Silk and Wool: 6/?
Author's Note: Another chap. Short, but I felt like updating.
“Please sir. Stop, please-“
“You want food? You want money? You share my bed.”
The young man gruffly pulled at Fei and shoved her down in a dark alleyway. She tried to kick him away, but he was too large and too drunk. The heat on his breath could be felt as it blasted into her face and onto her neck. He ripped at her clothing, eliciting more screams of mercy from her.
“Don’t do this! Please-“
“You there! What are you doing?”
She heard another man’s voice, now muffled behind this larger one that held her by the throat and tried to open her dress.
“Mind your business. Just having a bit of fun. Walk away.”
She was slapped in the face before the second man pulled back the shoulder of the one on top of her, throwing him back a few feet.
“Run,” he told her.
As the drunkard lunged at her again, her savior pulled him back again and began to fight, landing blows into his stomach and his face. A particularly hard pelt came to his face, splitting the skin on the other man’s hand. The two were eventually broken up when a passer-by happened upon them, promptly sending them to the magistrate soon after.
Fei never did get a good look at the second man’s face, but she saw his build and the fit of his clothing before she ran. He was like the first one, well dressed and clean; they were of high-ranking classes. The two men never did get a good look at her; one drunk and the other in near darkness when she was nearly wrecked. They never knew that one of them would be excused prison for attacking an educated widow, nor that the other would become her newest student.
Fei told Jia her story, but happened to leave out the part of her realization that it was Chansung that saved her in that back alley. She warned Jia that it was something of dreams when men like that came along; that they were far and few between. It was with great deliberation that she chose to come to the estate, requesting that she personally instruct the miscreant she’d heard so much of from the magistrate. The teacher knew of the boy’s kind heart, and made it her duty to watch out for him.
---
“What does he like?” Min asked Jia offhandedly.
Jia was propping Chansung’s mother up in bed, the woman having dozed off for a third time that day. She’d become extremely tired of late and it was of no use trying to keep her awake when she didn’t want to be.
“Excuse me, miss?”
“Chansung. Or Master Hwang, whatever it is that you call him. What sort of things does he like?”
“I…I…” Jia stuttured. She was unsure of how to answer this question. “…I wouldn’t know miss.”
She fluffed a final pillow before bowing her head and trying to rush out of the door. Min caught her by the arm before she could escape the room.
“Come now. You’ve been here for quite a while. Is something the matter?”
“No miss. Your hand. It hurts.”
Min smiled at her devilishly before she shoved at her arm, letting go but making Jia shutter and cast her eyes down.
“I’ll hold you hard I wish. Who are you to question it? You’re the help. …but you’ve yet to answer my question-“
“I don’t know the answer-“
“You do. …and you’ll tell me.” Min gently crossed her hands, settling them gently in front of her dress as if she were waiting for a sermon in church. “You find him handsome, do you not?” Min asked coyly.
A dangerous question, indeed. Min peered at the old woman still lying on the bed and leaned in to speak to Jia.
“Chansung and I…are to be married. Don’t have any ideas going on in that simple, little head of yours. I’ve seen how you look at him,” she began to take a small walk around Jia, “…that longing, wanting look. You can’t have him and you never will, so you might as well cooperate.”
Min steppedd out before Jia, leaving her quiet.
“He’s about to have his lessons. …if you can’t tell me now, then I shall find out myself. The next time I ask though, you shall answer me.”
Min smiled at her and left with a bounce in her step, full dress flouncing behind her slightly. Jia stood in her madam’s doorway infuriated, hand twisting and tightening.
---
Min became Chansung’s shadow, taking to accompany him wherever he went. She spoke nonsensically about books she’d never read when they were in the library, latched herself to his arm whenever the chance came up, and even came to his side when he took strolls on the estate.
Chansung abhorred it, missing the polite company Jia gave him, the quiet, or simply having a friend instead of some bustling member of the young elite bothering him about rank, money and reputation. As days passed, he heard her alluding to more personal matters.
“Chansung, when do you think you’ll marry?”
“Miss? I’m not sure. It will happen when the time is right. I know my mother wishes this upon me rapidly but…when I’ve found the right girl.”
“Who’s to say you haven’t found her already?”
Chansung’s mind spread out this thought. There were many women in his life now, but one always came to the forefront. Miss Min took all of his company these days, but he missed his old friend; the kind, quiet girl with a deeper passion in her eyes. He wanted to joke and read, not discuss the life he was trying to leave. He rarely spoke to Suzy, Min pulling him away in all ways, shapes or forms. It was as if any other woman was a threat to her. His instructor pursed her lips at the new intruder in her lessons. Min wasn’t like Jia, gentle in her company, but loud and talkative. He was constantly distracted by her need to share a story of what she’d done that day, or her questions about him. His answers were always vague, so she always wanted more. Min was taxing on him, demanding and impolite. If he were to find a girl to marry, the closest person he could even fathom marrying was…
“Chansung?”
“Yes…yes who’s to say I haven’t?” he smiled.
Min held his arm tighter as they walked, smiling into his shoulder gently as they did so. They were heading up a small hill, only a field away from the house toward his favorite tree. Min clasped to the thought that he was beginning to feel something for her. If not the obvious attraction she thought he would, then something of a small spark beginning to grow. Chansung clasped the small book in his free hand. It was blue and full of fairytales, tragic stories with beautiful endings, as his heart swelled for another.
“Please sir. Stop, please-“
“You want food? You want money? You share my bed.”
The young man gruffly pulled at Fei and shoved her down in a dark alleyway. She tried to kick him away, but he was too large and too drunk. The heat on his breath could be felt as it blasted into her face and onto her neck. He ripped at her clothing, eliciting more screams of mercy from her.
“Don’t do this! Please-“
“You there! What are you doing?”
She heard another man’s voice, now muffled behind this larger one that held her by the throat and tried to open her dress.
“Mind your business. Just having a bit of fun. Walk away.”
She was slapped in the face before the second man pulled back the shoulder of the one on top of her, throwing him back a few feet.
“Run,” he told her.
As the drunkard lunged at her again, her savior pulled him back again and began to fight, landing blows into his stomach and his face. A particularly hard pelt came to his face, splitting the skin on the other man’s hand. The two were eventually broken up when a passer-by happened upon them, promptly sending them to the magistrate soon after.
Fei never did get a good look at the second man’s face, but she saw his build and the fit of his clothing before she ran. He was like the first one, well dressed and clean; they were of high-ranking classes. The two men never did get a good look at her; one drunk and the other in near darkness when she was nearly wrecked. They never knew that one of them would be excused prison for attacking an educated widow, nor that the other would become her newest student.
Fei told Jia her story, but happened to leave out the part of her realization that it was Chansung that saved her in that back alley. She warned Jia that it was something of dreams when men like that came along; that they were far and few between. It was with great deliberation that she chose to come to the estate, requesting that she personally instruct the miscreant she’d heard so much of from the magistrate. The teacher knew of the boy’s kind heart, and made it her duty to watch out for him.
---
“What does he like?” Min asked Jia offhandedly.
Jia was propping Chansung’s mother up in bed, the woman having dozed off for a third time that day. She’d become extremely tired of late and it was of no use trying to keep her awake when she didn’t want to be.
“Excuse me, miss?”
“Chansung. Or Master Hwang, whatever it is that you call him. What sort of things does he like?”
“I…I…” Jia stuttured. She was unsure of how to answer this question. “…I wouldn’t know miss.”
She fluffed a final pillow before bowing her head and trying to rush out of the door. Min caught her by the arm before she could escape the room.
“Come now. You’ve been here for quite a while. Is something the matter?”
“No miss. Your hand. It hurts.”
Min smiled at her devilishly before she shoved at her arm, letting go but making Jia shutter and cast her eyes down.
“I’ll hold you hard I wish. Who are you to question it? You’re the help. …but you’ve yet to answer my question-“
“I don’t know the answer-“
“You do. …and you’ll tell me.” Min gently crossed her hands, settling them gently in front of her dress as if she were waiting for a sermon in church. “You find him handsome, do you not?” Min asked coyly.
A dangerous question, indeed. Min peered at the old woman still lying on the bed and leaned in to speak to Jia.
“Chansung and I…are to be married. Don’t have any ideas going on in that simple, little head of yours. I’ve seen how you look at him,” she began to take a small walk around Jia, “…that longing, wanting look. You can’t have him and you never will, so you might as well cooperate.”
Min steppedd out before Jia, leaving her quiet.
“He’s about to have his lessons. …if you can’t tell me now, then I shall find out myself. The next time I ask though, you shall answer me.”
Min smiled at her and left with a bounce in her step, full dress flouncing behind her slightly. Jia stood in her madam’s doorway infuriated, hand twisting and tightening.
---
Min became Chansung’s shadow, taking to accompany him wherever he went. She spoke nonsensically about books she’d never read when they were in the library, latched herself to his arm whenever the chance came up, and even came to his side when he took strolls on the estate.
Chansung abhorred it, missing the polite company Jia gave him, the quiet, or simply having a friend instead of some bustling member of the young elite bothering him about rank, money and reputation. As days passed, he heard her alluding to more personal matters.
“Chansung, when do you think you’ll marry?”
“Miss? I’m not sure. It will happen when the time is right. I know my mother wishes this upon me rapidly but…when I’ve found the right girl.”
“Who’s to say you haven’t found her already?”
Chansung’s mind spread out this thought. There were many women in his life now, but one always came to the forefront. Miss Min took all of his company these days, but he missed his old friend; the kind, quiet girl with a deeper passion in her eyes. He wanted to joke and read, not discuss the life he was trying to leave. He rarely spoke to Suzy, Min pulling him away in all ways, shapes or forms. It was as if any other woman was a threat to her. His instructor pursed her lips at the new intruder in her lessons. Min wasn’t like Jia, gentle in her company, but loud and talkative. He was constantly distracted by her need to share a story of what she’d done that day, or her questions about him. His answers were always vague, so she always wanted more. Min was taxing on him, demanding and impolite. If he were to find a girl to marry, the closest person he could even fathom marrying was…
“Chansung?”
“Yes…yes who’s to say I haven’t?” he smiled.
Min held his arm tighter as they walked, smiling into his shoulder gently as they did so. They were heading up a small hill, only a field away from the house toward his favorite tree. Min clasped to the thought that he was beginning to feel something for her. If not the obvious attraction she thought he would, then something of a small spark beginning to grow. Chansung clasped the small book in his free hand. It was blue and full of fairytales, tragic stories with beautiful endings, as his heart swelled for another.