Forty-one, Jiang Mochen Is Ill

On the second day, Jiang Mochen opened his eyes and felt warmth enveloping his body, as if a giant octopus had wrapped itself tightly around him. Turning his head, he saw Su Wan’s arms looped around his neck, one leg firmly hooked around his waist.

He was just about to gently push Su Wan’s arms away when she stirred, blinking sleepily at the window. “What? It’s still dark outside. Let’s sleep a bit longer,” she murmured, tightening her hold on his neck and drifting back to sleep.

Jiang Mochen, however, lay rigid and uncomfortable, tense and afraid to move. He stared straight up at the ceiling, not daring to utter a single word.

“What’s wrong with you?” Su Wan’s eyes suddenly snapped open. “Why are you stiff as a corpse?”

Jiang Mochen remained silent. Su Wan propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him. “Are you thinking about consummating the marriage?”

The words startled Jiang Mochen, who immediately sprang up from the bed. Su Wan grabbed him by the neck and pinned him back down.

“If you don’t want to consummate, why did you marry me?” she asked, slightly out of breath from her exertion.

Jiang Mochen’s face flushed bright red like a boiled shrimp. He stammered, “I… I’m afraid it’s not convenient for you.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Su Wan replied, lips curling into a smile, her eyes gleaming.

What happened next, neither could tell who made the first move; once started, there was no stopping.

By the time the two emerged from the room, it was nearly noon. Jiang Mochen had never risen so late before. He quickly prepared the meal, and Su Wan, having just finished her bath, appeared with wet hair still dripping.

Jiang Mochen placed the food on a small round table, then went back inside. When he returned, he carried a towel in his hand and handed it to Su Wan.

Su Wan grinned at him. “Aren’t you going to help me dry it?”

Jiang Mochen’s face reddened again as he began to towel her hair.

He blushed so easily; every time, Su Wan was tempted to tease him.

Marriage was wonderful.

Su Wan savored the thought, then suddenly grabbed his hand. “That wine last night was too strong. I got drunk after just one cup. I still have something to give you.”

She pulled a small box from her pocket and tugged Jiang Mochen down to sit beside her. “I bought wedding rings. Let me put yours on.”

Jiang Mochen felt as awkward as a schoolboy, and he’d never known the heart could beat so quickly—thudding as if it might leap out of his chest.

“Alright, now it’s your turn to put mine on,” Su Wan said, extending her hand.

Her fingers were long and delicate. Jiang Mochen held her hand, slowly sliding the ring onto her finger. As he was about to let go, Su Wan suddenly caught his hand. “You’re too perfunctory. Aren’t you supposed to say a vow?”

Jiang Mochen couldn’t withstand her teasing; he gently pushed her hand away. “Let’s eat first.”

Su Wan smiled, lifting her bowl. Never mind, she thought, there would be plenty of time ahead—they could let him off today.

After eating, Jiang Mochen went to wash the dishes, and Su Wan helped tidy the table.

With no farm work for a few days, the afternoon was free. Su Wan took out her notebook to tally up her accounts: sales from lipstick these days, added to her earlier embroidery earnings. She had nearly ten thousand.

In this era, ten thousand was enough to buy a sizeable house in the city.

But she decided to invest the money instead.

She could slowly start up her cosmetics factory, initially hiring a few people to collect cochineal insects.

Later, she could lease a plot of land to grow cacti directly.

Beyond the Roselle and Rouge shades, she could gradually develop other colors.

Ideas multiplied in Su Wan’s mind, and she scribbled a long list in her notebook.

When she finally looked up, Jiang Mochen had disappeared. Su Wan didn’t think much of it and began to organize the belongings she’d brought.

She fetched a basin of water, intending to tidy up the unused rooms in the courtyard.

Walking to the west wing, she noticed that one room’s door had always been tightly closed, never opened.

Su Wan hadn’t planned to enter; she only wanted to clean the glass, remove the cobwebs.

Through the dark window, she quickly swept away the webs and saw inside, rows of opera costumes and several ornate headdresses.

The costumes were vibrant with exquisite embroidery, and the headpieces were adorned with beads of all sizes.

Su Wan was captivated by the beauty of these items, unable to tear her eyes away.

Curious, she wondered what Jiang Mochen would look like dressed in these costumes.

His face was so handsome; with makeup, he could easily become a star performer.

While her mind wandered, footsteps sounded behind her. “You must be Mochen’s wife?”

Startled, Su Wan turned to find a woman behind her, dressed in a dark green cheongsam, with wavy hair and phoenix eyes.

The woman gently turned a jade bracelet on her wrist and swept her gaze over Su Wan. “Not bad, that boy has good taste.”

She extended her hand. “Hello, I’m Jiang Moqing, Jiang Mochen’s sister.”

Su Wan shook her hand, “I’m Su Wan.”

Jiang Moqing smiled and asked, “Curious about what’s inside?”

Su Wan nodded, “It’s quite beautiful.”

Jiang Moqing gave a cold laugh. “Of course it’s beautiful. Our foster father guarded these things for most of his life.”

She took a key from her small purse. “If you’re curious, go in and have a look.”

Once inside, Su Wan saw that the costumes were well preserved, each housed in its own glass cabinet.

She looked around and noticed many whips hanging on the walls.

Jiang Moqing glanced at them, saying indifferently, “Those were used to beat us.”

Su Wan was stunned; the whips were barbed, and a gentle touch would slice a finger open. Used on people, they could easily be fatal.

Besides the whips, several branding irons hung on the wall.

Su Wan recalled the patterned scars on Jiang Mochen’s waist, suddenly understanding. “Did he use the branding irons on you too?”

“Of course.” Hatred flickered in Jiang Moqing’s eyes. “Whenever his craving for cigarettes struck, he’d torture us.”

Su Wan could hardly believe it, her chest rising and falling with disbelief. “Why didn’t you run away?!”

“Run away?” Jiang Moqing suddenly laughed. “The oldest among us was only twelve. Where could we go?”

“Run outside just to be eaten like food?”

Su Wan couldn’t believe people were ever so hungry as to eat others. Her heart felt blocked, unable to say a word.

Jiang Moqing stroked the costumes. “Su Wan, you must never betray him.”

“He’s sick, you know?”

Su Wan said nothing, staring at her in a daze.

“He desperately wants someone to stay with him, will do anything to keep anyone who’s kind to him close.”

Jiang Moqing laughed at herself. “He’s like a pitiful, shaking dog. Anyone who feeds him, he’ll treat as his master.”

Eating at a small round table.

Su Wan’s hair was still wet, dripping water.