Taking a step

Cui Wan had been busy with one thing these past two days-making shoes.

She dug out the sewing basket she had brought with her, chose the best piece of cloth, and sewed it stitch by stitch. A-Qi needed to exercise, and his old black boots were too stiff and inconvenient after all. Cloth shoes were better: soft, snug, and comfortable underfoot.

Although Chu Moqi had no feeling in his legs, in Cui Wan's heart, A-Qi must have been just like anyone else: he could feel pain, feel discomfort, and be hurt by something pressing against him.

So she took particular care with them.

She stitched the soles thick and soft, and used blue-gray cotton for the uppers, plain and tasteful. She added another layer of soft cloth inside the sides, afraid they might chafe his ankles.

Once they were finished, Cui Wan held the shoes and examined them from every angle, filled with delight.

But after her delight came a little unease.

Would A-Qi dislike them? After all, her handiwork certainly could not compare with what the shops sold. Would A-Qi lose his temper again? He was always especially sensitive whenever it involved those legs of his.

Cui Wan hesitated for a long time. In the end, while Chu Moqi was away, she quietly put the shoes in his room.

Then she waited restlessly.

An entire day passed, but Chu Moqi did not come to tell her whether the shoes fit.

One moment, Cui Wan wondered whether A-Qi disliked them but was too embarrassed to say so. The next, she wondered whether he had tossed them aside without even trying them on.

Unable to sit still any longer, she went to look.

The study door stood ajar. Cui Wan gently pushed it open and poked half her head inside.

Then she froze.

Chu Moqi was standing again.

Braced on his two crutches, he stood in front of his wheelchair, his whole body trembling. Large beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, slid along his cheeks, and dripped onto the floor.

He gritted his teeth and, shaking, moved one leg forward a tiny bit, its dangling toes touching the ground.

It really was only a tiny bit. The distance was so small that Cui Wan wondered whether she had seen it wrong. And on his feet were the blue-gray cloth shoes she had made.

"A-Qi!" Cui Wan cried in delighted surprise.

Chu Moqi jerked his head up. At the sight of her, a flicker of panic crossed his eyes, and then he frowned.

"Why did you come in without knocking again..."

His voice came in broken stretches. Holding himself up made even speaking difficult, and Cui Wan instinctively wanted to run over and support him.

"Stay away from me..."

Chu Moqi's voice was very low, with a trace of tension. In truth, he was afraid he would fall on her as he had last time.

Cui Wan understood.

She did not approach. She stayed where she was and watched him: watched the sweat covering his forehead, watched him trembling, watched him grit his teeth to hold that position.

Her heart twisted into a knot of pain.

"A-Qi," she pleaded softly, "let's stop here for today. No more practice, all right?"

Chu Moqi panted. "Just a little longer..."

His voice was quiet but stubborn. In truth, his head had already begun to spin. It had been a very, very long time since he had stood at this height for so long. Even his field of vision was different, and everything seemed to float a little.

He lowered his head to look at Cui Wan.

She stood there looking up at him, such a small little thing, full of worry.

Chu Moqi suddenly remembered the past. When he could still stand, this was always the angle from which he looked at people. Then he had been paralyzed for four years and spent four years in a wheelchair. He had long since forgotten what it felt like to look at someone while standing.

I never really noticed while sitting in my wheelchair. So Wanwan is this little...

Seeing his pale face, Cui Wan grew even more anxious.

"A-Qi, why put yourself through this?" Her voice ached for him. "You can't keep wearing yourself down like this. I asked Yan Qin and the others too. They said rushing things is bad for your health."

Chu Moqi looked into her worried eyes and at the little face she tilted up toward him.

"Wanwan, I want to hold you standing up..."

Cui Wan froze, then forgot everything else. She ran over and buried herself in his chest, wrapping both arms tightly around his waist.

With both hands braced on his crutches, Chu Moqi could not embrace her back. He simply stood there and let her hold him, feeling her warm, soft body pressed against his.

Cui Wan raised her head and looked at him.

"A-Qi, you're so tall." Her eyes curved with a smile, a little wet as well.

Chu Moqi looked at her, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. But his body was already beginning to shake. He could not hold on anymore.

"Wanwan," he said quietly, "I can't hold myself up much longer."

Cui Wan hurriedly released him and helped him sit slowly back into the wheelchair.

As soon as his legs returned to their places, they began to spasm faintly, the muscles twitching beyond his control. His head was covered in sweat, and he was utterly drained.

Cui Wan crouched before him, took out her handkerchief, and carefully wiped away his sweat. Her voice was full of tender concern. "Can't you hold me sitting down too?"

Chu Moqi leaned back in his wheelchair and let her wipe his sweat, the curve still lingering on his lips. "It's different. Standing up, I can gather all of you into my arms." He looked at her, his gaze as soft as a pool of spring water. "You wouldn't have to bend down for me."

Cui Wan's nose stung. She lowered her head and continued wiping his sweat, keeping him from seeing her reddened eyes. Afterward, she reached to undo the wooden splints on his legs.

But Chu Moqi held her hand down. "I'll rest for a while, then practice a little more."

Cui Wan's hand stiffened. She raised her head and looked at him, the tenderness in her eyes turning to stubbornness.

"No!"

Her voice was hard, with a firmness that allowed no argument.

Chu Moqi tried to speak, but Cui Wan glared at him.

"No more practice!" she said fiercely. "Do you hear me?"

Looking at her fierce expression, Chu Moqi suddenly smiled. "All right, no more today. But with these cloth shoes Wanwan gave me, I ought to set foot on the ground a few more times." His gaze fell to the blue-gray cloth shoes on his feet. "I like them very much."

In truth, he could not feel them at all.

Whether the soles were soft or hard, whether the uppers were loose or tight, his feet felt nothing. But Wanwan had made them. Of course he liked them.

At his words, a smile rippled across Cui Wan's face. She lowered her head and continued undoing the cloth ties. As she worked, she suddenly remembered something.

"A-Qi," she said, looking up, "I saw you take a step just now!"

Chu Moqi smiled helplessly. "It was only because of the wooden splints. I used my waist to swing my leg forward a little. It wasn't even three inches."

Cui Wan reached over and covered his mouth. "You're not allowed to say that." She stared at him, a little imperious. "Anyway, A-Qi took a step. In the future, I'll want you to chase after me yourself."

Chu Moqi looked at her earnest face, his lips curving. "Then you mustn't complain that I'm slow."

Cui Wan lowered her head and lay across his legs, burying her face in the robe over his knees... "I'll wait for you, A-Qi."

Her voice was soft, carrying a certainty that put one's heart at ease. Chu Moqi lowered his head and looked at the fluffy crown of her head, a bittersweet ache in his heart.

Silly girl, I won't get better.

That step, that inch, none of it was real. I'll never be able to chase you, never be able to run like anyone else, never be able to lift you into my arms and spin you around.

But Chu Moqi said nothing. He merely reached out and gently laid his hand on Cui Wan's back.

Wanwan, even if I never get better, I'll still protect you...

Several days later.

Yan Huai had been nagging the entire way, his mouth never stopping for a moment.

"Young master, not to criticize, but you've only just managed to hold your whole body up. You can't even call it taking a step yet. Why try riding a horse? How could you possibly sit steadily?"

Chu Moqi sat expressionlessly in his wheelchair and let him push him forward, as though those words were merely wind passing his ears.

Yan Qin followed on the other side, also frowning. "Young master, you mustn't rush things." His voice was steady, but carried clear concern. "The physician already advised against practicing standing with support. It could damage your legs under the pressure, and your arms could easily be injured too. Riding is absolutely out of the question."

Chu Moqi still said nothing.

Yan Huai could not help speaking again. "Young master, if you're set on having a little young master, some simple exercise is enough. If you fall and hurt yourself again, won't that put an end to the little young master..."

His words stopped short, because Chu Moqi's icy gaze had already swept toward him.

Yan Huai shrank his neck and quickly shut his mouth, pretending he had said nothing.

Chu Moqi withdrew his gaze and said mildly, "The marquis's household may face many things in the future. This isn't just about strengthening my body. I also need to... be able to protect Wanwan."

The wheelchair continued rolling forward.

"A wheelchair limits my movements, after all." His voice grew quieter. "I have to try riding."

Yan Qin and Yan Huai exchanged a glance and said nothing more.

The small riding ground stood in the northwestern corner of the marquis's estate. It had lain unused for four years.

The grass had grown tall, soft and rustling underfoot. In the distance, a horse stood quietly beside the fence. Hearing them, it raised its head and glanced their way.

Chu Moqi's gaze settled on the horse, and for a moment he was lost in a daze.

It was his horse.

Four years ago, he had ridden it behind his father and elder brother, passing along this path countless times. It knew him, and he knew it. Back then, he had been in the bloom of youth, one boy and one horse, brimming with spirit.

Now it was old, and he was crippled.

When the horse saw him, it seemed to recognize him. It snorted softly and walked toward him. Reaching the fence, it lowered its head and rubbed its nose against his shoulder.

Chu Moqi raised his hand and gently stroked its face.

Yan Qin said nothing more. He knew further words were useless. No one could stop the young master once he had decided something.

He silently went over to the horse and began fastening specially made equipment to the saddle. He had worked through the night to make it from thick leather straps and soft padding, so it could securely hold Chu Moqi's waist and lower body in place.

The horse was very obedient. It seemed to know who would be on its back and what he wanted to do. Slowly, it bent its front legs, then its hind legs, lowering its whole body until it lay on the ground.

Yan Qin and Yan Huai stepped forward and carefully lifted Chu Moqi from his wheelchair onto the horse's back.

They fastened the leather straps one by one, securing Chu Moqi's waist and legs to the saddle.

Chu Moqi looked down at the straps on his body, his lips curving slightly with a trace of self-mockery.

Four years ago, that youth in splendid clothes on a spirited horse would surely have found it laughable to see himself trussed up like this on horseback.

Yan Qin bent down and tucked his feet into the stirrups. His feet were limp, still wearing the dark-blue cloth shoes Cui Wan had made him. They could exert no strength at all and merely rested lightly in the stirrups, held entirely in place by the straps.

The horse stood up.

Chu Moqi's body lurched violently before the straps caught him securely. He sat crookedly, supported entirely by those straps, which alone kept him from sliding off the horse.

How long had it been since he had ridden?

Four years.

Four whole years.

Out of habit, he wanted to make the horse move, instinctively trying to squeeze its flanks with his legs-but neither leg responded. They hung limply, unable to exert any force.

He no longer had his spear either. In the past, a tap of its shaft against the horse's rump would send it charging forward. Now he could barely lift the spear, and could only leave it resting quietly on its rack.

Chu Moqi could only grasp the reins with difficulty, then use them to lightly flick the horse's neck.

The horse was very obedient. It began moving, walking slowly forward.

One step, two steps, three steps.

Chu Moqi struggled to steady himself, his waist and back held rigidly straight. Yet his body swayed with every step. He gritted his teeth, desperately trying to stay steady, and sweat began trickling down his temples.

His lower back ached terribly, as though it were about to break.

But he kept holding on.

A dozen steps, twenty-odd steps, thirty-odd steps-

Suddenly, Chu Moqi's body tipped sharply to one side.

He could not hold on anymore.

Memories of the past surged over him like a tide-four years ago, falling from his horse, hooves trampling his back, that crisp crack, that tearing agony, the lower body that had felt nothing ever since...

Chu Moqi's face turned deathly white in an instant, his entire body trembling.

"Young master!" Yan Qin had been watching him closely all along. Seeing something was wrong, he immediately rushed forward and seized the reins to stop the horse. Yan Huai ran over too, and the two hurriedly undid the straps and lifted him off its back.

The moment Chu Moqi's body left the straps, it went limp as a heap of mud. He could not sit upright and slid downward, until Yan Qin caught him.

He was trembling.

From his shoulders to his fingertips, from his chest to his waist and back, his entire body shook. His face was ashen, his lips bloodless, and large beads of sweat rolled down his temples.

Without a word, Yan Qin bent down, took him onto his back, and strode back.

"Young master, you truly cannot ride again." His voice was low, with a seriousness it had never held before.

Yan Huai followed beside them, pushing the empty wheelchair and chiming in, "Exactly, young master! The little young master matters more! If you damage your back again, you really won't be able to!"

Chu Moqi lay on Yan Qin's back with his eyes closed and said nothing.

Only after a long while did he speak, his voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible.

"Shut up... don't... let her know."

Yan Huai froze for a moment, then understood who "her" was. He sighed. "All right, all right. If madam finds out, she'll say you've been acting recklessly again..."

Chu Moqi did not answer.

He merely closed his eyes and let Yan Qin carry him back, step by step.

With this broken body of mine, how can I protect Wanwan...