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❝A maid strong a stainless steel, a woman brave as a lion. They underestimate me, they don't know what I'm capable of.❞
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The notes coming from the liuqin floated like silk. Amidst the gentle sway of the Orient Express, its mournful notes curled like wisps of smoke, drifting through the gilded dining car where a solitary maid played by the window, her music a fragile echo of forgotten dreams. Luan Jia was someone firmly tethered to the earth, to reality, but her music spoke a different story to its listeners, almost entrancing. Her fingers glided along the strings of the liuqin as though they were crafted to play, performing to the silence of the cart, to the birds that glided along the skyline above, and to the bees perched on the yarrow below, transforming sweet nectar into golden honey.
Her bright eyes surveyed the scenery through the glass now, a mixture of fascination and quiet appreciation. Yuxan would have loved the green fields they were passing through now. She thinks longingly of her brother back home, of reliable hands, of the warm scent of jasmine that clung to his clothes after a day working the Bai gardens. The fields blurred past like a watercolour painting, but her mind lingered on memories of home-of Yuxan's laughter ringing through the house, the way he would carefully tend to each flower as though it were a treasure, bringing Jia back the fallen petals cupped preciously in his hands. The liuqin's melody softened as her thoughts deepened, heartstrings plucked by the distance between her now and those people that made a home.
