Raising her hand to beckon, Du Zhaoyi signaled Bi Ying to come forward. She proactively reached out to hold Bi Ying's hands, gently rubbing Bi Ying's palm and fingertips with her own fingers, feeling a rough texture.
A sudden ache pierced Du Zhaoyi's heart. Bi Ying was her personal palace maid, brought from home into the palace, serving her since childhood, and they had grown up together. She had never suffered any hardships, her duties only involved handing her a cloth, serving tea, or combing her hair. Saying she never lifted a finger is no exaggeration; she was even more pampered than the daughters of some wealthy families.
But ever since she fell out of favor, those who served her became negligent, and to take good care of her, the inexperienced Bi Ying began to learn to work and take care of her own needs.
Her once delicate hands now grew calloused, yet without complaint. It could be said that Bi Ying was her most loyal confidante, the person she could trust the most.
