The gilded bell in the banquet hall of the Grand Tutor's Mansion had just struck three quarters past midnight. The lotus pattern cast on the bronze bell shone with a shimmering light in the sunlight. Shen Ruoruo clutched the hem of her lake-blue skirt tightly, her fingertips already pinching three deep folds into the brocade. The itch on her inner thigh was like a lit fuse, the initial stinging pain like ants spreading into a raging fire. Every half-cup of tea, she would dig her nails into her flesh fiercely—if she had used this force on the embroidery frame, she would have already embroidered half a lotus with two stems.
"Sister Ruorou," said Lin Churan, the daughter of the Minister of Personnel, approaching with a bag of lychee paste painted in gold. Her eight-inch high heels made a clattering sound under the bricks. "I see you've been like an ant on the hot pot since just now. Do you have fleas under your skirt?"
The ambergris in the gilded incense burner suddenly became pungent, and dozens of eyes were fixed on Shen Ruorou's twitching lower back. She was scratching the inside of her skirt with her fingertips when the thunderous questioning startled her. The pearl necklace around her waist snapped in two strands, and the round beads tumbled into the cracks in the blue bricks, a perfect reflection of her throbbing heart.
"You're slandering me!" Shen Ruorou suddenly raised her head. The pearl flower on her forehead was tilted to her brow bone, and the exposed skin was covered with red marks from nails, as if her face was smeared with cheap rouge. "It's just a few mosquito bites!"
"Mosquito?" Lin Churan raised his eyebrows and took a half step closer. The peacock feathers on the round fan brushed the tip of Shen Ruorou's nose. "What kind of mosquito only bites the lower back and thighs? Could it be that you have sneaked into the bushes of the Taifu Mansion?"
Suppressed laughter flooded the banquet hall like a tide. Several timid ladies covered their mouths with jade-inlaid fans, their shoulders shaking like leaves in the autumn wind. Shen Ruorou stared at the undisguised sarcasm in their eyes, feeling the back of her teeth ache. The itchy feeling in her lower back returned as expected. Her fingers uncontrollably reached under her skirt, and as soon as their fingertips touched the rough grass, they bounced back like a branding iron.
"Oh, cousin!" Shen Weiwan suddenly squeezed over from the crowd, her pomegranate red skirt sweeping across Shen Ruoruo's knees like a ball of flame, the white copper ointment box in her hand dazzling people, "Look at this scratch, it's bleeding! Try my mint wormwood ointment, I just asked the kitchen to make it yesterday!"
She made a move to rub Shen Ruorou's waist, but her fingertips accidentally brushed against the inside of her skirt—where a few stubborn nettle scraps were clinging. Shen Ruorou leaped up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, screaming and swatting her hand away. The force of the blow sent her stumbling backward, knocking over the rosewood coffee table behind her. The celadon teacup shattered, the broken pieces splashing onto the hem of the gilded skirt of the daughter of the Minister of Revenue's family. The brown tea even spilled onto her shoe, and the damp brocade clung to her ankle, intensifying the itch.
"My new shoes!" The daughter of the minister screamed, and the pearls on the embroidered shoes turned white due to the tea.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Shen Ruorou apologized hurriedly. As she bent over, she felt an unbearable itch on her lower back, and subconsciously arched her body to scratch it. This posture caught the eyes of everyone, just like a monkey doing somersaults on the stage, and the laughter instantly broke through the roof of the hall - some people laughed so hard that they slapped their thighs, some covered their mouths with handkerchiefs and laughed so hard that they couldn't straighten their backs. Even the old nanny in the Taifu Mansion couldn't help but turn around, her shoulders shaking violently.
"Oh my God! What has happened to her?"
"I look like a street monkey scratching lice!"
"Could it really be that he rolled out of a haystack?"
The chatter pierced Shen Ruorou's eardrums like needles, and her face faded from crimson to pale, then from pale to liver-colored. She was about to argue when she realized her fingers were still tucked into her skirt. Hastily pulling them out, she pulled out a few tiny pieces of grass, glistening green and sticking to her fingertips, glaring in the sunlight.
"Grass clippings! There are grass clippings in her skirt pocket!" Lin Churan pointed at the grass clippings on the ground with sharp eyes, his voice filled with the excitement of discovering a new world.
All eyes instantly focused on the grass debris that had fallen from Shen Ruorou's skirt pocket. Those few inconspicuous strands of green seemed to suddenly be magnified a hundredfold, causing her pupils to shrink suddenly. Shen Weiwan covered her mouth just in time, her almond-shaped eyes widening. "Cousin, why is there something like that in your skirt pocket? Could it be..."
She paused deliberately, glancing at Shen Ruoruo's red and swollen skin from the corner of her eyes. Her hesitant look was more hurtful than any accusation.
"What is it?" Lin Churan asked, and the noble ladies around him also came closer, and their gossipy eyes almost tortured Shen Ruoruo to death.
Shen Weiwan lowered her head, her voice as soft as a mosquito's, but every word was clear: "The other day I heard the old maid in the mansion say that if nettles get stuck in the fabric of clothes, wearing them will cause red bumps all over the body, and the itching will be unbearable..."
"Nettleweed?!"
"Is it that weed in the west wing that drives dogs crazy with itching?"
The noble ladies retreated three feet as if avoiding a snake or scorpion. Some pulled out otter-skin handkerchiefs to cover their mouths and noses, while others even hid behind pillars, looking at Shen Ruoruo as if she were the source of some plague. One timid concubine even cried out and knocked over her tea tray, the sound of shattering porcelain being particularly harsh in the deadly silence of the banquet hall.
Shen Ruorou finally broke down, pointing at Shen Weiwan with fingers shaking like dead leaves in the autumn wind: "It's you! It must be you who stuffed grass scraps into my skirt! You're jealous that I'm more favored than you!"
"I'm jealous of my cousin?" Shen Weiwan's eyes were red with grievance, and her moist eyes seemed to be filled with two pools of autumn water. When she took a half step back, she "accidentally" bumped into the Taifu's wife, and her voice was filled with tears, "Madam, you saw it. I have always been by your side. How could I have the chance to do such a thing? Could it be that my cousin is itchy and confused..."
Madam Taifu looked at Shen Ruoruo, who was scratching her head and hair with a crazy look, and then looked at Shen Weiwan, who was about to cry. The powder on her face was almost shaken off by anger: "Enough! Since Miss Shen is not feeling well, go back to the mansion and ask for a doctor!"
"I won't!" Shen Ruoruo threw away the old woman who was supporting her and rushed towards Shen Weiwan like crazy, with her hair scattered like a ghost. "She hurt me! You were all deceived by this little bitch!"
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