A Shattered Vase

"Miss," faltered Xiaojun hopelessly. She looked sadly at the spoon lying untouched on the tray of food she had brought in an hour ago. The slices of roast meat were starting to look cold and greasy, and the rice was hardening as it cooled. She would have to bring some fresh food in soon.

Mao Xiang did not reply, but the hump of blankets on the bed heaved and there was another burst of passionate sobs.

"Please, Young Mistress," Xiaojun said despairingly. "Please eat something. You haven't eaten since yesterday. You need to keep your strength up."

"What for? I might as well die. I can't marry that horrible old pig. How could Father be so cruel to me? How could he not care at all what I think?" sobbed Mao Xiang, flinging a pillow block to the ground.

Xiaojun felt tears come into her own eyes. She picked the pillow block up and held it fearfully. Mao Xiang sat up suddenly, shedding the blankets, and turned to her with a wild look on her face. Xiaojun choked back a sob, feeling a pang as she saw how terrible her mistress looked. Her eyes were red and swollen with crying, and her face was drawn and puffy with lack of sleep. Even in her worst tantrums the Young Mistress had always been conscious of her appearance, and she had always hurried to cool her face down after crying.

"Miss," she sobbed. "Please eat a little. You won't help anything by starving yourself like this. You're wreaking your body."

"What does it matter? Father doesn't care about me. If he did, he would think twice when he saw how much I'm suffering now. He would care about my feelings. He's not human, Xiaojun. He doesn't care at all about me. All he cares about is making a good alliance with Lord Yang!"

She staggered up from the bed with a bitter laugh. "Ah, he's convinced himself that this is for my own good. The fool. He's convinced himself so he needn't feel bad. He wants to believe that he's doing this for my own good, but it's a lie!" She spat the last three words out violently.

"All he cares about is his own schemes. He thinks I'm stupid, doesn't he? He thinks that I'm just throwing a childish tantrum. He thinks I don't know that he's doing all this for himself!"

Lurching across the room, Mao Xiang caught hold of the shelf drunkenly, shivering with rage, and flung a precious porcelain vase to the ground. Xiaojun gave a little cry of terror and flinched sharply as it shattered; a shard flew across her cheek and cut it. Mao Xiang grabbed the broken vase from the ground and hurled it acorss the room so that it broke against the wall in a shower of splinters. Blood stained her fingers from the edges of the vase but she did not seem to see, or feel. Xiaojun watched her with wide eyes.

"For my own good! He's lying in his teeth. Oh, the hypocrite. Xiaojun, what's happened to him? He was never like this. When did he become this monster? Have I always been blind?"

She tore a scroll from the wall and ripped the painting in two with a shriek. "Here I was, thinking myself the luckiest girl in the world. The rich and pampered young lady of the Maos. With such a doting father."

Her voice broke. Xiaojun trembled as Mao Xiang came up to her and she felt her mistress' hands fall on her shoulders, forcing her to look into her bloodshot eyes.

"I always thought he loved me. And I loved him too, Xiaojun. I thought I had such a good father. But do you know what I really am? I'm just a pet bird. A pet bird trapped in a fancy cage. That's all I am."

Mao Xiang shook Xiaojun fiercely. "That's all! Xiaojun, aren't I pathetic? You're laughing at me, aren't you?"

"No, Young Mistress--Xiaojun wouldn't dare--Xiaojun is suffering seeing you like this, Xiaojun can't bear to see you like this--" Xiaojun stammered tearfully. She felt her heart aching with sympathy. It was unreal, almost, seeing Mao Xiang reduced to this state. She could hear the bewildered pain in her mistress' ragged voice, the furious despair in her screams and destructive actions. For the first time in her life, Mao Xiang was helpless. Her life was crumbling around her ears.

Xiaojun watched her pityingly, helpless. Mao Xiang was too hurt and furious to plead properly with Sir Mao; she would only make him angrier. If Xiaojun had dared she would have went to plead with him for her mistress, but she had always been in terror of Sir Mao and his terrible gaze, his ruthless ways. She wished desperately that she had the courage to go and see him, to tell him what his daughter was going through and beg him to change his mind.

With a jerk, Mao Xiang released Xiaojun and snatched the pillow block that the maid had dropped in her fright. She cradled it absently in her arms, resting her cheek against the embroidered end. "I'm such a pathetic person," she murmured to herself, a lost expression in her eyes. "What use is it being the precious young lady of the Maos? What use is it being the prettiest woman in the district? Isn't it all for Father's plots? I've got no say, after all. I've got no say at all. How is life so unfair?"

She bit her lip so hard the teethmarks stood out on it. "I hate Lord Yang," Mao Xiang whispered, staring drearily at the ground. "I hate him. I wish I could throw every present he's given to me back at his face, force them down his throat. If I'd known what was happening then I'd have died before I accepted any of them. What a fool I was. Xiaojun, don't you think I'm very pathetic? I've been tricked, tricked by both of them."

There was a rap at the door. Xiaojun wiped her tears hastily. "Young Mistress, someone's at the door. Let me go see," she said faintly. Pushing the tray aside, Xiaojun went to the door, heart pounding. Sir Mao had not visited his daughter yet. Maybe the screams and smashing sounds had finally driven him to come. If only he would come, maybe he would relent when he saw how devastated his daughter was.

She opened the door and started back with an exclamation of surprise as Han Sheng towered before her. Her heart leaped.