The Girls of Sparrow Tower

It was the fifth year of the Republic of China, and things were still fairly peaceful.

I was fourteen that year. Most days, I learned to play the pipa and sing from my master. In my spare time, I ran errands for the older girls.

I was one of the three girls Aunt Qiu had brought in from outside. The three of us were all pretty, and Aunt Qiu said we looked clever and sturdy, the sort who were easy to raise. That's why she took us in.

I knew what kind of place I'd come to, and I let them call me whatever they liked. I got enough to eat and warm clothes, I could read and write, and I could make myself look pretty. Let them say what they wanted!

It was just that the master teaching us our skills was too strict. One mistake and she'd beat me or punish me.

Our establishment was called Sparrow House. Aunt Qiu said all the girls in it were sparrows, none of them could become phoenixes, and there was no point dreaming foolish dreams. So she simply called it Sparrow House!

Every girl in the house could read and write, and each had some kind of skill. Some were good at embroidery, some could sing opera, some could dance, and others had beautiful handwriting! They said that no skill ever went to waste, and that learning more and honing your skills would help you make a living when you grew old and ran out of money.

One older girl who left Sparrow House early also told us not to be foolish. In this line of work, money was the only thing that mattered.

I was just an ordinary girl, no different from all the other common beauties. There isn't much to say about me, but there is about my older sisters. Some left long ago, and some are gone now. I don't mind if they get mad at me.

What's wrong with my blurb? I wrote it perfectly seriously. It's your thinking that's narrow. Reviewers, you need to learn to be flexible and think things through. You can't graduate and leave all twelve years of reading comprehension behind with your teachers.

Can you tell me what's wrong with it? I'm just writing a few stories, that's all, just the lives of those girls. Isn't it a bit much to make things difficult for a little author like me? Or do you want to see what I'll say next? I clearly wrote it seriously! I'm not changing it! Three strikes and you're out! I won't change a single word of the original blurb again!

You're going too far. Don't make me curse you out. I'm not writing erotica. Can't I write about courtesans? Can't I write about the Republican era? Which word did I get wrong?

Theme: Sincere love in the present, happiness is hard to come by.