06

"Qing! Qing!" Mo'lan shouted as she was sold and being taken away in a cart.  Bingquing shook her head, but Mo'lan's shouts only increased to a shrill level.  The well-dressed man buying her shoved her into the cart and then put his hand around Bingquing's neck.  He had the body of a soldier and his direct gruff manner was off putting and typical of men of his class.

He smelled too of unwashed man and the beef he had consumed the night before.  He jingled coins in the handler's face, "How much for this one?  I already bought the most expensive one, can you make this one at a discount?"

The traffickers exchanged glances at each other as they considered this.

"She's not of much use to us, other than as a back door, if you understand what I mean.  I doubt she'd sell for more than a couple cents."

A couple cents, Bingquing scoffed internally.  Her father would have started crying from laughter if someone had presented this situation to him while drinking.

The men shook hands as the coins were exchanged.  The soldier grabbed her hands and Bingquing made a little screech.  The soldier gave her a long glare as the market throng took notice of them.  "This servants hands are tender from blisters and burns."  Bingquing said slowly as she showed him her hands.  She was careful to keep her head low.

The soldier appraised her quickly before rolling his eyes, "I got ripped off.  The Master is going to be angry if I can't even buy slaves right."  Even though his temper had flared, the soldier helped her into the carriage gently.  The sharp control he had over his emotions was unsettling.

In the carriage Mo'lan threw her arms around Bingquing.  The sleeves were a too bit long on her so her hands looked a bit like a thin wooden puppet without a master at her strings.  "Qing-er"  Mo'lan began as she thrust about her sleeves dramatically, "This is a start of a new life for us.  I'm sure that you came from a poor village in the South to work in the city.  I'm a maid with a face like the moon and you are a maid with a plain face.  You should, when we meet the handsome and rich Master the guard was speaking of, become my spy.  I'll help you in all things and you can help me in the Master's harem.  It'll be cutthroat and I'll be the belle that rules them all."

Bingquing was not sure that there would be a harem or that Mo'lan had been bought for those reasons.  But she nodded anyway.  She had had enough run ins with harem women that she knew it was wise of her father to not remarry after his wife had died.  The palace harem women were said to cut out a tongue every month to make a lunar blood soup that made their skin so pale.  To be the servant of such a person, what a stupid idea.  Her head was still bowed and her smile stayed radiant, but her heart was heavy.

Mo'lan spent the whole carriage ride imagining all the riches.  Every bump and turn she would look out the window hoping to see some grand building.  But every one she pointed to they passed.  "Why are we starting to leave the suburbs?"  Mo'lan said indignantly.

When the ride seem to become neverending, they abruptly stopped.  Bingquing could see a tree outside overhanging a wall lined with spearheads.  The tree was hanging limply as it was a dried husk of what it had formerly been which at it's prime would have been a very majestic tree.  As a conclusion, Bingquing predicted they were not in fact at the home of a rich man.  As she went outside, she saw her conclusion confirmed.  The house, although large and well made, was in poor condition.  It wasn't in shambles yet.

The guard escorted them to a bare essentials drawing room.  He told them to kneel and rattled off a list of rules.  "You will not make eye contact with the host unless the privilege is granted to you.  You will not look anywhere to your own fancy.  You will kneel and look down only.  No fiddling.  No questions.  No going to refresh your makeup.  Sit and wait."