The Xuande incense burner glowed with pearly, jewel-like colors, burning blended incense mixed with rosewater. Birch Wood charcoal gave off heat in the brazier inside the room, stopping the wind and snow outside at the door. There was no smoke in the room, only the fragrance of incense and face powder. And in that warm, drowsy haze, Zuwaro opened his eyes and saw silk gauze curtains hanging down, light and thin, floating with a shimmering glow.
"Where am I?"
"Master, you're awake? Would you like some food?"
".? Who are you? Can you speak Jurchen?"
"I can. This humble one is here specially to serve Master. Master may call this humble one Zhu'er. Qing'er is waiting outside. Qing'er, go bring Master some pastries. Master's throat is a little hoarse, and bring another bowl of pear soup."
"It's been simmering all along!"
The crisp female voice was like an oriole's first cry, and carried a little of the gentle grace trained into her by the Jiaofangsi, like the most docile deer's call. Zuwaro wanted to turn over and see what the woman looked like, but a burst of sharp pain ran through his hips and legs, and he could not muster any strength.
"Hiss!"
"Ah! Careful, Master. You've only just been injured, so you shouldn't move about. Just lie there and let this humble one serve you! Your medicine was only changed last night, all of it the finest white medicine. And what you suffered are only flesh wounds. In another couple of days, you'll be able to get out of bed."
"? Serve me? What is this white medicine? Urgh! What did you feed me—hiss! So sweet, you woman, urgh."
Warm pear soup flowed into his mouth, but only after the woman had blown on it and passed it over