【Empty Garden】(Chapter 1)

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Chapter One
Leaving the Bride's Home
My fingers gently swayed back and forth in the deep milk, feeling the silky smoothness on my fingertips. I habitually watched
the incense stick slowly burn out on the jade bathtub. This bathing had been a daily routine since I could remember, each day
the same, the only difference being the milkmaids.
When each incense stick burned out, it was time for them to add more milk. Watching the maid, her face already showing some wrinkles
, light the second incense stick and gently shake the ancient copper bell in her hand, the sound of which always gave
a soothing feeling. Sometimes I wondered how such a small bell could produce such a melodious sound.
But the maid rarely spoke, except when calling me; everyone in the entire garden was quiet.
Looking at those rows of fair breasts laid out in the emerald green jade-like grooves, pairs of clean white hands
silently emerged from behind them, beginning to knead those tender white mounds. Watching the drops of milk splash into
the depths of the emerald green jade channel, gradually covering the cold, dark green stone with a warm, white glow,
a strange feeling always filled my heart.
Looking at those somewhat distorted breasts, I had many fantasies, imagining myself one day having
my own milk bags like them. I told the servants about it, and soon after, I was inexplicably punished by being forced to face the wall in confinement.
Once, out of curiosity, I touched the breasts that were producing milk. I saw the owner of those breasts blush,
and the milk ducts on their breasts widened. I leaned half my body out of the milk pool, my head close to those white, fleshy mounds, and
felt heavy breathing above me. The breasts heaved rapidly. I found it very interesting, but before I could
do anything else, a servant slapped me with a large palm-leaf fan. Those breasts were gone from my life forever. I never saw
them again, but their flushed face, their white breasts, and the pale yellow droplets dripping between their legs as they were dragged away
… I still remember them vividly. I didn't stop them, nor did I plead for them; I just watched them go
…
The next day, I was slapped for the first time. The large, fluffy hairs of the palm-leaf fan brushed against my body. That was the first time I
realized how sensitive I was. The fine tips of those hairs swayed before the tiny pores near my navel,
until they passed an inch below it. My body went from twitching at first to uncontrollably convulsing. That terrifying
experience finally passed. Although I was young then, it taught me a lot and left a
deep impression on my future…
In the house, there was a clear spring, sometimes even warm. After each milk bath, I would
wash away the sticky residue from my body in the spring.
Today, after only two incense sticks, the servant pulled me out and quietly helped me wash my body in the spring water.
I loved the feeling of her gently stroking my body, loved the warm look in her eyes…
“Servant!” “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” I rubbed against the servant in my grandmother’s childish voice.
The servant took a small step back, lowered her head, and said, “Today is the day to see the master. Prepare to go after burning incense.” "
I've always been endlessly curious about the master I've heard people talk about since I was a child. Everything I've heard is fragmented and
incomplete, yet people are reluctant to discuss it further.
'Servant! Will I ever come back?' I asked timidly. I didn't want to leave this place, didn't want to leave this
familiar place.
'You won't come back! If the master wants you, you stay with the master; if he doesn't want you, you leave the garden.' The servant
calmly spoke to me, as if everything was unrelated to her.
After we came out, walking on the gravel path, the servant took my hand and led me into a grove of trees I'd never been before. I
suddenly looked back at the path I'd taken. The servant just stood quietly to the side, neither stopping me nor saying anything, just silently
looking into the distance. I tried hard to remember the house that had been with me for ten years. Looking at the ancient plaque
, the characters were the same ones the cook had taught me to recognize a few days ago: 'Ruquanju' (乳泉居), with the signature Tang Yin. Much later,
I learned that the person who inscribed this plaque was very famous, and that this was the only clerical script he ever wrote." Of course, that
's all a story for later.
The servant led me through a dark grove of trees, bringing me to a small, dark red building nestled against a rocky outcrop
. Two simple characters were inscribed on the building: "Mountain Building."

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【Empty Garden】(Chapter 1)

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