After the Ordeal

When Cui Wan woke, the first thing she saw was her familiar bed curtains. She stared blankly at the canopy, her mind empty, unable to remember anything.

This morning seemed just like countless ordinary mornings. She had just woken up, and soon Qiaoju would bring in hot water and help her wash and dress. A-Qi was probably awake already. She had to hurry over and have breakfast with him, or he would eat alone in gloomy silence again.

But... but something was wrong.

Cui Wan blinked and tried to move. As her hand shifted, it brushed against something warm.

She turned her head.

Chu Moqi sat in his wheelchair, keeping vigil beside the bed, his face very pale. When he saw her wake, his misty gray eyes lit up at once.

Chu Moqi reached out and took Cui Wan's hand.

But the instant he touched her, he trembled slightly. Then, as though afraid of frightening her, he loosened his grip a little, holding her hand only lightly.

"How do you feel, Wanwan?" Chu Moqi's voice was so hoarse it was almost unrecognizable, yet so soft it seemed he feared startling something. "Does anything still feel wrong?"

Cui Wan looked at him, at his utterly exhausted face, at the cautious anxiety and aching tenderness in his eyes.

Yesterday's memories surged back like a tide.

The woodshed, Aunt Yue, the paper in the flatbread, East Street, that dilapidated house. Those terrifying people, those hands tearing at her clothes, those mouths gnawing at her face, and-

A-Qi.

A-Qi had come.

A-Qi had killed those people. A-Qi had wrapped her in his cloak. A-Qi had held her, saying over and over, "I'm here."

Cui Wan's tears spilled out all at once.

She abruptly sat up and threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and burying her face against his shoulder. She cried until her whole body shook, until she could barely catch her breath, until she could not get out a single word.

Chu Moqi stiffened for an instant. Then he raised a hand and rested it gently on her back, patting her again and again.

"It's all over." His voice was hoarse, but held a reassuring tenderness. "Don't be afraid, Wanwan. It won't happen again..."

Cui Wan would not let go. She only cried and held him, holding him tight.

She had been so afraid. She really had been so afraid...

Chu Moqi let her cling to him, resting his chin on the crown of her head and nuzzling it gently. His hand kept patting her back, again and again, softly and slowly.

Cui Wan was holding him too tightly.

So tightly that her arm pressed right against that patch on the back of his waist.

Chu Moqi's brows drew together slightly, and an exceedingly faint, muffled groan escaped his throat.

It was so quiet it was almost inaudible. But Cui Wan was in his arms, and she heard it.

She froze, her sobbing faltering, and lifted her head to look at him.

"What's wrong?" Cui Wan's eyes were red and swollen, and tears still streaked her face.

Chu Moqi lowered his head to look at her, the corners of his lips lifting slightly.

It was a smile.

Very faint, very slight, with a little exhaustion, a little indulgence, and a little of the evasiveness of "I'm fine."

But when Cui Wan saw it, a sudden ache filled her heart.

A-Qi's face was so pale, his lips so dry, the shadows beneath his eyes so dark. His smile was not beautiful at all. It was even a little frightening. But she knew he was smiling for her.

He was lying to her again, saying he was "fine" again.

Cui Wan's tears welled up once more.

Seeing that she was about to cry again, Chu Moqi hurriedly put away that faint smile, thinking his smile looked so ugly that he had frightened her again.

"I'm fine." His voice grew even softer. "I stayed with you all night. I'm just tired."

Chu Moqi raised his hand to wipe away Cui Wan's tears, his movements exceedingly gentle. "What about you? Are you tired? Do you want to sleep a little longer? The doctor said you need to rest properly."

Cui Wan shook her head.

She buried her face against his shoulder again, her voice muffled, soft and sweet after crying:

"I just want to hold A-Qi."

Chu Moqi paused, then lowered his head and smiled helplessly. "All right. Then hold me."

Cui Wan held him for a long while. As she cried, she suddenly remembered something.

She abruptly lifted her head, tears spilling out again in her urgency.

"A-Qi!" Her voice was thick with tears, urgent and panicked. "Mother... Mother gave me two balls of paper... I-I lost them..."

She remembered. There had been two crumpled pieces of paper hidden in the flatbread Aunt Yue gave her. She had glanced at them, but before she could look closely, she heard someone falling outside. She ran out and saw Aunt Yue lying there. She ran, and kept running, all the way to East Street, all the way to that dilapidated house...

Where were the balls of paper?

She did not know.

She only remembered those people tearing at her clothes, ripping off both her outer robe and her middle garment. Had the paper been lost then too?

Her mother had given it to her.

Cui Wan was so frantic that her tears kept falling. Both hands clutched Chu Moqi's lapels, and her whole body shook.

Watching her so frantic and frightened, Chu Moqi felt as though someone had seized his heart and squeezed it.

He reached out and cupped her face, gently wiping away her tears with his thumbs.

"Silly girl." Chu Moqi's voice was very soft, carrying a trace of helpless amusement. "You hid them in your inner garment. When Qiaoju changed your clothes last night, she gave the paper to me. Don't think about anything else. I'll take care of everything, all right?"

Cui Wan stared at him blankly, tears still clinging to her lashes, forgotten before they could fall.

Her inner garment.

Right. She had hidden the paper in the innermost layer, right against her heart. Those people had torn off her outer robe and middle garment, but A-Qi had arrived before they could rip off her inner garment.

The paper was still there.

What her mother had given her was still there.

She looked at Chu Moqi, at his exhausted, pale face, at eyes filled entirely with her, and her nose stung as she began crying again.

But this time, she cried in relief.

"Mm." She nodded, her voice muffled and soft. "All right."

She threw herself into his arms again, burying her face against his chest.

Chu Moqi lowered his head, resting his chin on the crown of her head and nuzzling it gently...

Cui Wan fell asleep again.

Chu Moqi sat beside the bed, watching her peaceful sleeping face. She looked like a child in sleep, her lashes trembling slightly. Occasionally, she frowned and mumbled something too indistinct to make out.

He reached out and gently tucked in her quilt.

"Qiaoju, Changfeng." Chu Moqi kept his voice very low. "Come in and stay with Wanwan."

Qiaoju and Changfeng answered and entered, keeping watch beside the bed.

Chu Moqi turned his wheelchair and headed for the study.

Every turn of the wheels sent a piercing pain through his lower back. The pressure sores had probably broken open again. He could feel something sticky seeping from his back and clinging to his clothes, wet and painful. The area around his buttocks was probably in a serious state too, but he could not feel it.

He knew what that meant.

But he could not spare it any attention.

He wheeled himself forward, inch by inch. The corridor was not long, but it felt as though he had been turning the wheels for ages. Pain sent waves of darkness across his vision. He gritted his teeth, refusing to let himself collapse.

He thought of last night.

Last night, he had held Wanwan, carrying her all the way back to the residence from East Street, into Orchid Courtyard, and setting her on the bed. When the doctor arrived, he sat beside the bed and watched him take Wanwan's pulse and write a prescription. The doctor said his wife had suffered a fright and was physically weak, that she needed proper rest, but there was nothing seriously wrong.

He had breathed a sigh of relief.

Then he had simply sat there, the entire night.

Wanwan had nightmares, crying "No" in her dreams. He held her hand and said over and over, "I'm here." Wanwan woke with a start once, saw him through her daze, and fell asleep again, reassured. He simply watched her like that, watching her cry, watching her frown, watching her occasionally sob before sinking into deep sleep.

He knew he ought to tend to his wounds, change the dressings, and let himself rest.

But he did not dare leave.

He feared she would not see him when she woke.

He could only sit there like that, all night, until his lower back hurt so much it went numb, until the wounds on his buttocks throbbed with a dull, swollen ache, until both hands were stiff and numb from holding hers for so long.

He did not regret it.

But he found himself ridiculous.

He had tormented himself into this state, letting his body rot, and what had come of it? He had nearly ruined everything and lost Wanwan forever...

He reached the study.

The door was open. Yan Qin and Yan Huai stood inside, and when they saw him approach, they rushed forward almost simultaneously, supporting him on either side.

Only then did Chu Moqi realize that he had nearly slid out of his wheelchair.

"Young master!" Yan Qin's voice held restrained anxiety. "Let me help you lie on your stomach for a while. You won't hold out if this continues."

Chu Moqi waved a hand. "Later."

Yan Qin opened his mouth to say something, then swallowed it back.

Chu Moqi had them help him to the desk and unfolded the two crumpled pieces of paper.

The first was in Yang Xiu's handwriting, messy and hurried, with several places even blurred by tears.

Chu Moqi's pupils contracted slightly.

This Cui Minghai was an impostor.

He was the third son of the Cui family.

Someone who should have died decades ago...

Chu Moqi's fingers tightened around the paper.

He had guessed something was wrong with this man. Ever since that night at Spring Breeze House, he had sensed something amiss-that sense of incongruity, that gaze that made him uncomfortable, that pressure, seemingly gentle but in truth pressing closer at every step. But he had never expected the problem to be this great.

He was not Cui Minghai.

Then where was Wanwan's real father?

Yang Xiu did not know where he was either.

A man who had been missing for three years, and a man who should have died long ago...

Chu Moqi closed his eyes briefly.

The odds boded far more ill than well.

He could almost conclude that the real Cui Minghai had probably long since...

He drew a deep breath and unfolded the second sheet.

A record of proceedings from the Ministry of Works.

The handwriting was neat, the format rigorous, and it bore the seal of the Ministry of Works. It recorded that in the spring of the fourteenth year of Yongchang, Cui Minghai, a bureau director in the Ministry of Works, had willfully disregarded his colleagues' objections and forcibly ordered a waterworks project rushed to completion, causing a dike to collapse and leaving thirty-seven civilian laborers dead or injured.

His crime warranted execution!

Chu Moqi stared at the paper, saying nothing for a long time.

Three years ago, Cui Minghai had been imprisoned. The charge concerned the incident at the Ministry of Works. The evidence had been conclusive and irrefutable. Yet Cui Minghai had kept protesting his innocence, saying he had been wronged, that someone had framed him.

This incriminating evidence was a fabrication, but Cui Minghai himself had intercepted and hidden it. Without concrete evidence, he had only been imprisoned, not sentenced to beheading. And Yang Xiu had kept this document all along, hiding it for three years.

Now, she had handed it to him.

Chu Moqi laid the two sheets side by side on the desk and looked at them.

What Yang Xiu wanted was for him to take this record of proceedings and bring charges against the current, false Cui Minghai, having him put to death.

But what about the real Cui Minghai?

Did Yang Xiu also think... he was already gone?

Chu Moqi closed his eyes briefly.

A moment later, he opened them, his gaze clear once more. "Yan Qin!"

"Here, sir!"

"Send two people to the Cui residence." Chu Moqi's voice was hoarse but steady. "Protect Yang Xiu and Yue Niang in secret. I have no suitable reason to bring them here for now, so this is all we can do. If their lives are threatened, you may directly use force to resist if necessary. Also, keep watch on Cui Minghai. Report any unusual movements immediately!"

"Yes!"

Yan Qin left to carry out his orders.

Chu Moqi turned to Yan Huai.

"Those people from yesterday," his voice turned cold, "have they been dealt with?"

A trace of a smile appeared on Yan Huai's face. "The brothers gave them a very thorough reception. It was incredibly satisfying. Not one was left alive."

Chu Moqi nodded without asking further.

He turned his head aside and braced a hand against the desk.

It hurt...

Darkness washed over his vision in waves. Cold sweat streamed down his temples, dripping onto the desk and spreading into a small damp patch.

Yan Huai was waiting for further instructions. When he looked up, he saw his young master's utterly bloodless face. The hand braced against the desk was trembling slightly, and his body swayed in the wheelchair.

"Young master?!"

Yan Huai blanched in alarm and lunged forward, barely catching the limp body sliding down.

"Hey! Young master!"

Chu Moqi rested against his shoulder, his eyes half closed. His lips moved as he tried to say something, but no words came out.

His hand still clutched those two sheets of paper, holding them tightly.

At last... he could hold on no longer...