"Oh, little master, mind the scaffolding! If anything is not to your liking, just give the word." Uncle Zhou s…
"Oh, little master, mind the scaffolding! If anything is not to your liking, just give the word." Uncle Zhou scooped up the boisterous child and set him down beneath the bamboo shade.
Settling only briefly, the boy grumbled about the lanterns being too thin and then scrambled onto Uncle Mi's back to fuss over a wooden chair. Finally, he squatted by Autie Tian, gravely critiquing the embroidered ducks and geese on the linens. In short, nothing in this new house was quite right for the little master.
At their wits' end, the workers cast their eyes toward their Mistress, waiting for her to intervene. This was the third house the little master had rejected. The first two had already been razed and rebuilt.
"Come here." Han Xiangxun watched the boy dashing about the yard, her grip tightening on her abacus.
The boy was growing up; it was time he had his own quarters. For this grand endeavor, the Blissful Retreat had been shuttered for nearly half a year. Yet the little master's whims changed with the tide, one day demanding narrow doors with stout furniture, the next, slender pieces with broad entryways.
Han Xiangxun had asked many times what he truly desired, but the child could offer no clear answer. So they indulged him, revising day by day, until three months had slipped away. She had meant to be patient, but with the third house nearing completion, the boy continued his fussing, still unsatisfied.
"The last time! One final change, and no more." Han Xiangxun shrugged off the boy's feigned wailing and walked away. That night, a "guest" at the Evercare Clinic awaited her routine rounds.
At midnight, beneath the full moon, she thought of the boy's daytime antics and how he had been frightened later that evening. She sighed at last.
Sitting by his bedside, she hummed a nursery rhyme from her distant home.
Beneath the quilt, the child lay curled in a ball, sobbing in his drowsy state.
As stars drifted and the moon paled, she caressed his sleeping face and tucked the corners of his blanket tight.
"...No new house... I don't want to grow up... I don't want to be apart..."
"Foolish child," she whispered. "You will grow up, and I shall..."
As if a thought struck her, she leaned closer. "When that day comes, even if you are left alone, you must fare well."
A softer murmur drifted up.
"Mother..."
As she moved to rise, the woman nearly lost her composure to tears.
Let him fuss for a few more months. Let her indulge him just a little while longer.
Before the day of parting, before that day which must inevitably come.