"Little Young Master, don't be afraid, Nanny is here with you!" The Old Maid kept patting his back, comforting the wailing Situ Zhi.
"Nanny, why do I feel my hands are so dirty? It's so scary."
Situ Zhi kept wiping his palms, it was these very hands that he had climbed out of the dry well holding a skull. Ever since he knew it was a skull that he had clutched, he hadn't stopped vigorously rubbing his hands, almost rubbing the skin raw, turning it red and raw.
"Oh dear! Little ancestor, stop rubbing, you're going to bleed!" Seeing the boy distressed, the Old Maid urgently grabbed Situ Zhi's hands to stop his rubbing.
"But they're so dirty." Situ Zhi cried and wailed.
"Nanny will take you to wash your hands clean, that should be fine, stop rubbing, little ancestor, I'm begging you, Old Madam will be heartbroken to see this."
No matter how the Old Maid tried to soothe him, Situ Zhi continued to cry and desperately rub his palms, as if he wished he could chop off his own hands.
