"Okay, thank Chess Piece Brother," said the Embroideress, lifting her torn and swollen hands to take the bowl. Just as she brought it to her lips, two pebbles shot through the paper window and shattered the porcelain bowl.
The Embroideress and the boy looked as if they had lost their parents, their small bodies shaking uncontrollably.
"Aqi, go back to your room and sleep," the old man commanded, leaving no room for doubt.
The young man gave the Embroideress an apologetic gesture and obediently complied, leaving the mess hall.
Lying in bed, the boy closed his eyes and the happy smile of the Embroideress came to mind, along with the days they spent together, side by side.
Yet, the girl who always accompanied and protected him was suffering alone; he could no longer stand to be weak.
He got up, rushed to the mess hall, grabbed the Embroideress by the arm, held her slender wrist tightly, and dragged the struggling figure into the master's chamber.
