I opened my eyes to a dark room lit by the soft glow of candlelight.

  A cursory gnce of my surroundings reminds me of where I am.

  Last night I had fallen from my painting and found my painter dead on the floor. Gssy eyes and a gaunt figure that had likely been very beautiful once.

  She looked a lot like me. Flowing white hair that fell down to her waist, sharp eyes that spoke of intelligence and a defined face. The deep scars across her cheeks didn’t hide the high cheekbones and carved chin that gave her an almost harsh beauty.

  Like the beauty of a sun, too bright to look at directly lest it burn you.

  After taking her in my arms and lifting her softly into the painting I had just fallen out of, I had found myself suddenly very tired and had id down on a nearby futon to rest.

  I looked around the room. It was sparsely decorated and devoid of amenities. Just the bare few needed to survive. If that

  Thump thump

  “Madam Xiu? Have you woken up yet?”

  Xiu must have been the name of my creator.

  What to do… do I respond or remain silent? Perhaps I should try to act like Xiu and take her pce since she created me to be her…

  “Madam?”

  “Yes? I-I’m awake.”

  Retreating steps echo down the hall away from my door. That must have been my creators attendant. The memories imbued into me from my creator give the voice I’d heard a face and a name.

  Ah Fan.

  young and impressionable, she hadn’t necessarily mistreated my creator. But she had followed the direction of the other servants nonetheless. The more memories I looked through, the worse of a picture it all painted.

  Xiu had been treated so poorly by even the house servants… what had she ever done to deserve such treatment?

  Nevertheless, I had made a promise st night. As I pced my creator into the painting, I swore to her that I’d live the life she never could. Which meant I’d need to leave this pce.

  I couldn’t stay in this miserable house of serpents. But it wouldn’t be easy to escape. Xiu had tried to leave many times. In her memories, she had been caught and thrown back by the gate guards many times. If I hoped to escape I’d need to think of some way to pass by without their notice.

  Grrrrrrrrrwl

  But perhaps I should find something to eat first. Who knew paintings could get hungry?

  I slide open the door a crack and peek out into the hallway. No one in sight. Should be safe to step out.

  Slowly I tiptoe out. One step, then two. Before I know it, I’m quickly making my way through the hallways toward the sound of a kitchen. The clink of a spoon against a bowl, and knives thudding against a cutting board, the crisp sizzle of meat juices drizzling over a roaring fire.

  My mouth couldn’t help but water.

  I poke my head around a corner and look inside. My eyes swivel side to side, taking in the sights. Shining vegetables dropped into a bubbling pot alongside a crispy pork belly, seasoned to perfection.

  Oh what I wouldn’t give to just have a single bite-

  Thwack

  My head swings back as I accidentally lean too far and my head bonks into the side of the door.

  The cook turns around in surprise.

  “Finally decided to come out of your room didja? Well sit down. The master doesn’t want you starving yourself again”

  He grabs me by the shoulders and looks closely at my face. The scent of his rank breath hits me and I can’t help but lean back.

  “Ya look a little different. Your face is fuller than it was since you starved yourself a month ago. You been stealing food from the table again?”

  Gulp. Surely I don’t look too different right? No one seemed to notice yet that I wasn’t their madam Xiu. I really hoped I could keep up the ruse.

  He leans back and waves his hand at me

  “Well it aint my business either way. Sit yourself down and I’ll pour you a bowl. You aren’t allowed at the masters table so you’ll be eating with us servants instead.”

  I’m certainly not compining. As long as I get to eat something I’ll be satisfied. I sit down at a table and wait as the cook brings over a bowl.

  He smacks it down on the table and I learn forward in excitement.

  Only to immediately wrinkle my nose at the scent of stale broth.

  “Didja think you’d be getting some of this?” the chef gestures haphazardly toward the cooking pot with a spoon, spshing drops of broth all over the floor.

  “You’re eating the masters leftovers from yesterday, and you’ll be happy with it. Just cause I gotta keep you from starving doesn’t mean I gotta be nice about it”

  I sigh and stir at the broth in the bowl. I won’t st long enough to escape if I don’t put something in my stomach.

  I finish the bowl in a few quick gulps. It’s certainly not terrible. It’s only a day old. Stale, but not molding. With something in my stomach, I take the opportunity to quickly leave.

  I’m still wearing only a bedrobe and sleeping cap. I’ll have to check if the servants have actually washed anything.

  I make my way through the hallways toward the back yard, where servants usually wash clothes in the river that flows through.

  Sure enough, I find my clothes strewn around the yard. They’ve been cleaned, but they’re stained and some even torn.

  I pick up a light purple cheongsam. The least stained item I own it seems.

  I return to my room and dress myself as a shadow crosses over my face. I can’t help but think about what’s happened so far. I’ve only been here for a mere few hours yet my creator Xiu had been enduring this treatment for years.

  How could it come as a surprise that she ended her own life? Who could even endure this as long as she had? Who else could possibly handle the pain she had seen and still have the strength to pass their will on to another?

  Yet she had. And I stood as living proof of that will.

  As I thought to myself, I found my hands moving as if on their own. Grabbing a small cy pot from a shelf, and dipping my fingers into it. My hand withdrew covered in a thick blue liquid.

  Paint. Whenever Xiu was stressed, she would paint. It makes sense that some of her habits would reside in me. If I intended to live as she hoped I would, then I would embrace these small bits left of my creators mind.

  I sat down and pulled out a fresh canvas from behind a shelf. Xiu had evidently hidden a few painting utensils from her husband before he could take all of them.

  All that I needed now was a brush. I felt a pull, and let my body lead me. My hands reached to push my futon out of the way, and lifted a loose floorboard. There y a brush.

  A thin calligraphy brush, dark wood mingling with silver and embossed with a name. Xiu

  The bristles were soft and flowed to a thin point lightly stained with the memories of previous paintings.

  I dipped the brush into the paint and lifted it to the canvas