The nameless young woman remained silent before that enormous revelation. She needed to assimilate the information received, trying to rearrange the pieces of the puzzle that had appeared in front of her in a correct way. In that story, there was a mysterious gentleman and a little daughter.
-There are two hypotheses: 1. YaQin is a concubine, and she gave birth to the daughter of a rich lord, only to be abandoned. 2. YaQin and this rich man are married, which would also explain the reason for so much care reserved for a dead body. Since Xiu Zan calls me "her lady" I would rule out the first hypothesis. Therefore...-
"Xiu Zan, could I ask you another question?" The young woman asked, after a brief moment of hesitation, passed to contemplate her own little hands.
The handmaid nodded, returning to attention again.
"Certainly, my lady."
"The noble gentleman you speak of..."
She did not finish the sentence, leaving it to the woman to grasp the correct nuance and the right interpretation. She had to wait a few seconds, but the reply she got back did not disappoint her expectations of the smart maid.
"Yes, my lady. You and the noble gentleman have long been married, despite the young age of both."
At that confirmation, the girl's heart seemed about to stop a second time. Seeing the shocked expression on her lady's face, Xiu Zan hastened to set the record straight.
"You have nothing to worry about. The noble lord is indeed a kind person. He would never harm you." She said, biting her lower lip, in a gesture of involuntary anxiety.
In that movement, the girl read the lie of that statement and, again, was invaded by a feeling of malaise, caused by the tension that the whole story was making her accumulate. She had to face all her strength not to burst into tears and scream in frustration, as she would have liked to do.
"Xiu Zan, my throat is a bit dry. Could I have some tea ...?" She murmured, hoping to be alone for a few minutes so that she could recover. She felt suffocated, and the presence of the handmaid, gracious and gentle as she was, could not improve the situation.
Xiu Zan watched her, undecided about what to do. Then, after carefully weighing her choice, she stood up. She bowed her head cordially as a sign of farewell and, with a slow and graceful step, left the room, lightly approaching the door.
Left alone, the girl brought her legs to her chest, letting go of the tremors that until then she had cleverly concealed. She wrapped her arms around her thighs, taking deep breaths, looking for oxygen. The fingers sank into the white funeral robe until they touched the skin.
She felt a slight discomfort in her right leg, and assumed she had mistakenly scratched herself. Despite this, she did not loosen her grip going, on the contrary, to increase its intensity, as if that vague pain was enough to keep her conscious, to show that - that miserable story - it was not just a dream.
-Why? Why is all this happening? Why to me...?-
Immersed in those thoughts, devoured by doubt and anguish, she did not realize that the door to the room had been opened and that someone had entered it with the same silence as a shadow. She became aware of the new presence only when she sat down beside her on the bed. She felt the mattress sag slightly, under a new and unknown weight, and this sudden change made her jump.
She jerked her head up, meeting two shy doe eyes, dark enough to look like bottomless pits.
The girl felt her heart skip a beat, and found herself having to hold her breath to make up for that sudden lack. She said nothing, letting those irises peer into her, digging into the depths of her soul, naked and deprived of her real identity.
"Mommy...?" That little word, whispered like a question, hit the girl's heart like a punch in the face. Once again, the malaise gave way to amazement.
For an instant, a single instant, the young woman forgot her condition of not belonging to that life; she forgot that she was not the real YaQin, her condition of poverty, fear and even injustice or doubt; she forgot herself, getting lost in that uncertain and trembling voice, like a leaf about to abandon itself to the cold of winter.
It was only a moment, but it was enough to restore a partial balance in the soul of the girl, tormented until then. Nothing remained of the affliction but a distant and indefinite echo.
"You are..." She didn't finish the sentence. Once again, she waited for her interlocutor to do so, hoping not to excessively hurt her fragile feelings. The little girl - with short light brown hair, left free from any impediment - nodded.
"I am your daughter." She whispered, clutching the sheet in her fingers, small yet incredibly strong.
The girl saw her knuckles turn white and her cheeks tinged with a deep red, immediately being bathed in hot tears. She did not understand where it came from - whether it was joy, relief or sadness - but she immediately understood what to do. Or rather, it was as if her body moved by itself.
Without further ado, the nameless girl placed her hands on the girl's cheeks, making herself look. She caressed her cheekbones with her fingertips, in a futile attempt to wipe away her tears. She smiled at her, urging her to do the same.
And then, in the darkness of one's mind, a name. A flash of life, a sudden and fleeting fragment, fast. Without realizing it, she grabbed it as quickly as possible. Clutching the little girl to her chest, after having gently hugged her, she let out a sigh full of relief, as if a huge boulder had just been moved from her chest.
"You are my little ShuLan..." She murmured, in a voice not his own, sweet and happy, devoid of fear or confusion.
A distant voice, the last breath of the existence of the true Yeh YaQin.