Delivering Oneself to Be Slapped in the Face

Rare holiday, and another fine day. Zhu Shian didn't linger in bed this morning; she got up a little after seven, had breakfast, and by not yet eight o'clock, the main house's front courtyard hall was already filled with people—the Zhu family women doing their work while gossiping, children running around and playing.

The hall was so noisy that even Xiaobai, who loved to hang from the rafters, couldn't bear it and ran off. When Zhu Shian went to the front courtyard, she happened to see Xiaobai strolling along the wall's base, her tail wrapped around a roll of books.

Quite a strange sight.