Heat.
Scorching waves of heat, carrying the stench of burning and blood, wrapped around every inch of skin like a viscous liquid, choking his mouth and nose.
The world before him was shattered, swaying, drenched in scarlet. Broken halberds and snapped spears jutted from the scorched earth. Tattered banners fluttered feebly amid thick smoke, the Marquis of Ningyang's emblem soaked in blood and blurred beyond recognition.
Battle cries, screams, the clash of metal, the neighing of warhorses... every sound mingled into a continuous, deafening drone.
"Father-!"
Chu Moqi heard his own hoarse roar, trembling with despair. Not far ahead, he saw that familiar, mountainlike figure in black armor-his father-surrounded by dozens of Wute cavalrymen. The spear in Chu Rong's hands still swung, tracing arcs of blood, but his movements had grown sluggish, and arrows bristled from his black armor.
One, two, three... more arrows struck his father's body hard, carrying the distinctive whistle of Wute arrows. Chu Rong's tall frame swayed, but he did not fall. He merely planted his spear in the ground, barely holding himself up.
"Father!" Chu Moqi's eyes nearly split at the corners as he charged forward like a madman. He had to get over there! He had to reach his father!
But the earth beneath his feet seemed to turn into quicksand, or stretch endlessly. He ran with all his strength, yet his father's figure only seemed to grow farther away. The fighting around him grew more brutal. Blood-soaked comrades kept falling beside him, warm, sticky liquid splashing his face with a nauseating smell of rust.
Stray arrows came like locusts, blotting out the sky. He swung his silver spear to block them, the clanging ringing together until the webbing between his thumbs and forefingers went numb. All his attention was ahead, on that figure about to fall.
"A-Qi! Watch out!"
A familiar bellow, broken by rapid breaths, rang out beside him! His elder brother!
Then a tremendous force slammed into him from the side, knocking him hard to the ground! As the world spun, he heard his brother's hurried breathing and the sharp sounds of a spear swinging and knocking arrows aside.
"Brother!" Chu Moqi struggled to rise.
"Stay down!" Chu Molei's voice carried an unquestionable command, along with a trace of... something unusual that he had failed to notice then.
Just as Chu Molei swung his spear again to block several stray arrows for him, a dark figure rushed in like a ghost! It was the Wute chieftain, his face painted with savage war paint. The curved blade in his hand traced a chilling, vicious gleam, striking with precision and ruthlessness-into Chu Molei's back and out through his chest!
Time seemed to freeze at that moment.
Chu Moqi watched helplessly as the bloodstained tip of the curved blade emerged from his brother's chest, carrying fragments of flesh and bloody froth. Chu Molei's body went rigid. The weight pinning him down instantly slackened. Those eyes, always smiling and indulgent, widened in disbelief, then rapidly lost their light. A trickle of scarlet spilled from the corner of his mouth.
"Brother-!!!" Chu Moqi let out an inhuman howl.
He wanted to get up, wanted to cut that Wute chieftain into a thousand pieces!
But at that moment, an enormous shadow fell over him-the Wute chieftain's warhorse brought an iron hoof as broad as a bowl crashing onto his lower back with crushing force!
Crack-!
It was the clear, brittle snap of breaking bones, mingled with the dull sound of flesh and sinew being violently crushed. An indescribable agony beyond anything he could endure exploded like the fiercest poison, racing along his spine into every limb and bone!
It was not the sharp pain of a weapon piercing him, but a heavy, crushing, devastating agony, as though his entire body were being torn apart at the waist! His organs seemed to have been displaced and shattered by that hoof. Darkness and sparks instantly flooded his vision, and a great gush of sweet, metallic blood surged into his throat.
He could not even manage a full scream, only an extremely brief gasp, followed by suffocating, dying despair.
Mounted on his horse, the Wute chieftain looked down at him with cruel excitement in his eyes. He raised his curved blade again, aiming at his neck to deliver the final blow.
No! I can't die! Father and Brother haven't been avenged!
The agony of dying and overwhelming hatred combined into a savage force. Chu Moqi did not know where his strength came from. An instant before the blade fell, he suddenly thrust out both hands and clamped them around the Wute chieftain's neck as he leaned down beside his warhorse!
"Urgh...!" The Wute chieftain clearly had not expected this boy, whose spine had been crushed and who should have died instantly, to have any strength left to resist. His eyes bulged under the stranglehold, and the curved blade in his hand veered off course.
"Die! All of you, die-!!!" Nothing remained in Chu Moqi's mind but destruction. He tightened his hands with every last scrap of strength he had left. His knuckles cracked, as though he meant to crush that fragile throat outright! He could feel the other man's throat shifting and struggling futilely in his hands, the terror of death passing through the trembling skin.
But the other man was also struggling desperately, with astonishing strength. He could barely hold him anymore...
"Young master... A-Qi... A-Qi..."
Who? Who was calling him?
The voice was very faint, very distant, as though coming through a thick layer of water. It was not a battlefield sound... was... was it Mother? Was Mother calling him?
Mother... was still waiting for them... waiting for Father, for his brother, for him... to return to the capital in triumph together...
He couldn't let go... if he let go, he would die... they hadn't been avenged...
But... something warm and wet seemed to be dripping onto his tightly clenched hands? Was it rain? The rain on South Mountain... why was it warm?
"A-Qi... A-Qi... cough, cough... cough, cough, cough... sob..."
The voice grew increasingly urgent, carrying painful coughing and sobs, right beside his ear. The struggles felt by the hands around the "enemy's" neck were also growing weaker, yet there was a... soft sensation, unlike a warrior's skin?
Cui Wan's face had flushed red and purple, her eyes bulging slightly from severe lack of air. Tears rolled down in great drops like pearls from a broken string, falling onto the backs of Chu Moqi's hands as he gripped her neck, soaking them.
She could barely breathe. Her chest burned, darkness washed over her vision, and her ears buzzed. With the last of her strength, she struck futilely at Chu Moqi's arms, only broken rasping sounds escaping her throat.
She regretted it... she should never have come in...
An incense stick's worth of time earlier, she had been startled awake by repeated dull thuds from the next room, as though someone were kicking the bedboards, interspersed with irrepressible groans of pain. The sounds came intermittently, especially clear and frightening in the silent night.
Terrified, she pulled the quilt over her head, but the sounds still crept in. Was it Chu Moqi? What was wrong with him? Was he having a nightmare, or... did his legs hurt?
She agonized for a long time, fear and worry tugging back and forth in her heart. Finally, she still climbed up, trembling. With only an outer robe draped over her, barefoot, she quietly pushed open her door like a thief, then pushed open the door to Chu Moqi's room even more gently.
No lamp was lit inside. Only hazy moonlight filtered through the window paper, barely illuminating the outlines. She saw Chu Moqi lying on the bed, his quilt kicked aside. His entire body was shaking violently, his teeth chattering, his forehead covered in cold sweat.
What stunned Cui Wan most was that his paralyzed legs were actually kicking the bedboards over and over, making those dull thuds!
His legs... couldn't move, could they? How could...
Before she could make sense of this, the man on the bed seemed to sense her approach and abruptly opened his eyes! In the darkness, those eyes were bloodred and utterly unfocused, filled only with killing intent and madness!
"Ah!" Cui Wan gave a short cry of alarm and turned to run.
But it was already too late.
Chu Moqi moved with astonishing speed, seizing her slender neck and slamming her against the edge of the bed before tightening both hands!
"Mmph...!" Cui Wan instantly lost her breath, and immense terror engulfed her. She struggled desperately, but her strength was insignificant against Chu Moqi's.
"Young master... young master... let go..." She forced the words from her throat with difficulty, tears pouring out.
Chu Moqi did not react. His hollow eyes stared into empty space, and his hands tightened more and more, as though he truly were strangling a mortal enemy on the battlefield.
Cui Wan's consciousness began to blur. In her despair, somehow, she remembered what Tang Xiang occasionally called him. With her last thread of strength, she sobbed out that name:
"A... A-Qi... cough, cough... A-Qi..."
The pressure from his hands seemed... to pause, ever so slightly?
Cui Wan seized that faint chance. Through tear-blurred eyes, she looked at his face, so close yet utterly lifeless, and continued pleading in a breathy voice, "A-Qi... let go... sob... it's me... Cui Wan..."
More tears fell, striking the backs of his taut hands.
That warm, wet sensation, and the faint, broken calls beside his ear, carrying that familiar name...
The savage face of the "Wute chieftain" before him began to waver and blur, gradually losing its blood and war paint to reveal a small, deathly pale face covered in tears.
Was it... Cui Wan?
The frenzied killing intent rapidly receded from Chu Moqi's bloodred eyes like an ebbing tide, replaced by utter confusion and... incredulous shock. He saw clearly where his hands were gripping-that slender, fragile neck already bore horrifying red and purple finger marks. The person in his grasp was looking at him with the eyes of someone near death, frightened and hurt, tears streaming down her face.
As though burned, Chu Moqi abruptly released her.
"Cough, cough! Cough, cough, cough-!" The sudden rush of air irritated Cui Wan's throat, and she began coughing violently. Her body slid limply down the edge of the bed until she sat on the cold floor, clutching her neck and gasping for breath. Her tears flowed even harder, from the lingering terror of narrowly escaping death, and from inexpressible hurt and pain.
Chu Moqi also slumped back onto the bed, his chest heaving, cold sweat pouring down his forehead. He lowered his head to look at his slightly trembling hands, then at Cui Wan, curled into a ball on the floor and coughing as though her heart and lungs would tear apart. His eyes were filled with confusion, shock, and a trace of... helplessness and remorse that even he had not noticed.
Just then, the door to the room burst open with a bang! Yan Qin and Yan Huai rushed in one after the other, clearly awakened by the brief but violent commotion.
They took in the scene at a glance-Chu Moqi sat on the bed with disheveled clothes, his head covered in cold sweat, his gaze unfocused. Cui Wan was curled up on the floor, clutching her neck and coughing violently, her small face deathly pale and streaked with tears. Several vivid red finger marks stood out on her slender neck, shocking even in the dim light.
Qiaoju followed close behind, her clothes slightly disheveled, clearly also drawn by the disturbance. At the sight of Cui Wan, she sucked in a frightened breath and hurried forward to help her up. "Madam!"
Hearing the voices, Cui Wan seemed even more frightened and gave a violent shudder. Instinctively, she looked up at Chu Moqi on the bed, her eyes filled with unconcealable terror and lingering fear. Her lips trembled as she incoherently repeated in a small voice, "Don't... don't kill me... I was wrong... I shouldn't have come in..."
Her terrified gaze stabbed at Chu Moqi. The dream images of fighting, his legs being broken, and strangling the "enemy" collided and intertwined with the reality of nearly strangling her, tightening his already chaotic nerves further.
And now, Yan Qin, Yan Huai, Qiaoju... so many eyes had seen it! They had seen him lose control and go mad, seen him at his most wretched, unable even to control his own body!
Especially his legs... the agony from the nightmare seemed to retain its force, and now they began spasming and twitching uncontrollably again, their unnatural trembling clearly visible. An immense wave of shame and fury swept over him. Almost crazed, he abruptly snatched the rumpled quilt beside him and covered his useless legs with rough, forceful movements.
Cover them! Hide them! No one could see! Especially... her!
Then he forced himself to straighten his back and lift his chin, mustering all his strength to arm himself with his customary coldness and ferocity. His sharp gaze stabbed toward Cui Wan, still trembling on the floor. His voice was unusually hoarse from his earlier shouting and tension, yet he deliberately pressed it low and icy, carrying an unquestionable threat:
"Did I give you permission to come in?"
He stared at Cui Wan's abruptly contracting pupils, enunciating each word as though driving it into her heart. "If you enter my room without permission again... I cannot guarantee you'll leave alive."
His words were utterly ruthless, even carrying lingering killing intent. Qiaoju went deathly pale at the sound, the hands supporting Cui Wan trembling.
The chill in his words sent a shudder through Cui Wan. Immense hurt and lingering terror surged up again, and her tears fell harder, but she bit her lip fiercely, not daring to make another sound. Her whole body merely shook like a fallen leaf in the wind. The burning pain in her neck and the terror of nearly suffocating to death left her barely able to stand.
"Get out and go back to your room!" Seeing her remain still, Chu Moqi grew even more agitated and barked at her.
"Yes... yes..." Cui Wan's voice was thick with tears, her wits scattered by fright. Supported by Qiaoju, she stumbled away on unsteady feet, fleeing the suffocating room. That thin, trembling figure vanished into the dim corridor outside.
Only when Cui Wan's figure had vanished completely, only when Qiaoju gently closed the door from outside, shutting out the world.
Chu Moqi's straightened back instantly collapsed, like a bow drawn taut and abruptly released. Cold sweat instantly soaked his inner robe, leaving it clinging cold and sticky to his skin. The leg spasms he had forcibly suppressed slipped completely out of control. The violent, uncontrollable shooting pain drew a muffled groan from him, and his entire body began trembling helplessly, his teeth chattering.
Just now... he had almost... strangled her to death.
Those tearful eyes filled with terror, the vivid red finger marks on that slender neck, her final, faint "A-Qi," and the warm tears falling onto the backs of his hands... every detail replayed in his mind with perfect clarity.
Why had she come in? Had she heard something? How much had she seen? Had she seen him having a nightmare? Seen his legs spasm? Seen him strangling someone like a madman?
Was she... all right? The injuries on her neck... were they serious? Had she... been terrified?
Countless questions surged up like a tide, leaving him agitated, his head aching as though it would split.
Chu Moqi, look at yourself! Not only are you a cripple, you can't even control your own nightmares, and you nearly killed someone! Killed that... timid, annoying, but... but seemingly never truly wicked little fool.
A fierce wave of self-loathing rose in his heart. No matter how much he hated this marriage, despised the Cui family's schemes, or wished not to see her... it should not have been like this. It should not have been this almost instinctive, violent harm.
"Young master, take your medicine." Yan Qin's steady voice interrupted his thoughts as he offered a small pill with a clean, bitter scent. The physician had prescribed it to calm the mind and ease palpitations and pain.
Chu Moqi silently took it and swallowed it dry, its bitterness spreading through his mouth.
Yan Huai had already fetched the medicinal oil with practiced ease. Kneeling beside the bed, he lifted a corner of the quilt, exposing Chu Moqi's faintly trembling legs, their muscles taut from spasms. Expertly, he poured some oil into his palms and rubbed it warm, then began massaging several acupoints and the tense muscles in his legs with measured pressure.
For a time, only the smell of medicinal oil and the faint sounds of Yan Huai's rubbing remained in the room.
Yan Qin and Yan Huai exchanged a glance, each seeing deep worry and helplessness in the other's eyes. Their young master's nightmares had never stopped since his return from South Mountain, each more dangerous than the last. This time, he had even...
"Ah..." As he massaged, Yan Huai could not help sighing softly, his tone carrying some disapproval and a reminder. "Young master, young master, not to criticize you, but you... were far too heavy-handed. You nearly killed Madam. She's timid enough already. How could she bear such a fright from you? This time, I fear you nearly frightened her soul right out of her. You saw how she looked just now..."
Chu Moqi kept his eyes shut, allowing Yan Huai to massage him. At those words, his thin lips pressed tighter, and his fingers curled unconsciously. He knew Yan Huai was speaking the truth. But admit he had been wrong? Show concern for that little crybaby? Absolutely impossible.
He cut Yan Huai off stiffly, with a trace of barely perceptible irritation. "She came in on her own. She brought it on herself." As though that could push all responsibility away.
Beside them, Yan Qin spoke even more steadily than Yan Huai, but with some disapproval as well. "Young master, perhaps Madam was... worried about you. She heard noises in the night and came to check because she was concerned."
Worried about him?
That inexplicable irritation in Chu Moqi's heart intensified, mixed with an extremely faint trace of guilt that even he had not examined. He did not want to consider why Cui Wan might have come in, much less admit how excessive his own actions had been.
"I'm fine now." He ended the subject stiffly, his voice weary and cold. "I'm tired. Leave."
Yan Qin and Yan Huai exchanged a glance, knowing their young master had retreated into his hard, icy shell again. Saying more would be useless and might only make him more irritable.
"Yes, young master," they answered together. Yan Huai carefully tucked him in and straightened the bedding before quietly leaving the room with Yan Qin, gently closing the door.
Silence returned to the room.
Chu Moqi lay alone in the darkness, his eyes open, staring at the indistinct bed curtains overhead. Under the effects of the medicinal oil and massage, his leg spasms gradually subsided, but the wrenching pain and helplessness remained distinct.
From next door came faint, suppressed, intermittent sobs. Like a slender thread, they drifted into his ears and wound around his heart, refusing to leave.
She was crying.
Crying with such hurt, such fear.
Chu Moqi felt that agitation rise in his heart again, mixed with an unfamiliar trace of... unease that left him at a loss.
Why should he feel uneasy? Let her cry. What did it have to do with him? She had insisted on barging in, seeing him at his most wretched, and had nearly been strangled by him... she should fear him. From now on, she ought to stay far away!
Yes, that was it.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut out those faint sobs, and trying to suppress the small, confused feelings in his heart that should never have been there.
"From now on... don't let her into my room again." He repeated those words to himself once more, as though that could ensure such an unsettling accident would never happen again, and ensure that no one could easily glimpse through his fragile disguise again.
But that night, neither Cui Wan, weeping softly next door, nor Chu Moqi, forcing himself to remain calm here, was destined to find sleep easily.