Relatives

On the third day of the New Year, the festive atmosphere was still thick. In Orchid Courtyard, Chu Moqi and Cui Wan had just sat down to breakfast, the room warm and quiet.

Just then, Yan Huai burst in, his face showing a rare urgency and a measure of anger.

Without even raising his eyelids, Chu Moqi leisurely picked up some vegetables with his chopsticks. "What is it? Charging about so recklessly-where are your manners?"

Yan Huai caught his breath, too pressed to bother much with etiquette. "Young Master, trouble! Outside... that bunch of masters and madams from the collateral branches are here!"

Chu Moqi's chopsticks paused slightly before resuming as though nothing had happened. His tone remained level. "Have they gone to Plum Courtyard to see Sister-in-law?"

"No!" Yan Huai shook his head, lowering his voice with contempt. "They... came straight to our Orchid Courtyard!"

The old Marquis of Ningyang, Chu Moqi's grandfather, had not come from an illustrious background. He had earned his military merits blade by blade, spear by spear, surviving death by a hair's breadth to win the title and estate of the Marquis of Ningyang's Residence. As a result, there were quite a few distant relatives from collateral branches who had attached themselves to the family early on and received considerable help. Some money here, a position there-at its height, the Marquis of Ningyang's Residence had not quibbled over such things, regarding it simply as helping their clansmen along. But these people's appetites had grown ever larger, and what they sought had long since gone beyond that.

Since the Chu father and son had died in battle at South Mountain and Chu Moqi had been crippled, the residence had rapidly declined, its gates deserted. These so-called "relatives" had never set foot through its doors again. Not a single one had appeared or offered the slightest token at Chu Rong and Chu Molei's funerals, or at Chu Moqi and Cui Wan's wedding, which had been so simple it bordered on perfunctory.

Now, with the New Year festivities barely past, they had come to Orchid Courtyard in a crowd.

Their purpose went without saying.

Chu Moqi lowered his eyes to the faintly rippling congee in his bowl. An icy curve touched his lips, his voice flat. "Oh. Then tell them I cannot get out of bed and cannot receive visitors. Don't bother serving tea, either. If they wish to wait, let them. When they cannot bear staying any longer, they will leave."

It was a decidedly willful approach, even somewhat discourteous, but it was entirely in keeping with Chu Moqi's usual behavior-he could not be bothered with empty courtesies, much less offer a pleasant face to people who fawned on the powerful and kicked others when they were down. Out of sight, out of mind.

"Yes!" Yan Huai answered at once. He found it satisfying, too. That bunch deserved to have the door shut in their faces! He turned to relay the message.

"Wait!"

Cui Wan, who had been listening quietly, suddenly called Yan Huai back.

Chu Moqi raised his eyes to her.

Cui Wan set down her chopsticks, placed her hands on her knees, and sat a little straighter. Looking at Chu Moqi, she spoke softly but hesitantly. "A-Qi... since your uncles and aunts have come, wouldn't it be... rather improper for us to leave them waiting and refuse to see them?" Though she had not been married into the residence for long, she understood something of social obligations. Especially during the New Year, shutting the door on visiting relatives was, after all, a breach of etiquette that could give others grounds for gossip.

Chu Moqi frowned slightly, impatient. "Never mind them. Eat your breakfast." Merely thinking of their faces annoyed him, and he wanted Cui Wan to have even less to do with them.

But Cui Wan pressed her lips together and, after hesitating, gathered her courage. "A-Qi... Mother-in-law isn't here now, and Sister-in-law... is widowed. I... I am at least... one of the mistresses of this household." She lifted her eyes, her gaze clear and firm. "Could I... try receiving them? You needn't appear. I'll... I'll simply say you're unwell and entertain them briefly on your behalf. Would that be all right?"

Standing in the doorway, Yan Huai looked from Cui Wan to his young master, unsure what to do.

Chu Moqi looked steadily at Cui Wan. "Why?"

His gaze embarrassed her a little. She lowered her head, her fingers unconsciously twisting the corner of her clothes. Her voice grew softer, yet carried a stubborn resolve. "I... I don't want... to let them say things about you, A-Qi..."

She pressed her lips tightly together and said no more. But Chu Moqi understood. She did not want those snobbish relatives gossiping behind his back, calling him ill-mannered, arrogant, or... something even uglier. She wanted to stand in front of him and shield him, protecting even the smallest scrap of his dignity.

Some corner of Chu Moqi's heart tickled faintly, with an aching sourness. He was silent for a moment before finally relenting, his voice still without much warmth. "As you wish."

Cui Wan's eyes brightened, and she was about to rise.

But Chu Moqi added, in a tone that brooked no argument, "Take Changfeng with you."

"Huh?" Cui Wan froze, asking instinctively, "Why should Changfeng come? Won't Qiaoju do?"

She was only going to the front hall to meet some relatives and exchange a few words. What difference did it make who accompanied her? Besides, hadn't Chu Moqi refused to let Changfeng stay before?

Her question caught Chu Moqi short. A fleeting awkwardness crossed his face, and he nearly blurted out-because those people were no good, because he feared they would mistreat her or corner her with their words, and Changfeng could keep her safe.

But with the words on his tongue, he felt they were far too direct. He immediately stiffened his expression to cover it, his tone turning harsh. "Qiaoju is as timid as you are. What use would she be? Changfeng is steadier. Go on! Why so many questions?"

Cui Wan shrank her neck at his sudden scolding, but felt even more puzzled. Why was A-Qi... contradicting himself a little today? Was Changfeng really so steady?

But she dared not ask again, afraid he would change his mind and refuse to let her go, and hastily agreed.

Chu Moqi gave a hum and picked up his chopsticks again, but his eyes no longer rested on the congee and dishes. Instead, they followed her slender back until she disappeared through the doorway.

Accompanied by Changfeng, Cui Wan arrived at Orchid Courtyard's seldom-used main hall. Before entering, she heard a jumble of conversation from within, voices deliberately lowered yet unable to conceal their judgmental tone. Her heart rose into her throat, and her steps slowed.

Cui Wan drew a deep breath, clenched her cuffs, and stepped inside.

Six or seven people, men and women alike, sat or stood in the hall. Their clothes were splendid, yet they carried a mercenary air utterly out of place in the marquis's residence. As she entered, every gaze swung toward her, appraising, assessing, and even holding a trace of barely perceptible disdain.

Cui Wan tried to steady herself, walked to the seat of honor, and dipped in a slight curtsy to them all. Her voice was timid, but reasonably clear. "Cui Wan greets you, uncles and aunts."

Only after speaking did she sit down rather apprehensively in the seat of honor. Changfeng silently took her place behind her.

An aunt dressed as showily as a flowering branch, with shrewd, cutting eyes, immediately laughed in a shrill voice. "Oh, so this is Moqi's new wife? What a lovely creature indeed! Look how fresh and pretty she is-no less so than Xiang'er, the Tang Family's legitimate daughter!" It sounded like praise, but she was implicitly comparing Cui Wan to the highborn Tang Xiang, giving her words an indefinable edge.

Cui Wan pressed her lips together, unsure how to answer, and could only lower her head in embarrassment.

An uncle with a goatee and shifting eyes spoke next, his probing tone cloaked in feigned familiarity. "Well, where is our worthy nephew Moqi? It's the New Year, and his uncles have come to see him. Surely he ought to come out and meet us?"

Cui Wan hastily raised her head and replied with the explanation she had prepared. "My husband... is feeling somewhat unwell and is resting. He truly cannot receive visitors. Please forgive him, uncles and aunts."

"Unwell?" Another aunt, with high cheekbones and thin lips, immediately cut in, her bluntness bordering on rudeness. "Moqi... still cannot get up? Is he really paralyzed in bed, unable to move, as the rumors outside say?" As she spoke, she swept her eyes over Cui Wan, as if trying to detect some clue in her face.

Cui Wan's heart gave a jolt, and displeasure and hurt welled up inside her. Holding them back, she lowered her head, but her voice was somewhat firmer than before. "A-Qi... is very well. It is merely that the recent cold has caused his old injuries to flare up. Your visit happened to fall at an unfortunate time."

"My dear niece-in-law," another aunt took over. She appeared kindly, but calculation lurked in her eyes, and her tone became earnestly admonishing. "You may say that, but we elders are anxious. You've been married into the family nearly half a year, haven't you? Yet there's still... no sign from your belly? Ah, don't blame your aunt for speaking unpleasantly, but those rumors outside... we cannot help thinking about them. Look at Xiang'er, widowed and ill-fated, unable even to keep her child... Doesn't the continuation of this household's ancestral line depend on you and Moqi? If Moqi should also... ah, how would that do!" As she spoke, she took out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes, as though truly weighed down with worry.

Her words struck at a hidden anxiety and embarrassment Cui Wan had never thought through, nor dared to. Her face instantly flushed crimson, burning to the roots of her ears. She stammered, her voice almost inaudible. "My... my husband and I, it is only... only that our destined time has not yet come..."

"Destined time?" The goateed uncle waved a hand, wearing an expression that said she was young and knew nothing. "Niece-in-law, some things cannot simply wait upon destiny. Look, Moqi's health is what it is, and you are young, and likely... from a humble household, unfamiliar with managing farmland and shops. As for Xiang'er, she is a widow, after all. Her spirit has probably faded, and who can say whether she will remarry? Our residence may not be what it once was, but there are still quite a few shops and fields under its name. In your uncle's opinion, you should divide off some of them early and let us elders help manage them. It would spare you worry and put Moqi at ease. Doesn't that make sense?"

Hearing this touch upon the family property, Cui Wan grew even more flustered and hastily shook her head. "No... that won't do! These matters... A-Qi must be consulted. I cannot decide them..."

"Consult Moqi?" Another uncle, broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, snorted and said roughly, "How can a sick man manage anything? If you don't trust us old bones, fine! Don't you have plenty of cousins? They've all established households and careers, have children, and can uphold a family of their own! Surely you can rest entirely easy leaving things to them? This is for the residence's future, too!"

"Exactly," the sharp-tongued aunt chimed in, her voice growing shrill. "This won't do, that won't do-do you have any regard for us elders? So young, married in barely a few days, and you already truly think yourself mistress of the marquis's residence? You ought to weigh yourself before putting on such airs!"

The barrage of demands, accusations, and even personal attacks rained down on Cui Wan. Her head buzzed, and she grew panicked and confused. Her eyes instantly reddened, her lips trembling, yet she could not utter a single word in rebuttal. Helpless, she wanted only to cry.

Just then, Changfeng, who had remained as silent as part of the background, suddenly took a small step forward.

She neither drew her sword nor raised her voice, but with that one step, the pressure throughout the hall seemed to plunge. Her voice was quiet, yet carried a murderous chill that reached into the marrow:

"Watch your mouths!"

In an instant, all the clamor stopped short. The uncles and aunts who had been so overbearing just moments earlier paled, suddenly falling as silent as cicadas in the cold.

Even Cui Wan jumped. When had Changfeng... become so strange?

Into that eerie silence came the clear, steady rumble of wooden wheels rolling over the ground outside the hall.

Everyone turned toward the sound in bewildered uncertainty.

Yan Qin was pushing a wheelchair, with Chu Moqi seated upright upon it, slowly into the hall. He wore an ink-dark brocade robe for everyday wear, with a fox-fur cloak draped casually over it. His eyes were sharp as ice, without a trace of warmth as they swept over the people inside.

"Such reassuring arrangements, all to ease my burdens. How is it... that I knew nothing of them?"

His voice was quiet, even somewhat leisurely, yet so cold that everyone present involuntarily shivered.

"Moqi?" "Worthy nephew!"

Startled cries rose one after another. Those relatives who had been speaking so glibly now looked as though they had seen a ghost. They rose from their chairs, their faces filled with shock and disbelief-Chu Moqi had not only come out, but could appear before them so... clearheaded and coldly formidable?

At the sight of him, the hurt and fear Cui Wan had been desperately holding back burst their banks. Tears rolled down like pearls from a broken string. Forgetting everything else, she lifted her skirt and hurried to Chu Moqi's side, hiding behind his wheelchair. Her little hands clutched its backrest, as though it were her only support.

An aunt forced a smile, trying to ease the atmosphere. "Moqi... you, you can sit up? Is your health... any better?"

Chu Moqi did not spare her so much as a glance. His gaze rested on the aunt who had spoken most viciously, then slowly shifted to the uncle who had proposed dividing the property.

The goateed uncle felt his skin crawl beneath that gaze. Clinging to his status as an elder, he stiffened his face. "Moqi, what sort of attitude is this? We are your elders, after all. We came to see you during the New Year, worrying on your behalf, and you..."

"Elders?" Chu Moqi interrupted him. His lips curved without the slightest amusement, while his eyes remained bone-piercingly cold. "When my father and elder brother died in battle at South Mountain, their bones not yet cold, none of you elders came to offer condolences. When I was grievously wounded and crippled, confined to a sickbed, none of you elders sent so much as a word of concern. When my wife and I married, with the residence's gates deserted, there was not the slightest wedding gift from any of you elders. Now, seeing that our residence apparently still has a few meager fields and a handful of shops, you cannot wait to assume the standing of elders and come help ease my burdens and manage them?"

With every sentence, their faces grew a shade paler.

"I, Chu Moqi, may be crippled," his voice abruptly rose, carrying a long-suppressed savagery and an inviolable authority, "but at the very least, I can still take you to South Mountain to see where my father, my brother, and the Chu Family Army lie buried. We can see whether the feng shui is good, and whether there is room... to bury a few more noisy wastes of space!"

His gaze swept across every person like lightning. Finally, he delivered his dismissal, decisive as severed iron:

"Leave. I won't see you out!"

"And henceforth... there is no need to return."

The finality and disgust in his voice were an ultimatum. Everyone in the hall turned ashen. His merciless words left them speechless, their faces alternating between red and pale, shame and indignation almost unbearable. Yet cowed by his imposing presence and Changfeng's icy stare beside him, they could not produce a single proper retort.

At last, with a stifled snort from the goateed uncle, the group slunk out of the main hall in hurried steps. The little show of grandeur they had arrived with had utterly vanished.

Only when the last figure disappeared through the doorway did quiet return to the hall, broken solely by the occasional crackle of charcoal.

Cui Wan was still crouching behind Chu Moqi's wheelchair, covering her face and sobbing softly, her shoulders heaving.

Only then did Chu Moqi's taut body relax slightly. The savagery between his brows gradually gave way to a barely perceptible worry. He signaled for Yan Qin to withdraw, then turned his wheelchair and angled himself slightly to look at Cui Wan hiding behind him.

"What is it?" His voice was much lower, even carrying a nervousness he himself did not notice. "Did they... frighten you?" He paused, then added rather stiffly, "Or... did I frighten you just now?"

Cui Wan shook her head hard and lowered her hands, revealing a little face like pear blossoms drenched in rain, her eyes and nose red. She looked up at him, and fresh tears welled up. Her voice choked, filled with self-reproach and dejection. "A-Qi... am I terribly useless...? They said so many awful things, and I... I couldn't argue back even once... I..."

Watching her cry so bitterly, Chu Moqi felt something tug at his heart. He awkwardly fumbled a clean, plain handkerchief from his sleeve and offered it to her. When she kept crying without taking it, he hesitated, then reached out himself and, somewhat stiffly, gently wiped the tears from her face.

"No." His voice was low, carrying an awkward tenderness. "You already did very well."

He paused, his fingers lingering beside her damp cheek, and said softly, "It was my fault. I should never have let you face them alone."

Seeing that she still could not stop crying, he felt a little panicked. He wanted to comfort her but did not know what to say. After struggling for a long while, he finally squeezed out, "Don't cry anymore, all right?"

When she continued sniffling, he instinctively dabbed at the corner of her eye with the handkerchief. His voice softened further, almost coaxing, yet the words he spoke were the clumsiest possible:

"Look... how ugly you are... when you cry."

Cui Wan was immersed in a tangle of self-loathing and the comfort he offered. At those words, she froze, then reacted, hastily covering her face with her hands and protesting through her tears, "A-Qi, you mustn't look!"

As soon as she spoke, she realized that was wrong. She lowered her hands and stared at him with tearful eyes, correcting herself with a little indignation and hurt. "No... that's not right! A-Qi, you mustn't call me ugly!"

Watching her cry and protest, so vivid and lively, Chu Moqi suddenly felt most of the icy anger stirred by those filthy people and their affairs melt away. His lips curved almost imperceptibly before quickly flattening again, and he tucked the handkerchief into her hand.

"All right. You're not ugly." His voice was low, carrying an almost inaudible indulgence. "Wipe your face. Let's go back."

"Mm..."