The faint light of dawn filtered through the window paper, casting hazy, chilly shadows inside the side room. Chu Moqi had endured almost the entire night with his eyes open. Dark circles stood out beneath them, and his complexion was paler and duller than usual.
Yan Huai stepped as lightly as he could when he came in carrying hot water and a clean cloth. First, he cautiously stole a glance at Chu Moqi's face. Though exhausted, his eyes had regained their usual cold composure-on the surface, at least. Only then did Yan Huai breathe a little easier.
As he helped Chu Moqi rinse his mouth and wash his face, Yan Huai's gaze drifted almost imperceptibly over the legs beneath the thin blanket. His hands paused, and an awkward smile crossed his face, as though he wanted to say something but hesitated.
Chu Moqi naturally noticed. He took the wrung-out cloth without expression and wiped his cheeks and neck, saying evenly, his voice hoarse from a sleepless night, "They didn't spasm again last night."
Yan Huai visibly relaxed at that and nodded repeatedly. "That's good. That's good." He had been afraid his young master's leg ailment would flare up. That truly would have been frost piled atop snow.
Yet his relief lasted only a moment. Involuntarily, Yan Huai cast another extremely discreet glance at a certain spot beneath Chu Moqi-there was a faintly unnatural bulge in the contours beneath the blanket.
Chu Moqi naturally sensed that too-or rather, he knew his own condition better. He closed his eyes briefly, his thick lashes casting small shadows across his pale face. When he opened them again, there was nothing in them but an indifference that resembled resignation. His voice grew lower and heavier. "It's full. Change it."
"Right away!" Yan Huai answered immediately. Along with his relief, his movements grew brisker. With practiced hands, he lifted a corner of the thin blanket, untied Chu Moqi's underpants, removed the thoroughly soaked, heavy diaper, quickly replaced it with a fresh one, and tied his underpants again. The entire process was swift and quiet, marked by a heartbreaking familiarity formed over years.
He had long since become adept at attending to these matters for Chu Moqi, but every time, he could keenly sense the silent resistance and suppressed humiliation emanating from his young master.
Throughout it all, Chu Moqi kept his eyes shut and let Yan Huai handle him, his body as rigid as stone. He moved only the slightest bit when cooperation was absolutely necessary. A faint medicinal smell hung in the air, mingled with a barely perceptible, distinctive odor left by incontinence, making the silence even more oppressive.
Yan Huai worked deftly and soon finished, then helped him into clean, comfortable inner robes. Only after all that did he truly breathe a sigh of relief. As he gathered the used items, he secretly watched Chu Moqi's expression, looking thoroughly pent-up, as though he had something to say but dared not say it.
"If you have something to say, say it." Chu Moqi finally opened his eyes and swept a chilly gaze toward him, a trace of impatience in it. "Why pretend to be mute?"
Yan Huai shrank under his gaze, gave two dry chuckles, and scratched his head. "Well... I was afraid you might suddenly take a swing at me, like you did to Madam last night..." He had meant it as a joke to ease the atmosphere.
The instant the words left his mouth, Chu Moqi's face darkened, and his gaze shot toward him like blades of ice.
Realizing his mistake, Yan Huai was frightened into immediate silence. He hunched his shoulders and muttered, "You just said I was pretending to be mute, and now you won't let me talk..."
Chu Moqi gave a cold snort and turned his gaze toward the window. He remained silent for a long while. Just when Yan Huai thought he would say nothing more, he asked quietly in an exceedingly flat tone, as though mentioning it in passing:
"She... cried all night?"
At first, Yan Huai failed to realize who "she" was. He froze, then understood, an "I knew it" expression appearing on his face. He quickly concealed it and answered properly, "Young Master, according to Qiaoju... Madam did indeed... cry terribly hard. She only gradually stopped in the latter half of the night. She must have been badly frightened. And those marks on her neck... ah, they're frightening just to look at."
Chu Moqi said nothing. His fingers resting on the thin blanket curled almost imperceptibly. His gaze settled somewhere in empty space, as though weighing something. Only after a long while did he seem to make up his mind and give a stiff instruction. "The Snow-Skin Jade-Dew Ointment in my medicine chest, and the Spirit-Calming Powder. You... take them to her."
Yan Huai blinked, immediately answered, and went to fetch them. Snow-Skin Jade-Dew Ointment was a superb remedy for scars and swelling, while Spirit-Calming Powder was excellent for soothing the mind and easing fright. His young master had certainly thought things through.
Chu Moqi took the cool porcelain bottles, held them in his palm for a moment, then handed them back to Yan Huai. His gaze drifted toward the door, and his voice grew still quieter, almost as though he were talking to himself. "Take them to her. And while you're there... while you're there..." He paused, apparently finding the next words difficult to utter. "Check her injuries... just... how serious they are."
Yan Huai took the bottles, but froze at those words, a troubled expression appearing on his face. "That's not right, Young Master. She's Madam. I... I'm to deliver medicine to her and... and examine her injuries? That... that goes against propriety. Surely that's far too improper..."
Chu Moqi was already uncomfortable. Challenged like this by Yan Huai, he immediately found it hard to save face. Irritation surged through him, sharpening his tone. "Who told you to examine her yourself? Go tell Qiaoju to do it. Surely that will do!" He was annoyed. Was he supposed to deliver the medicine himself, apologize, and examine her? He could not swallow his pride!
Seeing him grow agitated, Yan Huai hastily nodded like a pestle pounding garlic. "Yes, yes, yes! Understood. I'll tell Qiaoju right away. I'll make certain the medicine reaches Madam and have Qiaoju examine her injuries carefully!"
He turned to leave, only to stop as though remembering something. Looking back, his face showing a mixture of concern and a probing disregard for his own life, he cautiously asked, "Then, Young Master... aren't you... going to apologize to Madam? After all, last night..."
Before he could finish, something darkened his vision. Chu Moqi scooped a wet, still-steaming cloth straight from the washbasin and, with the speed of thunder that left no time to cover one's ears, stuffed it accurately and forcefully into his open mouth!
"Mmph-!" Caught squarely, Yan Huai's remaining words turned into muffled whimpers. His eyes went perfectly round as he frantically tugged at the cloth in his mouth.
Watching Yan Huai flounder in utter disarray with the cloth stuffed in his mouth, Chu Moqi's expression remained icy, but some of the anger in his eyes faded, leaving only an irritation that said, "That's what you get for running your mouth." His thin lips parted, and he coldly uttered, "Get out."
Yan Huai finally pulled the wet cloth free and spat twice. Looking miserable, he dared not say anything else. Clutching the two medicine bottles, he turned to slip away.
"Wait."
Yan Huai stopped and looked back at Chu Moqi, a question and a barely perceptible trace of anticipation in his eyes-had his young master changed his mind?
Chu Moqi did not look at him. His gaze rested on the wheelchair beside the bed, his tone flat but his instruction unquestionable. "I meant, push me outside. Are you that eager to run off?"
"...Huh?" Yan Huai froze, then caught on and nodded hastily. "Yes, yes, yes. Whatever you say."
Yan Huai dared not ask any more questions. He briskly pushed the wheelchair to the bedside, then stepped back, lowered his hands, and turned away to wait for Chu Moqi to move himself.
This was a rule Chu Moqi himself had established-unless he explicitly asked for help or his body truly could not bear it, he had to do things such as getting in and out of bed and moving short distances himself.
Chu Moqi drew a deep breath, braced his arms at his sides, and began to exert himself. Years of exercise and supporting his body had kept his upper body strong, but below his waist and abdomen, he felt as though he had been filled with lead, heavy and unresponsive. Every transfer from bed to wheelchair was a silent, arduous battle against his own disability.
He clenched his teeth, his arm muscles tightening with exertion as fine beads of sweat seeped from his temples. First, he laboriously shifted one leg to the edge of the bed, then the other. The process was slow and halting. His legs seemed not to belong to him, requiring every ounce of his will to drive those feeble nerve connections. Then he gripped the wheelchair's armrests tightly. His arms unleashed tremendous strength once more, "dragging" his heavy lower body off the bed little by little. Finally, drawing on the last remnant of strength in his waist and abdominal core, he heaved-
Thud. With a dull sound, he finally dropped heavily into the wheelchair.
The whole process had taken only a dozen or so breaths, yet it seemed to have exhausted most of his strength. He leaned against the backrest, panting slightly. His face was paler than before, and sweat slid down his temples.
Throughout it all, Yan Huai held his breath and watched intently, ready to step forward to support him at any moment, yet not daring to reach out rashly. Only once Chu Moqi was seated securely did he quietly breathe a sigh of relief. He turned and stepped forward to adjust his posture, straighten the somewhat disheveled hem of his inner robes, and cover his legs with the thin blanket.
Chu Moqi closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. When he opened them again, his outward calm had returned. "Let's go."
Yan Huai answered and pushed the wheelchair smoothly out of the side room.
The early-morning air in Orchid Courtyard was slightly cool, carrying the scent of plants and earth. The sweet fragrance of osmanthus seemed stronger than yesterday, drifting over in wisps. Sunlight fell through gaps in the leaves, scattering dappled spots of light.
The wheelchair rolled over the bluestone path with a steady, muffled rumble.
Seated in his wheelchair, Chu Moqi appeared to gaze calmly ahead, but his thoughts were tangled like hemp. He raised a hand and rubbed his aching temple irritably.
Apologize?
Have him apologize to that little crybaby?
Merely imagining the scene made him uncomfortable all over. It would be harder to endure than killing enemies on a battlefield.
But... Yan Huai said she had cried all night, and the injuries on her neck were frightening...
Those tearful eyes, filled with terror when he had lost control last night, appeared vividly before him again.
Chu Moqi closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, laden with endless weariness and frustration.
What a mess this all was...
"You-you-you! What are you doing here? Madam only woke a little while ago, and her eyes are still swollen. She doesn't look well, so you're not allowed in to look at her!"
Carrying the two bottles of medicine, Yan Huai reached the main room's door. Before he could knock, it creaked open from inside. Qiaoju was just coming out with a basin. At the sight of him, she jumped back in fright, nearly spilling the water. Collecting herself, she immediately spread her arms across the doorway like a hen guarding her chicks.
Yan Huai found it amusing, but worked hard to keep his face stern. Imitating his elder brother Yan Qin's steady manner, he cleared his throat, lowered his voice, and said solemnly, "Don't be alarmed, Miss Qiaoju. The young master ordered me to come."
He held out the two small porcelain bottles. "These are medicines from the young master. This bottle is Snow-Skin Jade-Dew Ointment. It dispels bruising and reduces swelling, with remarkable effects on external injuries. Please apply it to Madam's injuries three times daily. This bottle is Spirit-Calming Powder. It soothes the mind and eases fright. One pill a day for three consecutive days should help Madam feel considerably better."
Qiaoju accepted the bottles suspiciously and carefully examined the small lettering on them, confirming that they were excellent medicines for injuries. She looked up at Yan Huai again. Though the man before her was trying hard to keep a stern face, something about his eyes seemed a tiny bit livelier than the Guard Yan she usually saw. Unable to help tilting her head, she asked tentatively, "You... are you Yan Qin?"
Yan Huai was blooming with delight inside, but his expression did not change. He even deliberately pressed his lips together to look more serious, then nodded. "Indeed. The young master also instructed me to... er, ask Miss Qiaoju to help examine the injuries on Madam's neck and determine whether anything else is wrong, so that I can report back to him."
At that, Qiaoju immediately pouted unhappily and muttered, "Wasn't the young master the one who did it himself... and now he's asking..." Despite her words, she stepped aside and said quietly, "Then you... wait in the outer room. No looking inside! I'll go ask Madam."
Yan Huai promptly agreed and stood properly in the outer room.
Before long, Qiaoju came out of the inner chamber and motioned him inside, though her eyes still warned him not to look around.
Yan Huai composed his expression before cautiously entering the inner chamber. Cui Wan sat leaning at the table in plain inner robes, her long hair unbound and loose over her shoulders, making her small face look even paler. Her almond-shaped eyes were indeed swollen like peaches, their lashes lowered, leaving her looking listless. Most jarring were the distinct finger marks on her slender neck, already beginning to turn purple. Against her fair, tender skin, they looked especially hideous and frightening.
Hearing footsteps, Cui Wan timidly raised her red, swollen eyes and looked at Yan Huai.
Yan Huai promptly cupped his fist in a proper salute, deliberately keeping his voice steady. "This subordinate, Yan Qin, greets Madam. The young master ordered me to deliver medicine and... inquire about your injuries."
Cui Wan stared blankly at him and blinked. Instinctively, she raised a hand to cover the marks on her neck, but felt it was futile. She could only lower it again and bow her head, speaking very softly. "Th-thank the young master for me... I... I'm fine..."
Seeing her looking so pitiful and still shaken, then looking at those shocking injuries, Yan Huai lost all desire to play around. It was replaced by helplessness over his young master's "brutality" and sympathy for this frail madam.
At the same time, a "brilliant" idea rapidly took shape in his mind-wasn't his young master stubbornly refusing to admit anything? Wasn't he unable to swallow his pride? Then he would... help by reporting back "truthfully"!
He immediately adjusted his expression to look graver, as though hesitating to speak. Then he cupped his fist again and said heavily, "In that case... please rest and recuperate, Madam. Do not dwell on things or worry too much. Be certain to use this medicine on time. I... shall take my leave. I must still... report back to the young master."
With that, as though afraid of giving himself away, he hurriedly turned and retreated with quick steps, leaving the main room in a flash.
As Cui Wan watched his hastily departing figure, the tiny warmth that had just risen in her heart quickly cooled again, replaced by deeper disappointment and embarrassment.
Had Chu Moqi sent him? Had he come... to see how wretched she looked and laugh at her for deserving it? Or... merely to confirm that she wasn't dead, so he could report back?
She drew in her neck. The marks burned painfully, bringing waves of aching bitterness to her heart as well.
Watching Yan Huai leave, Qiaoju returned to the bedside with her delicate brows knitted, muttering, "Who knows which Yan he actually is... They look exactly alike and even sound much the same. I really can't tell them apart." She placed the two bottles on the low table beside Cui Wan's hand and pointed at them. "Madam, this medicine... really was sent on the young master's orders. He even specifically... told that Yan... to ask about your injuries."
Cui Wan raised her head, her gaze settling on the two small, exquisite porcelain bottles on the low table. The medicine bottles were cool and smooth, gleaming softly in the morning light. Snow-Skin Jade-Dew Ointment... Spirit-Calming Powder...
Had he truly... sent someone to bring them?
Remembering Chu Moqi's frost-cold treatment of her these past few days, his mocking words on their wedding night, and his crazed, blood-red eyes as he gripped her throat last night... Cui Wan's spirits, which had only just settled a little, sank again. Her nose stung, and her eyes reddened once more.
She felt wronged and sad, along with an indescribable sense of loss from some faint expectation coming to nothing.
What did he mean... by sending medicine? Did he feel guilty? Or... was he merely afraid that if she died, he would have no way to answer to the Cui Family, or would be unable to fulfill the task of carrying on the family line?
She dared not think too deeply, afraid that if she thought too much, even that faint, possibly existing goodwill would turn into still deeper mockery.
"Qiaoju," Cui Wan said hoarsely, her voice thick with congestion, "help me... apply the medicine."
In the end, she accepted the bottle of medicine. Whatever his purpose, the injuries on her neck truly hurt and truly looked ugly. She did not want to bear those marks and constantly remind herself of last night's terrifying experience.
Qiaoju promptly answered and carefully removed the stopper from the Snow-Skin Jade-Dew Ointment. A crisp medicinal fragrance spread through the air. Dipping a fingertip into a little of the cool ointment, she applied it to the injuries on Cui Wan's neck with extreme gentleness. Cool against her skin, the ointment eased the burning pain slightly.
Meanwhile, Yan Huai, who had slipped out of the main room, was striding along the covered corridor, rapidly plotting how to report Madam's "wretched condition" to his young master "exactly as it was," so that he would go see her himself.