

The faint hope that had been lingering in my heart was instantly crushed by those two words, leaving not even a trace.

She closed her eyes tightly, anticipating the slap or the barbed rebuke that was about to fall. But instead, a large hand reached out unhurriedly. Xiangling shuddered in shock, instinctively trying to shrink back, but her body froze, too afraid to move an inch. The countless beatings she had suffered at Xue Pan's hands had taught her this all too well.

The more you try to dodge, the fiercer the attack will be; it's better to grit your teeth and endure it.

But instead, that hand gently and slowly caressed her cool, smooth cheek!
His fingertips, slightly rough, caressed the tender flesh of her face, yet the movement was unexpectedly gentle, like a goose feather brushing against her, lightly wiping away a tiny damp spot at the corner of her eye that she herself hadn't even noticed.

"Don't cry," the new master's voice was heavy, and for some reason it calmed Xiangling's heart that was hanging in her chest a little. "Teaching you to kneel down is to make you realize that from now on, I am your new master."

"Yes... Xiangling, mistress, Xiangling knows she was wrong!" Xiangling closed her eyes, feeling the calloused fingers rubbing and caressing her delicate face, her voice trembling uncontrollably.

Ximen Da Guanren stood tall and imposing, looking down at the little man with his eyes lowered.

If her beauty was slightly inferior to that of Qin Keqing and Jinlian, then once her eyes were filled with tears and her cheeks were dewy, she reached that level. She looked pitiful and helpless, ready to be taken advantage of.

Master Ximen laughed and said, "From now on, as long as you behave well, I'll spoil you rotten. Let alone hitting you... even if I hurt a single hair on your head, my heart will ache..."

"Yes, Xiangling... Xiangling will obey her master's orders wholeheartedly and will do whatever she is told." Xiangling felt as if tiny insects were crawling on the spot where the fingertips had touched, a tingling and itchy sensation. An indescribable heat crept up from her tailbone, mixed with the lingering fear, making her feel flustered and confused.
"Get up. I've heard that you come from a distinguished family, a family of scholars and officials? You must be literate and have beautiful handwriting," said Master Ximen, withdrawing his large hand.

Upon hearing this, Xiangling felt as if she had received a pardon. She hurriedly got up and replied softly, "Replying to my mistress, this servant... this servant did indeed recognize a few characters when I was young, but I wrote them poorly and was afraid they would offend your eyes."

"Don't refuse," Ximen Qing waved his hand, walked to the large carved sandalwood desk, and casually opened a blank account book. "Come, write a few words for me." He raised his chin slightly and pointed to the writing implements on the desk.

Xiangling dared not delay. She quickly moved to the edge of the table with small, quick steps, her heart pounding wildly.

She rolled up her sleeves, revealing half of her snow-white wrist, and reached out to pick up the heavy pine soot ink stick, preparing to grind it carefully in the Duanxi inkstone. This was a task she was used to doing as a young lady, but now she was serving her master, so she held her breath and dared not sit. She turned to the side, slightly bent her knees, and prepared to write while standing.

But just as her fingertips touched the cool ink stick, she suddenly felt a tightness around her lower back! A large, hot hand wrapped around her from behind and tightly gripped her slender waist!

Xiangling froze, forgetting even to breathe. Before she could cry out, she felt a powerful force strike her, and her whole body was swept up in mid-air by that large hand, and with a twist, she was firmly placed on a nanmu armchair covered with brocade!

"What's the panic?" Ximen Qing's deep, chuckling voice rang close to her trembling ear, his hot breath brushing against her delicate neck, raising goosebumps. "I told you to sit and write, so sit and write. Focus on writing your characters."

As he spoke, he actually released her waist with his large hand and picked up the cold inkstone. His tall body stood close to the back of the chair, his broad chest almost touching Xiangling's thin back.

With one hand propped on the corner of the table, he actually began to grind ink slowly and steadily in the inkstone with the other. The ink stick touched the inkstone, making a soft rustling sound, which was particularly clear in the quiet room where you could hear your own heartbeat.

Xiangling was completely stunned. The burning heat pressed against her back made her uneasy. —Could it be…could it be that her suffering had finally come to an end, and she had stumbled upon a kind and compassionate master?

She hurriedly bit her tongue hard, forcing back the untimely tears. She couldn't cry! She absolutely couldn't displease her master again!
She took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the turbulent emotions surging in her heart, and tried to steady her wrist. Her fingertips trembled slightly as she picked up a small wolf-hair calligraphy brush, dipping it heavily in rich, dark ink.

"This servant...this servant thanks you, mistress." Her voice was as soft as a mosquito's buzz, tinged with shyness.

(End of this chapter)