Clara had actually been worrying that nothing eventful would happen during her month at the Ding estate.
If that were the case, and she simply took two taels of silver as payment, Master Ding would likely feel she hadn't earned it—that she took the money without lifting a finger. It wouldn't sit well with him.
But now? She had nothing to worry about.
The entire household was sound asleep. From her room, Clara could still hear Bea snoring next door.
The Ding estate kept only two guards overnight. One watched the second courtyard and its storerooms. The other was stationed outside Emily's courtyard. But even he hadn't noticed anything outside.
Quietly gripping her blade, Clara opened the door without a sound and slipped into the corridor, hiding behind one of the wooden pillars.
She had assumed the intruder would come into the backyard. To her surprise, a shadowy figure scaled the courtyard wall—heading straight for the second courtyard.
The objective was obvious: theft.
Hidden in the shadows, Clara went unnoticed. The thief's gaze passed right over her as he scanned the interior.
Crimes like these were usually committed in pairs. Clara watched as the first thief slipped into the second courtyard. Then, with the grace of a cat, she stepped into the shadows, leaped lightly, grabbed the eaves, and with barely a sound landed on the rooftop.
From that height, she spotted the wooden beam wedged against the outer wall—thick as a grown man's arm.
That's how the thief had gotten in, scaling the beam to climb the wall and sneak toward the estate's inner court.
At the base of the wall stood another man, tall and thin, likely in his early twenties, glancing around nervously.
Clara landed soundlessly behind him.
He wasn't made of strong stuff. With a gasp, he let out a startled yelp.
That tiny cry was enough to wake the courtyard guards. One of them bellowed, "Who goes there?!"
Clearly, the thief inside had been discovered.
The one in front of Clara turned and bolted. She flipped the back of her blade out and struck him in a single move. The shadow collapsed instantly.
In two steps, she was upon him, striking the back of his neck with her hand. He crumpled—unconscious.
Clara retrieved her blade. Without even looking, she flicked it backward in a seamless, practiced motion.
"AHHH!!"
A scream erupted from the top of the wall. The other thief, trying to flee, was slashed down. A gleaming knife stuck out from his thigh, blood pouring.
It wasn't until they saw the knife that Giles and the other guards realized who had struck the thief down.
"Miss Clara!" Giles shouted from the courtyard.
Clara answered from beyond the gate, dragging the unconscious thief into the courtyard.
With a loud thud, both criminals were tossed to the ground.
A guard pulled the knife from the man's leg and returned it to Clara—eliciting another round of howling from the wounded thief.
Clara frowned. "Gag them. Tie them up. Deliver them to the authorities at first light."
The guards and Giles hurried to fetch rags and rope. They stuffed the thieves' mouths, bound their limbs, and tossed them into the woodshed—no chance for pleading.
Butler Hugh soon arrived, hurrying across the courtyard. The matter had already been resolved. He nodded gratefully to Clara and told her she could rest—he would handle the rest.
Clara gave a small nod and withdrew to the inner courtyard.
Inside the main house, lights flicked on. Emily's worried voice called out, "Did you catch the thief?"
Clara answered, "Just two petty thieves. I caught them as soon as they entered. It's all taken care of. It's late, miss—go back to sleep."
There was a brief pause.
Then came a soft "Alright."
The lights dimmed again, and all returned to silence.
Clara went to the kitchen, scooped some water, and cleaned her blade thoroughly. She wiped it dry with cloth before returning to her room and laying down.
She slept soundly, as if nothing had happened at all.
But if Clara could sleep in peace, Emily and her maids certainly could not. The moment Clara rose the next morning, they were already waiting, eager to hear about last night's events.
Clara summarized it briefly, then asked, "Are we still reading today?"
Emily, immediately distracted, nodded eagerly, and the two resumed their cheerful role-play lessons.
By noon, Butler Hugh came to report.
"The two thieves have already been handed over to the authorities. Thanks to Miss Clara's quick response, they didn't succeed. No property was lost."
He added that only a bit of blood had stained the roof tiles above the second courtyard wing, but Giles had already scrubbed it clean.
Emily merely "oh"-ed in response. The household had been robbed before. As long as nothing was lost, she wasn't too concerned. She just told Butler Hugh to assign more night guards.
She was more interested in teaching.
"Clara, since we've been reading for days now, how about I teach you painting today?"
Clara asked with curiosity, "What shall we paint?"
"Well, the Dragon Boat Festival is in two days. Let's paint rice dumplings!"
So it was almost the Dragon Boat Festival. Clara mentally counted the days—it did seem about right.
She wondered how Lester and the kids back home were planning to spend it.
Painting was far harder than reading. Clara wasn't used to holding a brush, and she went through sheet after sheet of practice paper—each failure hurting her heart more than her pride. But Emily remained full of enthusiasm, insisting that Clara must learn to paint a dumpling.
Most of the "scrap" paper had only one side used. The other side remained blank. Clara couldn't help but ask what would be done with the waste.
Emily paused. "I'm not sure. Usually, Nanny Qiao takes them away. I think they use them to light the stove in the kitchen."
Clara frowned. "There's still room to practice writing on the other side. Seems like a waste to burn them."
"You want them?" Emily asked, raising an eyebrow.
She knew that sometimes the servants repurposed old paper—occasionally even as toilet paper. She herself never used it again, so she didn't care. But she hadn't expected Clara to be the type to care about such a trivial matter.
Clara didn't care what Emily thought. She simply found it practical. The blank areas could be cut and reused as notepaper.
She nodded. "If miss is willing, I can trade for it—I'll catch you a few birds to play with."
"Really?" Emily's eyes lit up. "Live birds?"
Seeing Clara nod confidently, Emily immediately revised her impression—maybe Clara wasn't so petty after all. At least she was offering a trade, not just asking for handouts.
Catching birds was easy for Clara. That afternoon, while Emily napped, Clara went up the wooded hillside where she used to gather firewood. In no time, she returned with two live sparrows.
Ivy ran to find a birdcage, placed the sparrows inside, and proudly brought them to Emily.
"You really caught them!" the girl squealed in delight. Waving her tiny hand, she declared, "Nanny Qiao, all the scrap paper from my study this month—give it to Clara!"
"Oh! And if you can catch me a squirrel, I'll give you my picture book of early illustrations! I've read it so many times anyway."
Clara raised an eyebrow. Was this her lucky day?
With a laugh, she confirmed, "Miss wants a squirrel?"
Emily nodded vigorously, tossing decorum to the wind.
So Clara went to the mountains again. With a simple trap, she caught a gray squirrel and traded it for a copy of Enlightenment Illustrations.
Clara was eager to trade for more books and asked Emily if there was anything else she wanted.
But Emily, now content with her new pets, felt satisfied. Still, she gave Clara open access to all the books on her shelf.
Clara smiled softly. That worked too.
(End of Chapter)
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