After Cui Wan left, the spring rain never stopped.
It pattered on, lingering and unbroken. From morning until night, drops fell from the eaves, each beat drumming mold into every corner.
It was the fourteenth day since Wanwan had left. Half a month...
Chu Moqi did not get up.
He had been lying like this for almost half a month.
The breakfast Yan Huai brought in every day sat on the table until it went completely cold, then was carried out untouched. He took a couple of bites at lunch and barely moved his chopsticks at dinner, growing visibly thinner.
Yan Qin lifted a corner of the quilt to massage his legs. The moment his hand reached underneath, Chu Moqi struggled violently, twisting his upper body and making his legs spasm faintly.
"Don't touch me!"
Yan Qin's hand hung in midair. After a long, stiff pause, he silently withdrew it.
It was not that his legs did not hurt.
For as many days as the spring rain had fallen, his legs had ached. It was not a sharp pain that made him cry out, but something deeper, heavier, a sore swelling that seeped out between his bones, as though someone were scraping his marrow with a blunt knife, stroke after stroke.
But he did not want treatment.
He did not want medicine, did not want massages, did not want anyone touching this utterly rotten shell of his.
He had even begun squeezing the last pitiful scraps of function from his body, almost abusing himself.
If he could avoid being changed, he did.
If he could avoid getting up, he did.
He knew Yan Qin and Yan Huai secretly cleaned him while he slept. He knew he was dry beneath him the next morning. But when he woke, his face darkened, and he said nothing, then wore himself down and endured it with even greater intensity.
He wanted to rot. He might as well rot away like this. After all... Wanwan would never come back.
Yan Qin and Yan Huai had begged the physician to come.
The old physician was well known in the capital and had examined Chu Moqi's legs four years earlier. This time, he entered, lifted the quilt, and saw those two legs, wasted beyond recognition. Then he examined the rashes and pressure sores along his waist and tailbone, caused by prolonged lying in dampness, and his brow creased deeply.
"Young master," the old physician said gravely, lowering the quilt, "if you abuse your body like this, even Hua Tuo reborn could do nothing for you."
Chu Moqi lay on his side on the couch, his back to him, and did not answer.
The old physician sighed and turned to Yan Qin and Yan Huai. He lowered his voice, but his words still drifted clearly into Chu Moqi's ears:
"Spring is damp. Lying still for long periods is the worst thing one can do. The young master's... intimate garments must be changed and washed frequently, especially. Otherwise, if they stay covered too long..."
He considered for a moment and chose a more delicate expression:
"Sores can easily develop..."
Sores?
Those words stabbed into Chu Moqi's heart.
He spoke suddenly, his voice icy. "Show him out."
Yan Qin froze. "Young master..."
"I said, show him out!" Chu Moqi released his grip, and his body immediately fell flat on his back. Slowly propping himself up with his hands, he turned his head. There was not a trace of warmth in his eyes, only a deathly stillness filled with provoked savagery. "From now on, if anyone invites another physician, throw them out, every last one. I'm a useless cripple anyway. What do I need a physician for? A waste of money."
The old physician left, shaking his head.
Yan Qin and Yan Huai stood beside the couch, exchanging looks, neither daring to speak.
Yan Huai held it in for a long time, until he could not bear it anymore.
"Young master..." His voice was timid, his anxiety impossible to suppress. "If you keep this up, you'll end up like last time again... lying on your stomach with your bottom bare..."
Chu Moqi's gaze swept toward him, cold as a poison-tempered blade.
Yan Huai immediately shut his mouth, wishing he could bite off his own tongue.
But he was frantic.
What was wrong with the young master? He wouldn't let anyone massage his legs, turn him over, or change and wash him. He just stubbornly endured it, wearing himself away. Bedsores had already developed. Yan Qin had secretly applied medicine while he was sound asleep, but when he woke and discovered it, he smashed the entire bottle on the floor.
Why was he being so stubborn with himself?
He had sent Madam away with his own hands.
Since he could bear to send her away, why torment himself like this?
When the door opened, Chu Moqi was lying on his side on the couch, his loose black hair scattered across his face. He heard the sound but did not turn around.
"Get out!"
"It's me!"
Chu Moqi's back stiffened for a moment. He braced himself up and abruptly raised his eyes.
His gaze was sharp, guarded, with a trace of discomposure he had not managed to hide. Almost instinctively, he pulled the quilt over and wrapped his lower body tightly.
"Sister-in-law..." Chu Moqi's voice was terribly hoarse. "Why are you here?"
Tang Xiang did not answer.
She simply stood beside the couch, looking down at him. After a long moment, she spoke:
"What? Wanwan went home, so you're abusing yourself like this?"
Chu Moqi turned his face away. "This has nothing to do with you, Sister-in-law..."
"Nothing to do with me?" Tang Xiang's voice suddenly chilled. "If the physician hadn't been visiting Orchid Courtyard so often these past few days, I wouldn't even have known-I thought you amounted to something, Chu Moqi. It turns out you're nothing but a coward who can only throw his weight around at home!"
Chu Moqi's lashes trembled, but he kept his eyes lowered and said nothing.
Watching him sit there like stagnant water, Tang Xiang drew a deep breath and suppressed the tangled emotions surging in her heart.
"A-Qi." Her voice softened, though it remained heavy. "Wanwan didn't simply go back to visit her family, did she?"
Chu Moqi did not answer.
"Since you insisted on sending her away yourself," Tang Xiang said, watching him, "why torture yourself into this state?"
Chu Moqi suddenly laughed, very softly. "Sister-in-law, I gave Wanwan up myself. I'm not worthy."
He was not worthy of keeping her. Not worthy of missing her. He was not even worthy of pain-pain was for those who had the right. What right did he have?
He had merely returned someone who had never belonged to him in the first place.
Tang Xiang watched him, watched that pale face beneath his disheveled hair, with its strange smile.
"Sister-in-law," Chu Moqi raised his head, his eyes holding no tears, only despair, "I can't be that selfish. I can't imprison her beside me just because I like her. She deserves a better life. What am I?"
Tang Xiang looked at him and remained silent for a long time.
"A-Qi." Her voice was very soft. "Why deceive yourself like this?"
Chu Moqi did not answer.
He merely lowered his eyes to his twisted lower body beneath the quilt.
How was he deceiving himself?
Every word he had said was true.
She deserved a better life.
She deserved someone who could admire lanterns with her, go on spring outings with her, and carry her steadily on his back when she grew tired.
He could not give her that.
He could not give her anything.
"It's been half a month..." Chu Moqi seemed to be persuading himself. "If Wanwan wanted to come back, she would have returned long ago. Perhaps... she doesn't really want to stay here with me either."
He remembered the day she left, holding Cui Minghai's arm and stepping onto the mounting stool, climbing into the carriage one step at a time. Her smile had been so happy, like a bird flying free of its cage.
"Their family is reunited now. At the Cui Family, no one will bully them anymore either. This is... quite good too."
Tang Xiang stood up.
She walked to the couch and looked down at Chu Moqi, who had trapped himself completely in self-loathing and inferiority. "Just because Wanwan hasn't returned now doesn't mean she won't return in the future. If she comes back one day, you mustn't drive her away again."
Chu Moqi did not answer.
Tang Xiang watched him for a long time.
At last, she sighed.
"No matter what," she said, "get yourself cleaned up first. If Wanwan comes back and sees you like this, what is she supposed to think?"
Without waiting for his answer, she turned and walked out.
The door closed softly, shutting out that thin sliver of daylight.
Water still dripped beneath the eaves, drop by drop, striking the stone paving and scattering tiny splashes.
Tang Xiang stood beneath the covered walkway, gazing at the gray-white sky, and did not move for a long time.
A-Lei...
You must be pacing in circles with worry up in heaven too.
That boy who once followed behind you, calling you "Brother" over and over, has now shut himself in the darkness and refuses to come out.
If you were still here, you would probably kick his door open, haul him out of bed, press him into his wheelchair, and push him outside into the rain. You would scold him with a stern face, tell him he was good for nothing, tell him he must be blind to reject such a wonderful girl as Wanwan.
Then, once his eyes reddened, you would secretly slip him a jug of fine wine you had hidden away for ages, pretending nothing was wrong as you said, "Drink. Don't let Father see."
A-Lei, tell me...
Can he still find his way out?
Cui Wan crouched in a corner of the woodshed, her knees drawn up, curling herself into a tiny ball.
The paper in her hands had been crumpled by her grip, and the ink had bled a little, but those words were still imprinted clearly in her eyes-
Divorce agreement
She had stared at it for an entire day.
How wonderful that first day home had been. Father had been released from prison, and Mother had been so happy that her illness was more than half cured. Her eldest uncle had held a feast in the main hall, and the family had sat together, talking and laughing. Her older cousins had all been there too. Mother had put food in her bowl, praising her for growing up and becoming prettier.
That night, lying in her old bedroom, she had thought how wonderful it was, how everything was getting better.
But A-Qi was not there.
She had thought then that she would stay only a few days and return very soon.
In the blink of an eye, almost half a month had passed.
It had rained constantly lately, pattering from morning until night. She lay in bed listening to it, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
Weather like this was the worst for A-Qi's legs.
When his legs hurt, he did not like to say so. He simply endured it, his brow furrowed and his face pale, still pretending nothing was wrong.
Now that she was away, he was surely forcing himself to endure it again.
And she had been gone so long. Would A-Qi miss her?
With his temperament, he certainly would not say it. But he would certainly be awkward, unhappy, and ignore people with a stern face.
She had to go back. If she stayed away any longer, A-Qi would be angry again.
That day, Cui Wan went to the main rooms to find Cui Minghai and said she wanted to return to the marquis's residence.
Cui Minghai was drinking tea. At her words, the cup in his hand paused. "What would you go back for?"
"To see A-Qi, of course," Cui Wan said matter-of-factly. "I've been staying here for almost half a month. If I don't go back soon, A-Qi will worry."
Cui Minghe set down his teacup and looked at her with a strange gaze Cui Wan could not understand.
"Wanwan," Cui Minghai frowned, his voice somewhat displeased, "do you want to go back to that place so badly?"
Cui Wan froze. "It's not 'that place.' It's the marquis's residence. It's my home with A-Qi."
Cui Minghai slammed down his teacup. "Cui Wan! Chu Moqi... is a cripple!"
"Father..." Cui Wan stared, her mouth opening. "How can you say that about A-Qi?"
"I'm doing this for your own good." Cui Minghai seemed very earnest. "You're still so young. For the next several decades, you'll have to spend your life with a paralytic. He needs someone to carry him out the door. People point and whisper wherever he goes. He can't even have a child..."
"A-Qi isn't a paralytic!" Cui Wan grew frantic. "His legs are just injured! He was wounded in battle. He's a hero!"
Cui Minghai looked at Cui Wan, something in his eyes she could not understand.
Afterward, Cui Wan said a great deal to Cui Minghai. She told him how wonderful A-Qi was, how A-Qi had never let her suffer any mistreatment, how she liked A-Qi, how she wanted to go back.
Cui Minghai's face grew darker and darker. Finally, he said something, not loudly, but it nailed Cui Wan to the spot:
"You can't go back!"
Cui Wan thought she had misheard. "What?"
"I said!" Cui Minghai looked at her, enunciating every word. "You can't go back!"
Then Cui Wan was locked in the woodshed.
On the first day, she cried, beat on the door, and called for her parents. No one answered.
On the second day, she stopped beating on it and only crouched in the corner, staring at the locked door.
On the third day, Father came and brought that divorce agreement.
Cui Wan recognized Chu Moqi's handwriting. When A-Qi practiced calligraphy or wrote annotations in books, his strokes were lean and strong, very, very much like those on the paper in her hands.
But...
Why would A-Qi want a divorce?
A-Qi was clearly... clearly so good.
He bought her candied hawthorn skewers. He let her push his wheelchair. When he scolded her, his gaze was fierce, but he never truly stayed angry for long. When she crouched beside his wheelchair and talked, he complained that she was annoying, but he had never driven her away.
On the day she left, A-Qi had even hugged her.
He never hugged anyone first. She was always the one who threw herself at him and hugged him, while he stayed stiff and motionless, the tips of his ears red.
That day, he had drawn her into his arms and held her so tightly she could hardly breathe.
He had said, "Wanwan looks very pretty today."
His eyes had been red when he said it.
How could an A-Qi like that want a divorce?
Could it be... that Father disliked A-Qi, so he forced A-Qi to write it?
But Father had never been like this before.
Father had once said she was not good enough for A-Qi. He had said the Chu Family's second young master was a gentleman perched on a lofty branch. How could someone like him possibly take a fancy to her?
She had refused to accept it then. Why was Father looking down on A-Qi now instead?
Just because A-Qi used a wheelchair?
But A-Qi had been wounded fighting a war. A-Qi had been on the battlefield and killed enemies. That made him a hero. Why should anyone look down on him just because he used a wheelchair?
Cui Wan lowered her head to look at the divorce agreement again.
The handwriting really was very similar.
Another voice in Cui Wan's head said, What if it isn't? What if Father... what if Father was deceived too?
No.
Father was still Father.
Father had doted on her most since she was little. He wouldn't hurt her.
But...
She wanted to get out. She wanted to ask A-Qi herself whether he had written this letter. She wanted to look into his eyes and see what he said. If A-Qi dared say yes, she would... she would cry for him to see, and keep crying until he changed his answer.
A-Qi was the most softhearted...
But she couldn't get out.
Cui Wan could only crouch here, in this damp, dark woodshed, clutching the divorce letter, unable to do anything.
Let me look at this divorce letter again... Cui Wan raised the sheet of paper toward the sliver of daylight coming through the woodshed window and examined it carefully.
Something suddenly occurred to her.
A-Qi had a little habit when he wrote. When he made a right-falling stroke, he would hook its end slightly upward, like a little tail. She had asked him why he wrote that way. He said Chu Molei wrote like that; he had learned it from his elder brother and couldn't break the habit.
She searched for the characters with right-falling strokes.
There were some characters on the page that Cui Wan didn't recognize... but...
"Zun," "Huan," "Huan."
Cui Wan examined them one by one. There were no little tails.
Every right-falling stroke ended properly and neatly.
Tears welled up in Cui Wan's eyes again.
A-Qi didn't write this.
This wasn't A-Qi's handwriting!!!
But why would Father lie to her? Why would he imitate A-Qi's handwriting to write this?
Cui Wan buried her face in her knees.
She missed A-Qi.
She missed the way he looked sitting in his wheelchair, the way he said "Childish" with a stern face, the way his ears reddened when she teased him while he still pretended not to care. She missed the way he wiped her tears, the way he held her, the way he cupped her face and said, "Wanwan looks lovely today."
Why wouldn't Father let her go back? Why was Father locking her up? Why would Father lie and say A-Qi wanted a divorce?
Cui Wan couldn't understand. Father seemed to have changed.
Father would never have done this before. Father had always doted on her most and could never bear to raise his voice at her. Father used to listen to reason; whatever happened, he would talk it through with her, not lock her up like this.
But Father now...
Cui Wan shuddered.
She remembered the way Father looked at her. Sometimes, she felt there was something strange about his gaze. It wasn't the doting, smiling gaze he used to have, but a kind of... a gaze she couldn't describe. As though he were looking at some... thing.
No, that wasn't right.
That was Father, her own father.
She couldn't think like that. She and Father hadn't seen each other in three years. Of course there would be changes.
But why would Father deceive her with a fake letter?
She didn't know.
She only knew that she couldn't see anyone now. She couldn't see Mother or Aunt Yue, couldn't see A-Qi, couldn't see Qiaoju or Changfeng, couldn't see anyone at all. She was locked alone in this damp, dark woodshed, with only this fake letter for company.
It seemed about to rain again.
Cui Wan carefully folded the divorce letter and tucked it inside her clothes, against her heart.
It was fake. She knew that.
But the handwriting looked too much like A-Qi's. So much so that she couldn't help looking at it over and over, as though that would let her see A-Qi...