The carved mahogany clock pointed to three-fifteen, and the brass pendulum swayed in the moonlight filtering through the velvet curtains.
When the bell rang for the third time, the Ta Kung Pao held between Zheng Wanqing's fingertips made a slight sound. The headline on the front page, "Japanese Troops Increase Troops in North China," was quite eye-catching.
She sank lazily into the flannel sofa, her silk nightgown flowing like water, carelessly brushing across the messy newspapers on the carpet.
Since Xie Yun left in a hurry that day, she has developed the habit of paying close attention to the Times every day. After all, in this ever-changing situation, they are closely connected with the same interests.
Zheng Wanqing raised her hand to press her aching forehead, and softly called out to the maid who was concentrating on wiping the window, "Qiuyu."
Qiuyu, who was immersed in the wiping action, suddenly stopped her hand movements when she heard the call.
"Please bring me a pot of tea." Zheng Wanqing's voice was a little tired.
Qiuyu quickly put down the rag in her hand, turned around, put on a humble smile on her face, and replied respectfully: "Yes, young madam." After that, she hurried to the tea room beside her.
Soon, the maid Qiuyu steadily brought the tea to Wanqing. She bowed slightly, "Young Madam, your tea."
Zheng Wanqing reached out to take the teacup, and the lingering tea fragrance instantly lingered at the tip of her nose. Her eyes inadvertently swept across Qiuyu's exaggeratedly swollen knuckles, and her heart moved slightly, and she asked, "Qiuyu, why is your hand so swollen, are you okay?"
As she spoke, she caught a glimpse of a faint indigo stain on Qiuyu's wrist, as if it was accidentally stained, and she didn't think much about it. She just followed the topic and said, "Qiuyu, your hands are really big.
Qiuyu lowered her head slightly and smiled shyly, "I'm sorry to make you laugh, Madam. My hands have been big since I was a child. My mother said that my hands are destined to do rough work. A few years ago, I carried salt bags in Feng Mansion and got inflammation. When it was serious, I couldn't even hold a piece of paper. I was able to work in the Young Marshal's Mansion this year, and my life has eased a little. The Young Marshal is not harsh on us servants. As long as we do our duties, we can have some free time occasionally."
This really surprised Zheng Wanqing. No wonder she judged people by appearance, the words "Keep away from me" were engraved on Xie Yun's face, like Yama descended from the earth, with a natural fierceness between his eyebrows, and he was intimidating without even getting angry.
Zheng Wanqing took a sip of tea, and the hot tea slid down her throat, slightly dispelling some of the boredom in her heart.
She raised her eyes to look at Qiuyu and asked casually, "Are you used to working in this mansion?"
Qiuyu still had that submissive smile on her face, and nodded in response: "As Madam Young Master said, everyone in the mansion is very supportive of me, and I am used to it."
Zheng Wanqing nodded slightly, her eyes fell on the densely packed small words on the newspaper, but her thoughts drifted away.
I don’t know how Xie Yun is doing now, and whether his plans are going smoothly.
After a while, Zheng Wanqing seemed to come to her senses from her deep thoughts. She looked at Qiuyu again, her eyes falling on her ink-stained wrist, and said casually, "Did the ink on your wrist touch the ink box in the study?"
Qiu Yu's heart tightened, but she remained calm on the surface. She quickly explained, "Please forgive me, Madam. I went to clean up the study just now and accidentally touched the ink box that the young commander used for calligraphy. I didn't pay attention and it got stained. I'll go and clean it up right away."
Zheng Wanqing waved her hand, "Forget it, go ahead."
After Qiuyu turned and left, Zheng Wanqing's gaze returned to the newspaper. She felt that something was wrong, but she couldn't tell why.
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