Power of the Matchmaker by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: matchmakers, love, romance, sweet romance,
Publisher: Mirror Press
Published: 2015-11-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Mae staggered from beneath the cart she’d slept under all night. Her mind was groggy, but she didn’t want to encounter another angry fisherman’s wife. Her limbs felt hollow, and as she walked along the newly awakening street, she searched for anything to eat. The rickshaw puller who’d driven her from Nanjing Road the day before had demanded payment, so it was with a heavy heart that Mae parted with her final coppers.

Her only valuable possession now was the pearl comb from Chen. Selling that would be akin to working in a brothel. Mouth dry, stomach concave, she moved in and out of the morning shadows. She stopped in a daze and stared as a young boy scampered in front of her and swiped a cruller from a vendor cart. The vendor gave chase and moments later, the boy was huddled in the street crying beneath a switch.

A police man rushed over, grabbed the boy, and the vendor huffed back to his cart.

If Mae had been quicker, she would have thought to steal her own cruller during the commotion. But she’d been frozen in place. The boy was a thin slip of a person; he looked like Mae felt: starving.

She moved away from the commotion, forcing herself to take one step after the other, even though she wanted to collapse from exhaustion. She pushed forward, keeping her eyes out for a discarded bit of food. But there was nothing.

Mae avoided the area that she’d run into Daiyu, and took another road until she finally reached Nanjing. The day was still early, and Nanjing Road was quiet, although the lower streets of Shanghai were fully awake.

Knocking on the Shi family door, Mae waited breathlessly for it to open. Soon, she’d be settled and fed. This time the woman who’d interviewed her opened the door.

Mae smiled and was about to greet her, when the woman said, “We’ve hired Mr. Shi’s niece. There is no job here now.”

Mae stared at the woman, and it was only when she started shutting the door, that Mae’s senses came alive. “I can clean. I can work in the garden. I—”

“We’re not hiring any servants or gardeners,” the woman said, shutting the door firmly.

She stood for a moment, stunned, hardly breathing. This couldn’t be happening. She needed employment. Her chest hurt, her feet were swollen, her legs ached, and her head pounded.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she exhaled, then inhaled. Perhaps if she stayed on the front porch, someone would take compassion on her. Someone would hire her. She’d even work for food only.

Suddenly the door opened, and Mae looked up, hope soaring through her. A mistake had been made; they would hire her after all.

It was the little girl from the day before. “They will call the police if you don’t leave,” she spat out, her tone clear and concise, beyond her young years. Then she shut the door again.

The sound of the slammed door echoed through Mae’s mind, reverberating against her ears. Somehow she climbed to her feet and made it to the road.

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