The clamor of the marketplace reaches my ears. Even at dusk the sound is nearly deafening, with the hustle of passerby and loud calls of shopkeepers ringing through the air.

If I was younger, this scene would have delighted me. Now, however, I merely clutch my tattered ko-hemp shawl tighter around my shoulders, hurrying on.

    My face moves back and forth from stall to stall, taking in the plates of steaming rice, warm mugs of green tea, and thick mushroom soup. In my eagerness to eat I push through the crowd, fighting to reach the front of a shop.

Suddenly someone slams into my shoulder and I trip over the long hem of their robe, toppling to the ground.

    My eyes come face to face with a pair of bright blue silk shoes, with tassels on the end. I go numb. These types of shoes are only possessed by the extremely wealthy, usually scholar-bureaucrats or even court officials. This means the person I tripped over will be less keen to pardoning me. The elite classes have an infamous reputation for being ruthless and cruel to common subjects. I should know; I was one of them. And I can assure that it is true.

    “I am incredibly sorry, sir,” I gasp, prostrating myself at the man’s feet. “Please forgive me for my carelessness. Please condone my actions.”

    “Stand up and look at me,” he says in a cold, fearsome voice.

    My gaze travels upwards farther and farther, taking in an intricate silk-satin weave robe, gold stitching, and- worse- a gold pheasant embroidered on the the chest of the garment. A first-rank scholar-bureaucrat. No. Please, no.

    When my view reaches the man’s face, my breath nearly stops.

    Handsome, chiseled features glare down at me with a rigid look. The man’s sharp nose, prominent eyebrows, and high cheekbones give him the look of a divine god. He is celestial.

    Yet...

    The look on his face- the stern, stolidness- invokes a pang of familiarity within me. The man’s black hair is smooth and straight, not a strand out of place. Something about him-

    And it hits me. My eyes widen to the size of saucers.

    “Y-Yifan?” I whisper, taking a step backwards. Dread and humiliation and shock fill my body. Is this the same Wu Yifan from my childhood? The pathetic son of the servant who ran errands for my family? The boy I constantly taunted, teased, derided for being of an inferior social status to me?

    Yes, it is. I can see by the slight flash that passes through Yifan’s eyes; he is surprised that I know his name.

    Fate has a humorous method of retaliation.

    “How dare you address me by my first name,” Yifan utters. His mere voice is intimidating me. I am still in awe about the transformation he has undergone: from an insignificant peasant to this powerful, formidable figure.

    “I apologize again, sir,” I say quickly, bowing down again. My voice is trembling. “I should not have addressed you so disrespectfully. Please excuse my impertinent behavior.”

    A crowd has begun to form around Yifan and me. Some faces look eager, others are anxious. I clench my fists, willing them, Yifan, myself to disappear. Why did we have to meet in this place? I am only grateful that he does not recognize me.

    Suddenly I feel my chin being yanked up. Yifan’s piercing gaze bores through my eyes, causing my shivering to intensify. “Who are you?” he demands. “What commoner dares to call me by my first name?”

    My eyes dart away from his. “No one, sir,” I breathe. “Please, it was a mistake. I will undertake any punishment, if it satisfies you, sir.”

    “Tell me your name.”

    I freeze. Should I lie? If I tell him my real name he will know my identity in an instant.

    “Do not lie to me,” he adds, as if he knows what I am thinking. “Or else you will suffer even more dire consequences.”

    The audience cranes their necks with anticipation, waiting to hear my words. Yifan is glowering at me even harder.

    Finally, I submit myself to his order. “Li Hua,” I whisper. Yifan stiffens visibly, but quickly regains his composure.

    “Surname?” he asks in a low voice.

    “Huang,” I reply in a soft voice, and Yifan’s arm falls to his side.

    The spectators watch him confusedly, wondering why he looks so astonished. After a brief silence he whispers, “You lie.”

    I shake my head.

    “You are Huang Li Hua? The same Huang Li Hua who my father worked for years ago?” Yifan says, shaking his head. “Impossible. You cannot be her. You are a pauper, poor and dirty and meek. How...,”

    He trails off when I use my dress to wipe away some of the dirt on my face, comb back stray hairs with my fingers. A glint of recognition sparks in Yifan's eye. He steps towards me.

I wait with bated breath, waiting with anticipation for his next move-

          And the next moment Yifan is laughing. Harsh, cruel laughs that ring through the marketplace, cause the bystanders to stiffen in unease. My body involuntarily shrinks backward, attempting to shield myself from his coming actions.

         "Well, well, well. So it is you, Huang Li Hua. What an interesting twist this is." Yifan sneers down at my face. "What happened to your wealth and status? You have become the very embodiment of the characteristics for which you so tormented me as a boy: penniless and destitute. While I have gained wealth and honor and become a scholar-bureaucrat."

         A faint memory from my past rings out at me: my father informing Yifan that he would pay for his education, Yifan preparing to take the civil service exams. Me teasing him that the stench of his poverty would stink up the testing site.

        Looks like he succeeded. Judging by the various insignia on his robe, he did incredibly well, too.

        I lower my head. I cannot talk back to someone of his prestige.

        "What's wrong?" Yifan mocks. "Where has your sassy mouth gone? Aren't you going to call me a worthless peon?"

        When I do not answer, he tangles a hand in my hair and pulls my head back, so that I am looking straight at him. Yifan's stare is burning with vindication and pure loathing. "Call me a beggar," he hisses. "Go ahead."

        "No, sir," I rasp, a lump forming in my throat. Tears prick at my eyes. "I am sorry, your honor."

        "Your honor?" Yifan scoffs. "This is quite entertaining. I have been waiting all these years for the time when I saw you again, so I could prove my worth. I never expected that you would be reduced to this."

      The burning ignominy I feel coursing through my veins is well deserved. I was terrible to Yifan in the past. Why is there any reason for him to treat me better?

      "Huang Li Hua, you are coming with me," Yifan says firmly. My jaw drops in appallment before I hurriedly collect myself. "I will enjoy putting you through the same shame and disgrace I felt everyday at your hand."

      I shake my head frantically. "Please, no, sir," I beg, clasping my hands together. "Please do not-,"

     "Silence!" Yifan snarls. "Do not even try to defy my orders. Follow me."

    Surreptitiously, I survey the marketplace. If I make a run for it, I can weave through the stalls and head to the alleyways. Then I can make my way back to Hutong-

     "If this girl attempts to escape, the man who captures here again will get 10,000 paper Yuan." Yifan announces to the vast number of spectators. All plans of breaking away fly from my mind. The audience buzzes in awe, bewildered on why this powerful man would offer such a high sum for a single girl.

Yifan has me trapped.

The money has got the people working for him now.

     My stomach sinks all the way to my feet. I have no choice.

     "Yes, sir. I will follow you." My voice is barely above a murmur.

      The corners of his mouth curl up into a humorless smile.

    Yifan's estate is enormous. Stone lions guard the main gate of the house, followed by a lush garden. A grandiose mansion sprawls upon acres of land, its traditional red walls, black roof tiles, and large wings nearly taking my breath away. It has been so long since I have been to a house of this stature.

How ironic that it is my old servant's.

   Yifan and I have not spoken a word to each other since we departed from the marketplace. When we arrive at his house, his attendants silently shuffle past me and bow to Yifan. They lead us to a wide spacious room with colorful wool tapestries hung up on the walls. Wide sofas are arranged around an open space. Yifan takes a seat at a sofa; however, when I attempt to sit down on another couch he snaps his fingers.

   "You are not worthy for this furniture," he intones. "Kneel on the floor."

  The ground is hard and cold. I look down at my knees. They are bruised and dirty and speckled with various debris and dust. I am dirtying his floor.

   "From this day forth, you will be the lowliest servant in this household," Yifan informs me. "You shall be relegated the most inferior of tasks, perform the most humble work in this estate. I will be so gracious as to provide you with room and board."

   What? I furrow my eyebrows. It is as if Yifan is attempting to duplicate our situation in the past, except with our roles reversed.

    A condescending smirk curls Yifan’s lips. “What do you have to say?”

    For a moment I consider snapping a scathing reply at him, or punching him in the face- just like I did to him when we were young.

    When we were young.

    “Yifan! Where are you?” I screamed, jutting my hip out. Even as a young child, my voice was terrifying enough to scatter the crows perched in the courtyard. “Yifan! Yif-,”

    “I am here, my lady,” a smooth voice said from behind me. I turned. Yifan was standing with his arms clasped behind his back, his body bent in a bow. “What would you like?”

    I sneered with distaste at his dirty elbows and scraped knees. Clearly, he had been out in the gardens looking at bugs again. I loathed how my father called his pointless ventures “intriguing” and “scientific”.  There was nothing intriguing or scientific about it! Besides, how could my father ever consider that a dirty peasant boy could accomplish anything of any value?

The thought made my stomach clench. Everything about Yifan was revolting, from his intelligent mind that Father always praised, to his boyish looks, to his calm, stoic demeanor.

    I despised that last one the most. How was I never able to anger him, even when I submitted him to the most humiliating treatments?

    “There you are,” I said in a mean voice, stomping over to him. “Yifan, I’m hungry! I want sweets!”

    Yifan gave me a tired look. “My lady, you know that you are not allowed to have sweets. If you eat anymore you’ll get larger- oof!” He doubled over onto the ground as I rammed my elbow into his gut.

“H-How dare you call me large!” I said indignantly, my face a violent shade of red. “I am not large! Father says I am merely filled with more happiness and joy!”

“Whatever you wish to call it, my lady,” Yifan snorted, and I pushed him down with all my might. He fell, hitting his head on the callous concrete of the courtyard floor.

    “Cease your insolence!” I hollered. When Yifan did not move, my haughty expression quickly morphed into one of concern. “Y-Yifan? Are you okay?”

    Yifan looked up. His face was scrunched up in pain.

    “Yifan...,” I said, biting my lip. “Hey...,”

    Then he bowed his head. “I am fine, my lady,” he told me in a cold voice.

    I did not notice the red droplets spattered on the ground where he had fallen until later.

       The sensation of something under my face jars my from my thoughts. I blink. Yifan’s shoe is resting on my chin, pushing upwards. A sadistic expression plays on his handsome features.

“I said, what do you have to say?” he repeats, vindictive amusement creeping into his voice.

I swallow. “Nothing, my lord. Thank you for permitting me this opportunity.”

Yifan removes his shoe from my jaw. "Your responsibilities will begin tomorrow morning. Yixing, show her to her room." He stands up and exits the room. The attendants bow as he leaves.

     "What is your name?"

I turn around. A man with curly hair is looking at me, appraising me with his piercing gaze. He is dressed in a simple brown robe.

  "Huang Li Hua," I respond, and he nods once.

    "Come with me,” he says. And I follow Yixing out the large room and through a winding labyrinth of hallways. Because it is so late in the day, there are only a few servants performing work in the house. When Yixing and I pass by them they openly gawk at me.

    After a few more turns, Yixing and I reach the servants’ barracks. He shows me to a narrow, dimly lit room at the far end of the hallway. A small mat and pillow sit in the corner of the room, while a small table and lamp sit next to the bedding. I slowly glide into the room, beaming widely. This is such a wonderful, cozy room. After the cramped, dilapidated hut which I lived in for 5 years back in the Hutong district, this room is heaven on Earth.  

    “You will meet the other servants tomorrow,” Yixing informs me. A small smile plays on his lips as he observes my amazed reaction to my new living space. “Before you sleep, you may want to bathe yourself. There should be a fresh set of clothes on your mat. I will wake you up early tomorrow morning.”

    And Yixing gently shuts the door.

Yixing wakes me at 4 in the morning the next day.

“Master Wu has instructed that you perform menial tasks only,” Yixing tells me apologetically. “Today, you will be cleaning the bathrooms and the animals’ homes. I warn you, they are not enjoyable tasks.”

And a little while later, as I am on my hands and knees scrubbing the grimy latrines in one of the bathrooms, I realize Yixing’s words to be true. Yifan’s house contains 4 bathrooms, not including the servants’ washroom and the bath house. It is a tedious task to undertake; first, every toilet must be emptied and cleaned, and the sinks must be filled with fresh water.

Yifan also keeps a strange material in his bathrooms; sheets of soft, papyrus-like material that sit next to the toilet. Are they extra cleaning rags? I decide not to tamper with them.

While I am cleaning, the faint notes of an old song flow out of my lips. I softly begin to sing an old tune my mother taught me when I was young; an upbeat song about sailors falling in love with the moon. Soon, I am cheerfully wiping away as I continue tidying up the bathroom.

I almost do not notice the presence of someone behind me.

“What is this racket you are creating?” a hostile voice scoffs behind me.

My eyes widen. I shoot up from the ground, dropping my cleaning rag.

“I apologize, my lord,” I say, ducking my head. My cheeks are flaming with embarrassment.

“Pathetic,” Yifan sneers. He is dressed in a lavish red robe, and is wearing a dark hat-pin. Yifan must have just gotten back from the Emperor’s court, I realize.

“How was your day?” I blurt out, and then quickly slap my hands over my mouth. That is too casual of a question for someone of my status to ask him!

Yifan narrows his eyes at me. “Why do you care?”

I twist my mouth into an abashed expression. “I- I apologize for inquiring, my lord.”

Yifan crosses his arms. “How was your day? You must have enjoyed cleaning the toilets and the animals’ manure. What a suitable task for a lowly beggar.”

I look down at the floor.

“Well, I must be off. I cannot stay in the presence of a menial worker any longer.” Yifan arrogantly informs me. His footsteps echo in my ears as he strides out of the room.

"You look... different," Yixing remarks as I sit down in the main hall of the servants' barracks. I had not realized how many servants Yifan possessed until I came to eat dinner in the servants' hall. Everyone is cheerfully talking, grouped into separate cliques. A few servants eat alone, while others jump from person to person, chatting animatedly.

The food is wonderful. A bowl of rice and a few salted vegetables cooked together, accompanied by a cup of water. I devour my food hungrily. This is the first meal I have had in days.

"How do I look different?" I inquire.

Yixing contemplates my face. "I did not realize this when I first saw you, with your torn rags and dirty face. But in reality, you look like a noblewoman."

My stomach clenches. "Really?"

"Yes," Yixing nods. "There is something about... the features of your face, and the way you carry yourself, despite being a commoner."

"Is this your way of trying to court me?" I joke, attempting to cover the swell of sorrowful emotions rising up in my chest. It works; Yixing chuckles, not realizing my pained demeanor. He is about to respond when a slight servant scurries into the room.

"Is Huang Li Hua here?" she calls into the servants' hall. Silence overtakes the lively room. I slowly stand up, a feeling of dread spreading through my body.

"Here," I call. Hundreds of pairs of eyes land on me.

"His noble lord requests to speak with you," the servant tells me. Her countenance is nervous, uneasy. As she leads me out of the servants' barracks and through the main halls, she grasps my hands.

"Be careful," she pleads in a soft voice. "Do not anger the master, or he will punish you. Please."

I give the girl a wavering smile. "Thank you."

And I walk into Yifan's room.

He is sitting in a grandiose, heavily decorated green chair, a cup of clear green tea sitting in one hand. The entire room is papered in delicate red wallpaper, causing the colorful hues of the furniture to be drawn out. It is a beautiful room. I bow, ensuring that my eyes travel nowhere near his face.

"You finally have a job that suits you," Yifan laughs harshly. "Cleaning dirty bathrooms and animal stables."

I bite my tongue.

"Now you see how I felt," he continues. "Do you know how hard it was for me to bear your disgusting treatment? I swore that one day, I would get revenge. And now look at us. You are the poor servant, while I am the powerful scholar. Even your father would be proud of me."

The mention of my deceased father causes my insides to churn.

"Where is Master Huang, anyway?" Yifan asks, his tone lightening. "I would like to see him, as I owe him many thanks for helping me in the past. Did you live with him in the Hutong district? No, you were disowned, weren't you."

My throat feels like it is latched shut.

"Well? Why are you not speaking? Do not worry- I will not subject him to the humiliating treatment I am making you undergo. I would just like to see him. It has been years, and I at grateful for his supportive treatment of my pursuits."

"He is dead," I whisper.

Yifan freezes. "What?"

And I recount to him the murder of my father, the way my mother and I were picked apart my loaners and merchants and family members suddenly emerging from the woodwork, until our pockets had been picked clean. How my mother committed suicide a week after we had been evicted from our estate, leaving me to fend for myself in the poorest, most dangerous district in Chang'an.

By the end of my story my body is trembling hard. I hurriedly duck down my head. I do not wish for Yifan to see the pained expression on my face.

I have stayed strong for years. I cannot let myself falter now.

Suddenly, I feel cool silk brush against my skin. A minty scent fills my nose as a warm body envelops me. My eyes widen in shock.

Yifan has wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. His strength- his presence itself- is overwhelmingly reassuring, in some strange way that I cannot identify. Perhaps it is because he is the sole remnant of my past. Perhaps it is because he rescued me from the Hutong district, even if it was only to enact revenge.

And finally I break down, let all the tears and sorrow and emotions I have been covering for so long flow out in violent sobs. My body molds itself into Yifan's grasp as I cry, cry, cry.

"I miss them, Yifan," I wail. "I miss Mother and Father and my old life so much. It... it has been so hard...,"

"Hush," Yifan murmurs into my hair.

"I'm sorry, Yifan," I whisper. "I regret treating you so cruelly in the past. I was jealous of you, jealous of the way my father constantly doted on you and cared for you. Therefore I took out my anger in those mean ways."

I gently detach myself from Yifan's arms, and completely prostrate myself in front of his feet. Yifan grabs my arm.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his tone shocked.

"I know I cannot make up for the grievances I have committed in the past," I tell him, "but please know that I am incredibly sorry."

"Rise, Li Hua," Yifan commands softly. The sound of my name rolling off the tip of his tongue causes a shudder to run down my spine. I am unworthy of Yifan, of his gentle tone, his newfound power. I deserve to lie at his feet for hours, apologizing and regretting.

But I comply with his words and sit up. Yifan is looking at me, his gaze firm.

“I was not aware of these things,” he says. “You should have informed me earlier.”

“Why? Would that have made a difference in the way you treated me?”

“Of course,” Yifan replies quietly. “I took you with me so that I could make you repent. But I was not aware that you have already repented several lifetimes’ worth of sorrows.”

I brush away my tears. “Your actions were still justified.”

“Li Hua,” Yifan sighs. “I... if I had known that you were in this position earlier, I would have helped you sooner.”

I tilt my head. “Why? I acted dreadfully towards you. What reason would you have to help me?”

“Your family helped me, first of all,” Yifan responds. “If your father had not paid for my education and my entrance to the civil service examinations, I would not have been able to obtain my position. I owe you.”

“I see.”

“That is not the only reason.” Yifan clears his throat. “Li Hua, despite your childish tantrums and horrendous temper and insulting remarks and tangly hair-,”

My head snaps up. “With all due respect, sir, my hair was not tangly.”

Yifan scoffs. “Don’t contradict me. Anyway, despite all your negative qualities... I considered you as family.”

A small smile curves my lips.  

“And, well, family members usually have certain emotions that, well, correspond to their, well...,” Yifan’s adam’s apple bobs nervously up and down his throat. “Well, I just feel that, well... not taking care of you is, well...,”

“Yes?” I prompt, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I... I cared... about you. Well, care. Well-,”

“If you had any more wells, you would be able to provide the entire city of Chang'an water for a lifetime.”

Yifan’s face turns red. “All I am saying is that, as someone who cares about you, I would have been willing to provide for you. Especially because I possess the resources to do so.”

“Thank you, my lord,” I say, and I give Yifan a wide beam. His cheeks turn even darker, if possible.

“I will not torment you any longer,” Yifan says. “And you do not have to continue working as a servant.”

I quickly shake my head. “I do not mind doing servant’s work. Besides, I would rather work to earn my place.”

Yifan stares at me for a good minute, before he bursts out into laughter.

“You really have changed, Huang Li Hua,” he chuckles, running a hand through my hair. “What happened to your no sweets, no work policy? That was quite an infamous rule of yours back at the Huang household.”

I giggle. “Was that why I was so chubby as a child?”

Yifan stares at my face. “What?” I ask.

“Keep smiling,” he grins. “I haven’t seen that smile in years. For a while, I thought you’d forgotten how to look happy.”

And at that moment, I realize that for the past 5 years, I have smiled less than I did during these few minutes.

“I... had no reason to,” I murmur. “My life has not been the happiest time since my parents died.”

Yifan plants a long kiss on my forehead. “I’ll give you reasons to smile from now on.”

And I melt into his grasp once more.