On the eighteenth day of the third month, a general amnesty was proclaimed throughout the realm.
Day had barely broken when the Orchid Courtyard stirred.
Cui Wan rose bright and early, dug out the peach-blossom-pink patterned satin jacket and skirt stored at the bottom of her chest, and had Qiaoju arrange her hair in an exquisite bun. Then she chose the intricate green jade hairpin her sister-in-law had given her and slipped it into place.
She looked at herself again and again in the bronze mirror, her cheeks flushed, her eyes brimming with irrepressible delight.
When breakfast was served, she practically skipped into the dining room.
"A-Qi!" The moment she sat down, she could not help speaking, her voice even brighter than usual. "Daddy can leave prison today! Do you think he'll go home to see Mother first, or come see me? Mother isn't well, so he'll certainly go home to see her first... but I miss Daddy so much too..."
She chattered like a merry little sparrow, picking up the side dishes on her plate and putting them down, then picking them up again, with no mind to eat.
"Mm."
Chu Moqi lowered his eyes and brought a spoonful of congee to his mouth.
He could not swallow it.
The congee was warm, yet passing down his throat felt like swallowing gravel raw, scraping all the way down and settling heavily in his stomach.
He merely sat there, listening to Cui Wan chatter about Daddy, Mother, going home...
"A-Qi?"
Cui Wan's voice suddenly stopped.
She tilted her head at him, the delight in her eyes slowly tinged with worry. "You look so pale... are you feeling unwell?"
Chu Moqi did not look up.
"Eat."
Cui Wan shrank back a little, murmured an "Oh," and obediently lowered her head to eat her congee.
But her eyes still strayed toward his face. Once, twice, while she thought she had hidden it well.
Chu Moqi knew she was looking, but said nothing.
Qiaoju practically ran inside.
"Madam! Madam! Someone's here! He says he's Secretary Cui, here to see you!"
With a soft clink, Cui Wan's spoon fell into her bowl.
She froze for a moment, then lifted her skirts and ran outside, the intricate green jade hairpin in her bun trailing tiny glimmers of light. "Daddy's here!"
Chu Moqi watched that peach-pink figure disappear beyond the doorway, lowered his eyes, and slowly set down his spoon.
He turned his wheelchair and followed her out.
Bright spring sunshine spilled beneath the covered walkway.
Cui Minghai stood at the residence's entrance in a somewhat worn blue-green robe, his hands behind his back, his expression calm.
"Daddy-"
Cui Wan practically threw herself toward him, only just stopping when she reached him to give a proper curtsy, though she could not keep her voice from trembling, three parts aggrieved and seven parts wheedling:
"Daddy, what took you so long..."
Cui Minghai looked down at her and smiled.
"Wanwan has grown taller," he said gently. "And prettier too."
Cui Wan's nose stung, and tears nearly fell, but she forced them back, raised her face, and smiled sweetly.
"Of course!" She sniffled. "I've already come of age!"
Cui Wan turned her head out of habit and soon spotted that familiar figure.
Chu Moqi's wheelchair stood in the shadows beneath the covered walkway.
"Father, this is my husband!"
Cui Wan ran over and pushed his wheelchair forward herself, looking at Cui Minghai as though presenting a treasure.
The pride, joy, and cautious anticipation in her eyes shone straight onto Chu Moqi like the warmest ray of spring sunlight.
He heard a thin crack open in his heart at that moment, but merely said evenly:
"Greetings, Father-in-law."
Cui Wan feared Cui Minghai would dislike A-Qi, and feared A-Qi's cold manner would make her father misunderstand. She looked from Cui Minghai to Chu Moqi, a little uneasy.
She knew her father had once been a very kindly man, but three years in prison would change anyone. She feared he would dislike A-Qi because of his impaired legs, that he would think the Chu family had taken advantage of their plight with this marriage, that he would harbor resentment.
She wanted Cui Minghai to know that A-Qi was a very good man, and that she was very happy here.
Cui Wan pressed her lips together, then suddenly spoke:
"Daddy, you used to say that about me! That someone like me, 'low down on the trunk,' could never reach a gentleman up among the branches." Cui Wan tilted her head, her tone playful, her eyes sparkling. "But now A-Qi is my husband! See? Anything is possible!"
As she spoke, she unconsciously moved closer to Chu Moqi, as though backing him up.
"A-Qi is very good to me," Cui Wan said more softly, but more earnestly. "Daddy, I haven't suffered the slightest grievance here."
This fool. Since when had he, Chu Moqi, needed her to put in a good word for him and protect him?
Chu Moqi turned his head away.
He dared not look at her.
He feared that one more glance would make him lose his composure before her father.
"Oh?" Cui Minghai's voice held a smile. "A gentleman among the branches? What does that mean?"
Cui Wan tilted her head, her brows slightly drawn in reproach. "Father! You've forgotten! You used to say that people like us, low down on the trunk, couldn't reach a branch like A-Qi. But I told you-anything is possible!"
She spoke so lightly, so matter-of-factly.
She did not know that with every word she uttered, the crack in Chu Moqi's heart deepened another inch.
He had called her childish.
He had called her naive.
All along, she had thought of him as the most precious branch she had managed to reach.
Yet he was only a withered branch... unable to bear all her affection.
"Yes, yes." Cui Minghai shook his head with a smile. "Daddy's memory is poor. I forgot."
He paused, as though suddenly remembering something, and looked down at Cui Wan, his tone gentle and natural:
"Daddy hasn't seen you in so long, and your mother must have been talking about you every day too... now that Daddy's back, why don't you come home for a few days and keep Daddy and Mother company?"
Cui Wan paused.
She did not answer immediately, but instinctively turned her head.
"A-Qi," Cui Wan crouched down to meet Chu Moqi's eyes in his wheelchair, a little anticipation in her expression. "I miss Daddy and Mother. I'd like to go back for a few days and keep them company... I'll be back very soon. Is that all right?"
Chu Moqi did not look at her.
He wanted to say no.
He did not want her to leave.
He could not bear to let her go.
He feared that once she left, she would never return.
But what Chu Moqi finally said was:
"As you wish..."
His voice was utterly flat.
Cui Wan blinked.
She suddenly felt that A-Qi seemed unhappy. Not the coldness of anger, but something else she could not describe, something that made her heart tighten.
She moved a little closer, tilted her face up, and asked quietly:
"A-Qi, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"
"Nothing."
"Did you sleep badly last night? Did you have nightmares?" Cui Wan tilted her head, her voice soft and patient. "Has the sachet I gave you stopped working? Should I put some more calming herbs inside..."
"When I say nothing's wrong, nothing's wrong! Why all this nonsense!"
Chu Moqi cut her off, his voice turning abruptly cold.
Cui Wan shrank back a little, her cautious concern dimming for a moment. She lowered her head, twisting the hem of her clothes between her fingers, her voice muffled:
"Oh... then make sure you eat properly these next few days, A-Qi. Say something if you feel unwell. Don't endure it if your legs hurt, and don't be scared if you have nightmares... I'll be back very soon!"
Chu Moqi did not answer.
His throat felt stuffed with a great wad of cotton, blocking every word.
He could only turn his face aside so she would not see the moisture in his eyes.
"I know..."
Reassured, Cui Wan smiled at him and was about to rise-
"Wait!"
Chu Moqi suddenly caught Cui Wan's wrist.
His grip was not strong, yet it seemed to have taken every ounce of his strength.
Cui Wan froze. Before she could react, Chu Moqi had already cupped her face.
His fingers were slightly cool, his fingertips lightly callused as they rested gently against her cheeks. He looked at her, his gaze tracing her brows and eyes to the tip of her nose, then down to her lips, before returning to those clear eyes filled with bewilderment.
So intently, so greedily.
As though he meant to carve her likeness into his very bones and blood, stroke by stroke.
He wanted to say he could not bear to part with her.
He wanted to say he did not want her to leave.
He wanted to say, Wanwan, I like you. Ever since you threw yourself into my arms beneath the osmanthus tree, I've liked you-so much that I don't know what to do with myself.
But he could not say anything.
Chu Moqi merely looked at her until his eyes reddened and his throat tightened.
"Wanwan... you look... very pretty today."
"You think so too, A-Qi?" Cui Wan smiled, her eyes curving. "Ah-"
Before Cui Wan could finish, Chu Moqi suddenly gathered her into his arms.
It was not like before, when Cui Wan would throw herself at him. He had taken the initiative. Chu Moqi gently pressed her head into the hollow of his shoulder, his arms circling her slender back, holding her tightly, yet still with great care.
It had always been Wanwan hugging him.
He regretted it so much. He should have hugged her more.
Cui Wan did not move. She nestled obediently against Chu Moqi's chest, listening to his heartbeat, beat after beat, fast and heavy, and nuzzled her face further in.
"Don't miss me too much, A-Qi." Her voice was muffled and smiling.
Chu Moqi said nothing.
He only held her a little tighter.
He was afraid... if he did not cherish this moment, he might never have another chance...
Cui Minghai stood a short distance away, watching with his hands behind his back.
He wore a faint smile, his gaze gentle.
Yet something flashed through the depths of his eyes.
Qiaoju soon finished packing their belongings into a small bundle.
Holding Cui Minghai's arm, Cui Wan walked lightly toward the residence's entrance. When she reached the carriage, she turned back out of habit:
"A-Qi!"
She waved at him, her little hand swaying in the wind.
Chu Moqi did not answer.
He merely sat motionless, looking in her direction.
Cui Wan was not annoyed. She smiled at him as always, her eyes curving into two crescents. Then she bent and climbed into the carriage, and the curtain dropped, hiding her radiant face.
The driver raised his whip.
The hoofbeats gradually faded.
At some point, Changfeng appeared behind Chu Moqi. "Young master, should Qiaoju and I... follow them to the Cui residence?"
Chu Moqi's gaze remained on the carriage, and he did not turn around. "No need. Wanwan should be free. She shouldn't have my people following her. As for the rest... I hope I'm merely overthinking."
Changfeng fell silent for a moment, then bowed and withdrew.
Chu Moqi lowered his eyes and looked at his empty palms.
A moment ago, they had been cradling her face, warm and soft, bearing that uniquely vivid breath of life that belonged to her.
Now there was nothing.
Only the slightly chilly wind of the third month passed between his fingers.
Chu Moqi suddenly felt a deep pain in his chest.
It was not a sharp, violent pain. It was dull and heavy, as though something were being gouged from his chest bit by bit, leaving an empty hollow behind.
He had simply let her go.
He had not even said, "Come back soon."
He had not even said, "I'll wait for you."
He had not even managed to say, "I like you."
He had wanted so badly to say it.
Wanwan...
I'm a bad person.
I haven't treated you well. I made you marry a cripple like me, made you worry over me, made you live in fear for me, made you stay trapped with me in this cold, lonely courtyard at the age when you should have been most carefree.
And now I've pushed you away with my own hands.
You're so wonderful. You should see a wider world, meet better people, and taste every sweet thing this world has to offer.
You shouldn't be trapped by me.
But Wanwan-
I'll miss you too.
I'll miss you so, so much.
Perhaps you'll never come back.
Perhaps somewhere else you'll meet someone truly worthy of you. He'll go with you to see the lanterns, set off fireworks with you, and run wild with you in the snow all afternoon. You won't have to struggle to push his wheelchair, or tread so carefully for fear of hurting his pride.
He will give you so many, many things I cannot.
When that time comes, will you still remember that useless man sitting in a wheelchair, unable even to say, "Don't go"?
Perhaps you won't.
You should forget me.
But-
But Wanwan, I will remember you.
I will remember your crescent brows and smiling eyes as you threw snowballs at me in the snow, the sparkling anticipation as you held candied hawthorn to my lips, the aggrieved way you hunched your shoulders and said "Oh" after I snapped at you, and the soft, sweet warmth of you as you burrowed into my arms and nuzzled against me.
I will remember the peach-blossom-pink jacket and skirt you wore today, with that exquisite jade hairpin in your hair, as lovely as peach blossoms in March.
I will always remember.
Chu Moqi slowly lowered his head and buried his face in his palms.
He suddenly thought back to three years ago, when his father and elder brother had died in battle. Had he cried...?
The doctor had said he would never stand again for the rest of his life. He had lain in bed, staring at the ceiling beams. Had he cried...?
When his mother moved to the Eternal Compassion Nunnery, had he cried...?
He could no longer remember...
But now, sitting alone at the entrance to the deserted residence, looking down the road she had taken when she left, his eyes slowly reddened.
The carriage rumbled along, gradually disappearing at the far end of the long street.
Cui Minghai lowered the carriage curtain and drew his gaze back from the window.
He turned to look at his daughter beside him and smiled faintly.
"Wanwan," Cui Minghai's voice was as gentle as ever, "has he treated you well these past six months?"
Cui Wan nodded. "A-Qi's been so good to me!"
She began chattering away, saying that although A-Qi spoke little, he would give her anything she wanted. A-Qi played in the snow with her, set off fireworks with her, and even gave her a birthday present...
Cui Wan spoke with such joy, so utterly unguarded.
Cui Minghai listened and smiled, occasionally murmuring a response.
No one noticed that the hand resting on his knee was gently tapping out a rhythm.
Neither hurried nor slow.
As though he were waiting for something.