Days slipped by, and the winter chill outside the window deepened.
Cui Wan counted on her fingers again and again. It had been seven whole days since she had last seen Chu Moqi.
He had kept himself shut in the side room, refusing to let her enter. Every time she lingered outside and timidly asked, "How is A-Qi?" the reply was always Yan Qin's or Yan Huai's polite but distant answer: "The young master is fine. Please go back, madam."
Fine? How could he be fine? When he left that day, his face had looked so awful, every movement so difficult...
Cui Wan wanted to know what exactly was wrong with him. Had her drunken pestering that night made his... physical discomfort worse?
But she could not even see him, let alone ask.
Until that afternoon, when the winter sunshine held a rare trace of warmth. Cui Wan was peering toward his door out of habit again when she unexpectedly noticed that, although the side room's door was tightly shut, the study door... stood slightly ajar.
Her heart gave a sudden leap. Almost without thinking, she turned and ran toward the kitchen.
Half an hour later, Cui Wan arrived outside the study, carefully carrying a bowl of steaming bird's nest soup. She took a deep breath, steadied her breathing, which had quickened from running and nerves, then raised her hand and knocked very, very softly.
"A-Qi?" she called tentatively, her soft voice carrying an almost imperceptible tremor and anticipation.
The study fell silent for a moment.
Just as Cui Wan thought she would receive another icy "Get out," as she had the previous few times, Chu Moqi's unreadable voice came from inside:
"Come in."
She could go in! He was letting her in!
Cui Wan's eyes instantly lit up. The gloom weighing on her heart for seven days seemed abruptly scattered by those simple words. An immense, indescribable joy surged through her, making the corners of her mouth rise uncontrollably. She hurriedly nudged the door open with her shoulder and walked inside with light steps, carrying the tray.
Chu Moqi sat behind the desk, a book in his hand, his gaze resting on its pages as though he was deeply absorbed. Still, he glanced up when Cui Wan entered.
He saw the undisguised happiness almost spilling from her face, her sparkling eyes and faintly flushed cheeks. Something seemed to bump gently against a corner of his heart, leaving him a little uncomfortable and a little... tangled in something he could not put into words.
These past few days, every day had felt like a year.
With Yan Qin and Yan Huai's meticulous care and medication, the skin around his waist and buttocks, which had been compressed until it was red, swollen, and nearly broken, had finally begun to lose its swelling and redness without developing into actual bedsores.
But what he had truly found unbearable was being forced to remain on his stomach or side throughout those days, unable to wear diapers. Every time he relieved himself, Yan Qin and Yan Huai had to clean him immediately, wash him, and replace the cloth beneath him... It was humiliation and torment that ground his dignity to dust and left him without a shred of privacy.
He had been like an infant utterly incapable of caring for himself, left to be handled as others pleased.
Fortunately... she knew none of this. In her eyes, he was probably just in a bad mood, throwing a tantrum.
Just as well.
Cui Wan noticed none of the turmoil churning inside Chu Moqi. Delighted, she carried the warm bowl of bird's nest soup over and set it gently on his desk. Then, rather than leaving immediately, she crouched beside his wheelchair and tilted her little face up, gazing at him with dewy eyes.
"A-Qi..." Her voice was soft and laden with guilt. "I'm sorry... I made you feel unwell... I'll... never drink again. Really..."
Looking at her pitiful expression, Chu Moqi found the irritation stirred by memories of his recent humiliation inexplicably easing a little. His face remained expressionless, however. He merely shifted his gaze indifferently to the soup before him and said coldly:
"It had nothing to do with you."
He was the useless one, unable to endure even one night sitting in his wheelchair. Who else could he blame?
Seeing that he remained distant, Cui Wan felt even worse. Her little head drooped, her long lashes lowering to cast small shadows beneath her eyes. She looked aggrieved and dejected.
Catching her expression from the corner of his eye, Chu Moqi's heart softened for no apparent reason. He said nothing more, merely reached out and pulled the bowl closer, picked up the spoon, stirred it casually, then brought a spoonful to his lips and tasted it.
It was soothing and delicately sweet, with a fine texture.
At the sight, Cui Wan's dimmed eyes instantly brightened again! She pressed her lips together, trying not to smile too obviously, but the curve of her eyes still betrayed her feelings.
"A-Qi... does it taste good?" she asked quietly, with a little anticipation.
Chu Moqi took another mouthful before giving a soft "Mm" and his verdict: "Passable."
Passable!
Cui Wan's eyes shone even brighter. She was beginning to understand the way Chu Moqi spoke.
When he said "Suit yourself," it usually meant he agreed. When he said "Average" or "Not bad," he actually meant something was quite good. And "Passable" meant it was very good!
He wasn't angry!
He liked the bird's nest soup she had made!
That realization delighted Cui Wan, and her small measure of hurt and disappointment immediately vanished like smoke. She rose from her crouch, a sweet, heartfelt smile spreading across her face, her eyes curving into crescents.
Her improved spirits gave her a little more courage, and she was no longer as restrained as when she had entered. She looked around Chu Moqi's study. She had been inside several times, but each time she had either been frightened out of her wits or too nervous to raise her head. She had never properly looked at it.
The study was very simply furnished. Aside from shelves full of books, there was the desk, and... a rack in the corner?
A spear lay alone across the rack.
That spear...
Cui Wan's gaze abruptly stopped.
In the sunlight streaming through the window, the silver shaft reflected a subdued, familiar luster. Though the spearhead was wrapped, its biting presence seemed to linger. The shaft seemed to retain faint, indelible marks accumulated over the years.
It was... the silver spear that, five years ago amid the bustling crowds on Vermilion Bird Street, had stretched across her path when she was most frightened and helpless, holding every danger away, then been offered to her so she could pull herself to her feet!
It was A-Qi's spear!
Cui Wan stared blankly at it. Something seemed to clench hard around her heart, and an intense ache and longing rushed to her nose. A mist quickly veiled her eyes.
A-Qi... had saved her with this spear.
When... would A-Qi be able to wield it again? When would he be able to sit astride a horse as he once had, spirited and radiant enough that people hardly dared look straight at him?
Unable to help herself, she stepped forward and reached out, her fingertips lightly touching the cold, smooth shaft. It felt just as it had in her memories. Her fingers unconsciously slid toward the spot she had gripped tightly back then to pull herself upright.
As though she wanted to feel that distant support again, the support that had once given her an infinite sense of safety.
But... why was this spear... so heavy?
She had merely touched it lightly, intending to shift it a little for a closer look, but she had completely underestimated its weight! This was nothing like the light weapon of her memories, which could be handed over so casually for her to lean on. It was a genuine spear made for charging through battle!
Her touch upset the balance of the spear lying securely across its rack!
"Ah!" Cui Wan cried softly, instinctively reaching with both hands to steady it.
But how could her frail arms withstand that sudden weight? As though possessed of its own will, the silver spear plunged downward with irresistible force and slipped off the rack!
Clang-!!!
An immensely heavy, heart-jolting crash suddenly exploded through the silent study!
The silver spear struck the hard floor tiles heavily. Its shaft collided with the floor with a dull, grating sound, making even the ground seem to tremble. Though its point was wrapped, its sheer weight still shook the entire room.
Cui Wan was scared witless. She stood frozen, her face turning deathly white in an instant, forgetting even to breathe.
It was over... over, over...
That was A-Qi's spear! The weapon he had once treasured, the weapon that had accompanied him through life and death!
And she had... dropped it on the floor! With such an enormous crash!
Chu Moqi would be angry! Very, very angry! He would scold her to death!
Cui Wan went cold all over, even her fingertips trembling. She did not dare turn to see Chu Moqi's expression. Overwhelming fear and remorse instantly engulfed her.
The sudden crash startled Chu Moqi so badly that he nearly dropped his spoon. He looked up with a frown and immediately saw the silver spear on the floor in the corner and Cui Wan standing stiffly beside it, her little face white, too frightened to move.
His expression instantly darkened. A nearly imperceptible flicker of pained regret crossed his eyes before turning into his usual cold severity. He turned his wheelchair and rolled toward her.
Cui Wan had already been frightened out of her wits by the disaster she had caused. Seeing Chu Moqi wheel himself over, his icy gaze settling on her, sent chills through her. Immense fear seized her. Tears instantly welled up and pattered down as she began apologizing incoherently:
"A-Qi... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I only... only wanted to look... I... I really didn't..." Crying, she instinctively shrank back, as though afraid he might strike her the next moment.
Was he angry?
Of course Chu Moqi was angry. This spear had accompanied him for years, bearing witness to his youthful spirit and his battles. More importantly, it was one of the few things he still possessed that could prove he had once been "whole."
But seeing Cui Wan crying so hard she could barely breathe, her little face white, tears and mucus smeared over it, terrified and remorseful, somehow doused most of his anger like a basin of cold water. Instead, he felt rather unsettled.
He pressed his lips together and wheeled closer. His gaze swept over Cui Wan first, and he asked, a nearly imperceptible tension in his voice, "Did it hurt you?"
Cui Wan lifted her tear-blurred face and stared blankly at him.
"Your feet! Your hands!" Chu Moqi raised his voice impatiently, his brows drawing tighter. "Did it hit you?!"
Only then did Cui Wan understand. She hurriedly looked down at her hands and feet, moved them, then shook her head dazedly.
Once he confirmed she was unhurt, the last trace of unease in Chu Moqi's heart disappeared. Then the anger he had been suppressing finally found a more suitable outlet.
"Did I tell you to touch it?!" His face stern, his voice was harsh and thoroughly intimidating. "This is a weapon! Not your toy! Blades and spears have no eyes-have you grown tired of living?!"
Cui Wan shook all over at his shout, her tears flowing even harder as she sobbed out her apology. "I'm sorry... I know I was wrong... I really know I was wrong... I'll never dare do it again..."
Chu Moqi glared at her, but seeing how pitifully she cried, he ultimately said nothing more. He lowered his gaze to the spear on the floor. After a brief silence, he maneuvered his wheelchair closer.
Bracing one hand firmly on the wheelchair's armrest, he leaned forward slightly and reached for the heavy shaft with his other hand. The movement was difficult for him, requiring his waist to exert itself to keep him steady and considerable strength from his arm.
His fingertips touched the cold, hard shaft. He gripped it tightly and tried to lift it. But its weight far exceeded his current arm strength. His arm muscles bulged, veins faintly rising at his temple, yet the spear merely shifted slightly across the floor.
Chu Moqi stopped. He held that strenuous position for several breaths before the corner of his mouth tugged upward almost imperceptibly, revealing a faint, bitter smile steeped in self-mockery.
He could no longer even lift his own spear.
That realization brought him greater shame and pain than Cui Wan dropping it had.
Still crying beside him, Cui Wan felt her heart clench painfully at the sight of his struggle. She instinctively wanted to help, but she had barely taken half a step before his harsh reprimand and the coldness now emanating from him froze her in place. Her feet remained nailed to the spot, and she dared not move, able only to watch, aching and helpless.
Chu Moqi drew a deep breath and abandoned the idea of lifting it one-handed. He adjusted his position, gripped the middle of the shaft with both hands, and used every ounce of strength he possessed to laboriously drag it up from the floor, inch by inch. Then, extremely slowly, he placed it back on the wooden rack.
Once he had finished, he leaned back in his wheelchair, breathing slightly hard, fine beads of sweat already covering his forehead.
Forget it... He looked at the spear back in its place, then glanced at Cui Wan, still silently shedding tears, thoroughly frightened.
The spear was fine, and so was she... that was enough.
But he could not simply let this go.
His face hardened again, and he fixed Cui Wan with a sharp gaze, his voice still fierce and admonishing. "In future, have some sense of what you should and shouldn't touch. A single dagger frightened you that badly before, and now you're playing with a spear? You have no sense of consequence!"
Cui Wan could not lift her head under his reprimand. She could only nod repeatedly and answer softly, "Yes... I understand..."
Seeing that her attitude toward admitting fault was passable-and mainly that... she was crying too miserably-Chu Moqi's anger eased a little more. He was about to send her out so he could have some quiet when she spoke again, trembling, her voice still hoarse and nasal from crying:
"I'm sorry... A-Qi... it was only because... because..." Gathering her courage, she raised her wet eyes and looked at him timidly. "A-Qi, do... do you remember saving a little girl with your spear... on Vermilion Bird Avenue, five years ago?"
Five years ago? Vermilion Bird Avenue?
Those two phrases abruptly pulled Chu Moqi's thoughts back into the distant past.
His father and brothers had still been alive then, and they had just returned victorious from battle. Cheering crowds had packed both sides of the street. Amid that surging sea of people, he had indeed glimpsed a little girl who had fallen to the ground, her face streaked with tears. He had merely used his spear to part the crowd in passing, allowing her to stand.
Such a distant, insignificant incident... He had not even seen the girl's face clearly at the time. He only remembered her face covered in tears and dust, looking foolish.
Could... that little girl... have been Cui Wan?
Chu Moqi's heart jolted, as though something had suddenly fallen into place.
So... he had met her long, long ago...
She really had... stayed the same from childhood onward. Foolish, annoying, and... always crying.
Seeing him silent and apparently deep in thought, Cui Wan assumed he remembered. She said very softly, "That little gi-"
"I don't remember." Chu Moqi abruptly interrupted her, his voice cold and devoid of discernible emotion. "What about it?"
The anticipation instantly froze on Cui Wan's face, and the light faded from her eyes. She stared at him blankly and murmured, "You... don't remember...?"
"I've saved countless people on the march." Chu Moqi looked away from her disappointed face, his tone as flat as though discussing something unrelated to himself. "I've saved plenty of little girls. How could I remember every one?" He paused, then asked casually, as though only just realizing something, "Why? Do you know her?"
"No... no..." Cui Wan lowered her head, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her clothes. Her voice grew even quieter, carrying disappointment she could not conceal. "So... A-Qi has saved lots of people... then it seems A-Qi really is... very kind..."
By the end, her voice had taken on a sob again, and tears began gathering in her eyes.
He did not even remember... To him, she had merely been one of countless strangers he had helped, utterly insignificant. But to her, it had been the only ray of light illuminating her for a long, long time.
Cui Wan's heart ached unbearably. She remembered those young women in the street, talking excitedly and following the procession, the admiring smiles on their faces so obvious...
Unable to stop herself, she raised her tearful eyes again and asked softly, with a trace of unwillingness and hurt, "Then... were there lots of women... who liked A-Qi before?"
Her question startled Chu Moqi, then irritated him a little. Almost without thinking, he replied, "Yes. What about it?" His tone carried the matter-of-fact implication of "What is there to ask?"
Cui Wan felt as though a needle had pierced her heart. She bit her lip, summoned her last shred of courage, and asked the question that filled her with unease yet which she could not help wanting answered:
"Then... among them... was there someone... A-Qi liked?" The moment the question left her mouth, even Cui Wan felt it was presumptuous and bold. But it was already out, and she could not take it back. She looked nervously at Chu Moqi.
Her increasingly outrageous string of questions irritated Chu Moqi. Looking at those tear-filled eyes that nevertheless stared stubbornly at him, he felt the anger he had just suppressed begin to rise again. His face cold, he answered almost deliberately:
"Yes."
Then, as though he had finally found an outlet, his tone abruptly sharpened, filled with warning and dismissal. "Cui Wan, don't you think you're taking a mile when given an inch? What? Seven or eight days have passed, and you still haven't sobered up? First you knocked down my spear, and before I've even held you accountable, you start spouting nonsense? Have I been... too good to you?"
He delivered those final words coldly and harshly, like spikes of ice crashing down.
Cui Wan trembled all over at his sudden, harsh reprimand, and her tears finally broke their banks. Remembering the unhesitating "Yes" he had just given her filled her heart with pain and bitterness.
She could not stay another moment. Her lips crumpled, large tears rolling down, and she could not utter even a complete sentence. She could only cover her mouth, turn, and stumble out. Her stifled sobs faded intermittently beyond the door.
Silence returned to the study.
Chu Moqi sat alone in his wheelchair, looking at the empty doorway. Cui Wan's broken, deeply aggrieved sobs as she fled still seemed to echo in his ears.
The coldness and severity on his face swiftly receded like a tide, leaving only profound exhaustion and... bewilderment.
He slowly turned back, his gaze settling on the spear restored to its place in the corner.
What difference... would remembering make?
What difference... would forgetting make?
Whether it was that little crybaby he had casually saved years ago, the women who had once shown him affection, or his own fleeting youth in splendid clothes and astride spirited horses...
Hadn't all of it now come down to this... broken body, barely able to lift its own weapon?
He tugged at the corner of his mouth in a bitter, self-mocking smile.
Chu Moqi, oh, Chu Moqi, what... were you still hoping for?
His gaze returned to his legs, to the thick blanket covering them, his eyes hollow and numb.
"After all... aren't I just... a cripple now?"