The Cost of a Robe

"There he is, that blockhead." Qingqing muttered to herself. She was lying flat on top of the rooftop, and peering over the tiles at the woodcutter in the street below.

The woodcutter was looking at a stall selling fish hooks, carefully turning them over in his big fingers. Qingqing settled more comfortably on the roof tiles, enjoying the warmth that they had soaked up from the sun, but her eyes flitted rapidly to and fro, scanning the area.

She noticed everyone; the woman with the baby on her hip, sorting through cabbages and unaware that her gap-toothed husband was flirting with the girl selling them. The farmer arranging his turnips as carefully as if they had been gold bars. A pickpocket following a plump gentleman; Xiaoqing caught a glimpse of the blade in his hand, waiting to cut the thongs of the money pouch. A skinny ragged boy with bruises on his legs, watching from behind a wagon of hay as he gnawed on a bao. "Stolen probably," Xiaoqing murmured to herself. An old man hobbled past and greeted the woodcutter warmly, who smiled and spoke with him for a while.

He had a pleasant smile, despite his plain face. A wide, generous smile that came and went unexpectedly like sun dancing on water.

Xiaoqing suddenly stiffened. Her eyes narrowed into slits and she craned forward.

A paper parasol with paintings, making its way slowly down the street.

"Damn it, that flatulent woman appearing twice before me is really more than I can bear," Xiaoqing muttered furiously.

She watched as Mao Xiang picked her way daintily through the crowd, keeping her sleeves closely to herself for fear they might touch someone and get dirtied. Her maid struggled to clear the way for her and shield her mistress at the same time. A porter ladened with boxes tried his best to keep up with them.

Xiaoqing snorted. "What an idiot. Look at how she struts along. Just looking at her makes me get indigestion." She retched and spat out a half digested lizard onto the tiles with a disgusted expression.

She sniffed and raised her head to continue watching Mao Xiang's complacent face, then abruptly looked back down again at the lizard. There was a sly look in her eyes.

Mao Xiang unexpectedly stopped as she passed the fish hook stall, causing her maid to bump into her, almost pushing her off balance. Frightened, the maid bowed. "Young Mistress, forgive me!"

"Use your eyes, will you? Clumsy and useless," Mao Xiang muttered. She flicked a strand of hair back delicately from her smooth cheek. "I want to get some of the new pressed powder, if they have it at the Chrysanthemum Pavilion. Move."

As she turned, something damp and slimy slapped against her cheek. Mao Xiang squeezed her eyes shut with a piercing scream, wrinkling up her face in horror as she felt it slide down and land on the breast of her peach-coloured robe.

Her maid watched in mesmerized dismay, too frightened to say anything, as Mao Xiang slowly opened her eyes and looked down stiffly.

Her second scream was even louder than the first one.

"Get it off me! Quick, get it off!"

Qingqing rolled on the rooftop, stifling her laughter. "That was the best shot I ever made in all my five thousand years! Too bad Sister Bai wasn't here to see that. She wouldn't dare to laugh at my aim anymore. Oh Xiaoqing, Xiaoqing, what a priceless look that was on Miss Mao's face! I'll remember it whenever I feel depressed. A double blow at that! Ah, the gods are kind to me."

The maid could not avoid several blows from Mao Xiang's flailing arms as she tried to remove the lizard with her handkerchief. "Miss, please calm down!" she stammered uselessly.

There was a small crowd gathering to watch the commotion. Mao Xiang's face had turned scarlet. "Who did this? Who dared to do this?"

She whirled round in the direction it had come from, and met the woodcutter's startled eyes.

Something in his expression, something he did not even know was there, irked her indescribably.

Mao Xiang raised a finger slowly and pointed it in his direction. "You!" Her voice dripped with rage. "How dare you, you filthy lowlife? A shoddy woodcutter with a hideous face. You think it's funny to humiliate me? Do you know who I am?"

The woodcutter opened his hands helplessly. "It was not I. I was looking at the fish hooks the whole time. I did not even know you were behind me."

Mao Xiang lunged forward, infuriated by his calm behaviour, then fell back, making a big show of gagging. "You stink!" she said loudly and disdainfully. "Reeking of sweat and wood chips. Do you even bathe? Or change your clothes?" She lifted her sleeve and held it over her nose with a sniff. Her eyes were hard and venomous over her arm.

Her maid tittered nervously. The woodcutter was silent, watching her warily.

"My father is Mao Yuan the official. I can have you beaten up by my men even if I don't want to disturb him. He can seize your family's possessions if I want him to. You think highly of yourself, don't you? Harassing me in broad daylight on the street? Do you want to die?" Her voice grew higher and shriller, as the woodcutter remained motionless.

"I already told you, I did not do it." he said evenly. "I was looking at the fish hooks. The shop owner can testify to that. I am sorry such an incident happened to Miss Mao, but I do not know who did it."

Mao Xiang turned to the shop owner, who turned pale. He was a plump man with a wispy beard and a healthy colour, but his cheeks seem to wither under her gaze.

"People like you lie more than you breathe." she said scornfully. "Anyway, this shop owner is a wise man. Aren't you? He knows what he saw." Her eyes challenged him.

He swallowed, eyes popping from his head. "Well--Miss--that is--your humble servant did not notice--" he faltered wretchedly.

Mao Xiang's eyes dug into him. "Well, what did you see? You saw this woodcutter throw something at me, didn't you?"

The miserable man gulped, darting an appealing glance at the woodcutter. "Well--Miss--your lowly servant deserves to die--I saw--I saw--"

He gasped desperately and shut his eyes, unable to meet the woodcutter's gaze. "I--saw him turn around, but I can't be sure--not exactly--"

Mao Xiang smiled. "See? He's a wise man, after all. I would advise you not to put on airs that will cost you. If I demanded you pay back the cost of this robe you would be in debt till the day you die."

The woodcutter bowed his head. "The truth is as I said. I rely on Miss Mao to understand."

"Pah--what right do you have to expect me to be understanding?" She paused. "Well, what are you waiting for? Kneel down and ask me for mercy."