For the next few days, the atmosphere in Orchid Courtyard was frighteningly oppressive.
Chu Moqi wore a dark expression, finding fault with everything he saw. Yan Qin and Yan Huai bore the brunt of it, punished with ten fast laps around the entire Orchid Courtyard every morning, under the fine-sounding pretext of "stretching your muscles so you can serve more efficiently."
Yan Qin fared well enough, keeping his composure and accepting the punishment in silence; Yan Huai, however, suffered terribly. Running until he could barely catch his breath, he grumbled privately to Yan Qin, "Young Master's taking all the anger he got from Madam out on us!"
Yet after dealing with Yan Qin and Yan Huai and making them run for several days, that nameless fire had not subsided. Instead, it churned even more fiercely inside Chu Moqi.
He began to notice something-Cui Wan had disappeared.
No, more precisely, Cui Wan had stopped coming near him. For three whole days in a row, she had vanished from anywhere he could perceive.
Was she really that timid? All he had done was... was snap at her a few more times after waking up that morning. He might have been... a little more irritable than usual, just a tiny bit... and that had frightened her so badly? Made her hide?
No.
Chu Moqi quickly rejected that thought, a deeper gloom rising in his heart.
She had not been frightened. She had seen.
She had seen his disgraceful drunken state, the ridiculous swelling on his forehead, the chaos and loss of control that even he could not master. So she found him repulsive now, found him laughable, thought he was not merely a cripple, but a monster who could not even hold his liquor or control his emotions.
And then she had started avoiding him.
That realization was like a fine thorn lodged in the most sensitive part of his heart, leaving him endlessly agitated. He kept recalling the scene that morning, trying to distinguish some emotion beyond fear in Cui Wan's tear-filled eyes and trembling voice-disgust? Contempt? Gloating?
Had there been any?
But the images in his memory were blurred and confused. Only those startled eyes remained especially clear.
The more he recalled it, the stronger that feeling of being "disdained" became, setting his heart ablaze with anger that had nowhere to go.
Chu Moqi inspected himself in the blurry bronze mirror again and again. The swelling on his forehead that had filled him with shame and fury had finally subsided completely, leaving only a faint bluish mark that was impossible to notice without looking closely.
Once he had confirmed that his face had at least regained its usual cold, hard contours, that awkward little urge to ascertain something finally overcame the awkwardness itself.
That afternoon, the autumn sun made a rare appearance through the clouds, spilling a few faint rays of light. Chu Moqi wheeled himself to the door of the main room.
He stopped outside and looked at the tightly closed door. He raised his hand, paused, then lowered it again. His fingertips curled unconsciously against the armrest.
In the end, he chose not to knock. Instead, he cleared his throat and called into the room in his customary tone, edged with coldness and impatience, "Cui Wan!"
His voice was not loud, but it carried clearly enough through the quiet afternoon corridor.
There was silence inside for a moment, so long that Chu Moqi almost thought no one was there. Just as that agitation began surging up again, the door creaked open a crack.
The face revealed was not Cui Wan's, but Qiaoju's, looking somewhat alarmed and troubled.
"Y-young Master..." Qiaoju bent her knees in a curtsy, her gaze wavering and her voice very small.
To Chu Moqi, her behavior only confirmed his suspicions-Cui Wan really was inside! And she had sent Qiaoju out to deal with him because she did not want to see him!
An emotion he could not identify as anger or disappointment surged up, burning away what little reason he had left. Without another word, he pushed hard, forcing his wheelchair into the inner room.
"Cui Wan!" he raised his voice, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room.
Then he saw Cui Wan.
She was lying in bed beneath a thick brocade quilt, with only her small, bloodlessly pale face showing. His angry shout seemed to startle her. Her long lashes trembled, and slowly, with some effort, she turned her head to look at him. Her usually watery almond-shaped eyes looked dull now, and the dark circles beneath them were clearly visible.
She looked at him, her lips moving without producing any sound at first. Then, very softly, with her usual timidity, she answered, "A-Qi..."
Her voice was soft and weak.
Seeing her lying in bed only strengthened Chu Moqi's thought that she really was avoiding him. What hour was it, for her to still be in bed? Was she pretending to be ill? Was she even resorting to an excuse like this to avoid seeing him?
That inexplicable anger inside Chu Moqi burned hotter, but he could hardly ask her outright, "Why are you avoiding me?" What would that look like?
He held his neck stiffly, his gaze wandering before landing on the osmanthus tree outside the window, its leaves already beginning to yellow. An utterly clumsy excuse slipped out, carrying an awkward stiffness he did not even notice himself:
"Get up! I... want osmanthus cakes..."
The moment he said it, even he thought the excuse was utterly stupid. What season was it already? It was late autumn, and nearly all the osmanthus blossoms had fallen. Where was she supposed to find any to make them?
Cui Wan seemed stunned too, falling silent for a moment. Chu Moqi saw her long lashes tremble and quickly lower, hiding her eyes. Her lips pressed tightly together, as though she were struggling to suppress something.
Was she going to cry again?
Chu Moqi's heart tightened. Amid his irritation, a trace of inexplicable regret rose. Was he making things too difficult for her because the osmanthus blossoms were almost gone? Should he... ask for something else?
Just as Chu Moqi's thoughts tangled, and he even began to regret his foolish excuse, Qiaoju, who had been attending by the bed, finally could not hold back. "Madam..." she called softly and urgently, then hurried to the bedside and carefully tried to help Cui Wan sit up.
Only with Qiaoju's movement did Chu Moqi's gaze finally focus properly on Cui Wan.
Only then did he see that Cui Wan was not merely pale. Fine beads of cold sweat covered her forehead and temples, and her lips had lost their usual pale pink, looking somewhat dry and cracked. Supported by Qiaoju, she seemed to try to push herself upright, but the instant she moved, her brows knitted tightly, as though she had disturbed some terribly uncomfortable spot. Her whole body was limp and weak, supported entirely by Qiaoju.
She was not pretending! She really was ill, and she looked... quite seriously ill!
Something seemed to seize Chu Moqi's heart in a crushing grip. His earlier agitation, suspicion, and anger were instantly replaced by an unfamiliar panic. Instinctively, he wanted to wheel himself closer, his hands already settling on the wheel rims.
But the instant his fingertips touched the cold wood, he abruptly stopped.
What was he doing? Why should he go over? What did her being ill or not have to do with him?
A deeper, almost instinctive awkwardness and recoil forced Chu Moqi to halt. He swiftly averted his gaze, no longer looking at Cui Wan's weakness, and stared instead at the carvings at the foot of the bed. He tried to keep his voice cold, even adding a trace of deliberate disdain:
"...Lie down," he said stiffly. "I don't want any anymore."
Cui Wan and Qiaoju both froze, looking at him in bewilderment.
Their stares made Chu Moqi even more uncomfortable. His jaw tightened, and he repeated, almost as an order, "Lie down properly!"
Only then did Cui Wan seem to understand him. With Qiaoju's help, she slowly lay back down, though her dull eyes still looked at him with timid confusion.
A subtle silence settled over the room. Chu Moqi felt the roots of his ears grow warm. He stared at the shadow his wheelchair cast on the floor as though it were something extraordinarily interesting. Only after a long while did he squeeze a few words from his throat, his voice much lower and drier than before:
"What... is wrong with you?"
Cui Wan seemed not to have expected him to ask. After a moment's silence, she answered quietly, "Nothing... just some abdominal pain..."
Abdominal pain? Chu Moqi's brows drew tighter. Almost without thinking, with an almost instinctive agitation he did not even recognize himself, he blurted out, "Did you eat something bad? Always eating whatever you please... serves you right..."
He regretted it a little as soon as he said it. His tone had been too harsh, as though he were accusing her.
Sure enough, at his words, Cui Wan's eyes immediately reddened again. Her voice thick with grievance and tears, she protested softly, "It's... it's a girl's discomfort..."
A girl's discomfort?
Chu Moqi froze at first, failing to understand. Then a thought flashed through his mind like a spark of lightning. Coupled with her pale face, abdominal pain, and weakness... he understood at once.
Heat rushed to Chu Moqi's cheeks and behind his ears with a roar, even making his neck burn. Almost in a fluster, he abruptly spun the wheel rims beneath his hands. With a creak, the wheelchair turned to face away from the bed.
He pushed his wheelchair, wanting to flee this room that left him so unbearably embarrassed, moving so fast he almost stumbled. But after barely moving a couple of steps, he suddenly remembered that Cui Wan and Qiaoju were still watching him from behind! If he fled in such blind panic, would that not make him seem even more...
Chu Moqi forcibly steadied his wheelchair and drew a deep breath, trying to suppress the heat in his face and the panic in his heart. With his back to them, he used the last of his strength to maintain that crumbling shell of coldness and stiffly tossed out a sentence:
"Women... are such a nuisance."
Then he stayed no longer, swiftly turning his wheels and "escaping" the main room almost as though fleeing in defeat.
The icy autumn wind struck his face, yet it could not disperse the scorching heat there or the regret churning like overturned rivers and seas in his heart.
He felt like an absolute bastard!
What was he doing?! Cui Wan had clearly been unwell, in so much pain that her face was white and cold sweat poured down her skin, barely able to sit up. Not understanding was one thing, but he had actually gone there to pick a fight, using an excuse so clumsy it was laughable and saying so many rotten things!
Calling her a nuisance? For all he knew, she was curled up in bed now, crying her heart out from hurt and misery because of her discomfort and his words!
Chu Moqi, were your legs not enough? Was your heart about to rot through as well?!
Agitated, he slammed his fist against the wheelchair's armrest with a dull thud. His knuckles throbbed, but the pain was nowhere near as sharp as the regret in his heart.
Inside the main room.
Just as Chu Moqi had imagined, the moment he left, Cui Wan could no longer hold back the tears she had been suppressing, and they rolled down in great drops.
How could he say that about her...
"Women are such a nuisance"...
She knew he had a bad temper, knew he did not like her, but... but she had not wanted to be such a nuisance. Her stomach hurt terribly, she felt cold all over, and she had no strength at all...
It would have been one thing if he simply did not care, but he had even made a special trip over to say such hurtful things in such a fierce tone...
The more Cui Wan thought about it, the more wronged she felt, and her tears flowed even harder. Sobbing softly, she mumbled brokenly, "I... I don't like him anymore... he's so awful... sob..."
Qiaoju was beside herself with worry. She hurriedly wiped Cui Wan's tears with a handkerchief and gently patted her back, comforting her. "Madam, please stop crying. Be careful not to harm your health. Young Master... that's just his temper. Don't take it to heart. Your health matters most right now. You mustn't get upset..."
But Cui Wan was too hurt and miserable to listen. Having someone comfort her only made her cry harder.
Seeing that she could not stop crying and that her small face was growing even paler, Qiaoju worried she really would cry herself sick. She thought of asking the kitchen whether they could make some hot ginger tea to warm her up. Perhaps that would help her feel better.
Just as Qiaoju rose to go give the instructions, a soft knock suddenly came from the outer room.
"Madam, this servant has brought you some things." It was a young maid's voice.
Qiaoju frowned. Who was coming to disturb her at a time like this? She went over and opened the door. Seeing two unfamiliar young maids who did rough chores, she blocked the doorway and said quietly, "Madam is unwell and resting. She isn't receiving anyone. Whatever it is, come back later."
Unexpectedly, one of the young maids timidly raised the tray she held. On it sat a steaming white porcelain bowl, from which drifted the faint, spicy-sweet scent of ginger. The other maid held a bed warmer wrapped in thick cloth.
"G-guard Yan gave the orders. He said to bring Madam some things to ward off the cold and warm her up..." the maid holding the ginger soup explained softly.
Qiaoju froze. Her eyes swept over the still-steaming ginger soup and the toasty bed warmer, and she hurriedly stepped aside to let them in.
The two young maids entered quietly, set the things on the table, then curtsied and withdrew.
Qiaoju closed the door, quickly unwrapped the thick cloth around the bed warmer, and tucked it beneath Cui Wan's quilt. Then she brought the ginger soup to the bedside.
Somewhat bewildered by this sudden care, Cui Wan stopped crying. With reddened eyes, she looked at the steaming bowl of ginger soup and the warm bed warmer in her arms, then asked hesitantly, "Qiaoju, did you arrange this?"
Qiaoju shook her head, equally confused. "No. This servant was just about to go. Those two little maids said it was... Guard Yan's orders."
"Guard Yan?" Cui Wan blinked her wet eyes.
"Yes," Qiaoju said, frowning in thought. "How strange. Which Guard Yan is so kindhearted? How did he know you were unwell, Madam?"
Cui Wan said nothing, merely holding the bed warmer and feeling its warmth slowly seep into her abdomen, easing some of the unbearable cramping. The sweet, spicy scent of ginger soup drifted into her nose, seeming to restore a little feeling to her icy body.
Her gaze settled on the wisps of steam rising from the ginger soup. In a corner of her heart, a thought quietly, cautiously emerged.
Could it have been... him?
Although he had been so fierce and impatient earlier, still...
"Maybe it was him..." Cui Wan murmured softly and uncertainly.
Qiaoju was testing the ginger soup's temperature and did not hear clearly. "Hm? What did you say, Madam? Yan Qin? That's what I thought. It must be Yan Qin. When has Yan Huai ever been so attentive?"
The warmth of the bed warmer and that faint expectation in her heart brought an extremely pale, almost invisible blush to Cui Wan's white face. She pressed her lips together, her voice growing softer, yet carrying a sweetness she herself did not notice:
"It was... A-Qi..."
Qiaoju's hand shook, nearly spilling the ginger soup. Her eyes widened as she stared at Cui Wan in astonishment. "Young Master?!"
She carefully recalled Chu Moqi's icy manner just now, how he had tossed out a hurtful remark and fled in defeat, and simply could not connect him with this timely bowl of ginger soup, so thoughtful and warming to the stomach.
But seeing that faint yet stubborn light in Cui Wan's eyes, Qiaoju swallowed the doubts on the tip of her tongue, questions rising in her own heart. Could it be... that Young Master really was only stubborn with his words? That he actually still had... a little conscience?
"Madam, don't think so much for now. Your health matters most." Qiaoju fed Cui Wan the ginger soup, now at a suitable temperature. "Drink it while it's hot, warm yourself with the bed warmer, and get some sleep. Perhaps you'll feel much better."
The ginger soup was warm and slightly spicy, sliding down her throat and warming her stomach. Together with the steady warmth from the bed warmer in her arms, it made Cui Wan feel that the cold, sharp pain that had kept tormenting her lower abdomen really had eased considerably.
After Cui Wan finished the ginger soup, Qiaoju helped her lie down again and tucked in the quilt. Only when she saw Cui Wan's tightly knitted brows finally relax a little and her breathing gradually become steady did she feel reassured.
After Cui Wan fell asleep, Qiaoju carried the empty bowl out and gently closed the door. She stood guard outside, still finding what had happened somewhat unbelievable. Young Master... would actually do something like this? Had the sun risen in the west?
She had been on guard for less than an hour when familiar, swaggering footsteps sounded along the corridor. Qiaoju looked up, and sure enough, Yan Huai was sauntering over.
Qiaoju immediately stood and blocked the door, lowering her voice. "Y-Yan Huai! What are you doing here? Madam is resting. She isn't receiving anyone."
Amused by the way she looked as though facing a formidable enemy, Yan Huai waved a hand and lowered his voice too. "Who said I wanted to see Madam? It's Young Master. He wants you to come over."
Young Master wanted her... for what...
Uneasy, Qiaoju nonetheless followed Yan Huai to Chu Moqi's study.
Inside the study, Chu Moqi sat in his wheelchair reading. Hearing them, he did not even lift his head, as though he were deeply absorbed.
Qiaoju carefully curtsied and greeted him. "Young Master."
Chu Moqi cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on the pages as though they contained something of the utmost importance. He deliberately made his tone casual, even somewhat offhand:
"Mad... ahem." He paused, apparently finding the title "Madam" a little awkward, and corrected himself. "How is Cui Wan... now?"
Head lowered, Qiaoju answered honestly, "Young Master, Madam has had the ginger soup and used the bed warmer. She's asleep now."
"Mm." Chu Moqi acknowledged her again, seemingly without emotion. But Qiaoju keenly noticed that his tense shoulders seemed to relax just a fraction.
It seemed Cui Wan must be feeling better, Chu Moqi thought. The ginger soup and bed warmer had arrived reasonably promptly.
Did this mean... her constitution was rather weak? Suffering like this every month was too cruel. Chu Moqi knew little of women's matters, but seeing how the pain had turned her face white, he imagined it must be terribly unpleasant. Perhaps... he ought to find a way to nourish her health in the future? Otherwise, having this happen every time would be too tormenting. Simply enduring it was no solution either. It would be best to find a trustworthy physician to examine her and prescribe something to improve her condition...
With all these jumbled thoughts running through his mind, Chu Moqi momentarily forgot that Qiaoju was still standing before him.
Qiaoju waited a long while without hearing any further instructions. She secretly raised her eyes for a glance and saw him staring at the pages, brows slightly furrowed, apparently deep in thought, though his mind was clearly not on the book. She was unsure whether she should keep waiting or ask to leave.
While she hesitated, Chu Moqi finally seemed to return from his thoughts. He casually flipped through the pages before him, pretending to be busy and merely mentioning something in passing. Still not looking at Qiaoju, he spoke with deliberate casualness:
"Well... when she wakes up... tell her... something." He paused, apparently weighing his words. Finally, his voice dropped, carrying an almost imperceptible awkwardness. "I... was talking nonsense."
As soon as he finished, he immediately picked up another book and opened it, almost burying his face in it. The tips of his ears, however, uncontrollably took on a suspicious red tinge.
Qiaoju froze at first, then immediately understood-Young Master was apologizing for that remark, "Women are such a nuisance"!
Though this way of apologizing...
"Yes, this servant understands." Holding back a smile, Qiaoju curtsied respectfully. "This servant will take her leave."
The moment Qiaoju left, Yan Huai, who had been standing to one side all along, could no longer hold it in. Looking at Chu Moqi's profile as he feigned composure, and recalling those awkward questions and that "apology," he let out a snort of laughter. Then he laughed louder and louder, almost doubling over.
"Hahaha... Young Master, the way you were just now... hahaha... 'I was talking nonsense'... oh, my stomach..."
Chu Moqi's ears were already burning from his earlier behavior. Now, mocked so mercilessly by Yan Huai, his feigned composure shattered instantly. Furious with embarrassment, he grabbed the paperweight beside him and made to throw it. "Yan Huai! Is your skin itching for a beating? Do you want another ten laps tomorrow morning?!"
Seeing this, Yan Huai immediately covered his mouth and forcibly swallowed his laughter, his face turning red from the effort. Waving his hands repeatedly, he promised indistinctly, "Mmph... no more laughing, no more laughing... this subordinate is mute! Yes, mute! A very, very quiet mute!" As he spoke, he greased his soles and swiftly slipped out of the study, leaving only a trail of muffled, suppressed laughter fading down the corridor.
Chu Moqi set down the paperweight and sat alone in the study, the heat in his face lingering for a long time.
There were simply certain tiny changes that even he himself had yet to fully notice.