FMT 19

Chapter 19 Forced Questions

After it was over, Chen Shuangning helped wipe down the already unconscious Liandan. Afterwards, Old Madam Chen dragged her crippled leg and carried Xiaodan back to the bed, laying him beside his father.

The child had never been one to trouble adults much. After his hundred days had passed, he rarely woke at night anymore.

Chen Shuangning stood on the ground beside the bed, his heavy gaze resting on the sleeping pair, one large and one small. He looked at them for a long time.

The next day, when Liandan woke, he found the sun already close to overhead. Breakfast had long passed, and it was nearly time to prepare lunch.

The bed beside him was empty. He heard the clatter of pots and bowls in the outer room, along with Xiaodan’s babbling cries.

With the fire lit, the house was warm.

Liandan lazily crawled out from under the covers, sat leaning against the headboard, and raised his hand to smooth his messy hair.

The cool bracelet slipped down to his forearm. He turned his head to look, touched it with his other hand, and at the feel of its smooth cold surface, his gaze softened and the corners of his lips curved in a smile.

When he got out of bed, his thin legs gave way beneath him, and he nearly fell to the floor.

But he had no suspicion.

Over the past year, Liandan had grown used to the pain that always came on full moon nights.

In recent months, for some reason, the nights had not been so painful. But the day after each full moon, his body always felt as weak as if he was stricken with a chill, unable to do much all day.

But lying in bed for a day was far better than that bone-deep agony. Liandan did not mind it.

Lunch was once again mushy noodles. Chen Shuangning brought the bowl to the bedside for him.

Perhaps because he had grown used to it, Liandan felt it did not taste especially bad.

The young man sat in the chair beside the bed, holding Xiaodan while watching him eat. When Liandan finished, he set the child back by his side and went to tidy up the bowls.

Liandan played with Xiaodan for a while. Later, Chen Shuangning brought over a bowl of cooled goat milk and had him feed the child spoon by spoon.

He stood by the bed watching. When Liandan raised his head toward him, Chen Shuangning just happened to look away and turned to leave.

Liandan felt it odd but did not think much of it.

At bedtime, a bowl of medicine was set before him. Remembering the bitter taste from last time, Liandan shrank back slightly and asked softly, “I feel much better. Can I not drink this?”

Chen Shuangning’s lips moved. “There are tonics inside. Drink it.”

Hearing that, Liandan could not bear to waste it. He forced the bitterness down in one breath.

Warm water was handed to him. He drained it too, but the bitterness clung in his throat, lingering a while before it faded.

The next day, Liandan was fully recovered and able to work again.

But as days passed, a new unease grew in him.

He was timid by nature, not lively like many boys or girls his age. Perhaps because of his family’s hardships, he had learned early to watch faces and moods. One careless moment could earn a beating or scolding. His mind was sharp to the smallest shifts in emotion.

These past days, outwardly nothing about Chen Shuangning seemed different. Each morning he left early, each evening he returned before supper.

When he came back, he handed over his day’s wages, helped with cooking, and took care of the child.

At night, when free, he patiently taught him words and writing.

When the time came, he tidied up and urged him to sleep.

Yet Liandan still felt his attitude toward him was not the same.

For instance, Chen Shuangning often avoided his gaze. It seemed deliberate, though perhaps it was only coincidence, whenever Liandan looked his way, the man’s eyes shifted elsewhere.

Or when taking Xiaodan from his arms, their fingers sometimes brushed. In the past, it was nothing, but lately, he clearly felt Chen Shuangning pull his hand back, almost too quickly.

And at night, when the man had often been seated by the window in meditation, these two nights he was gone again. Like when he had first returned, he would simply vanish without a trace.

Liandan saw it all clearly, yet inside he was lost and did not know what to do.

After Mid-Autumn, the weather grew colder by the day. Clothes had to be worn thicker.

The walks with Xiaodan, once taken after breakfast, were moved to noon when the sun was warmest.

Tang Hua also came out carrying his child, and the two strolled together along the riverbank.

His firstborn was a baby girl, over two months old now. Following Xiaodan’s nickname, they had called her Xiaohua, though her proper name was still undecided.

As they walked slowly, they chatted.

Xiaohua was still small, wrapped in a thin quilt in Tang Hua’s arms, a little hat shielding her eyes from the sun.

Xiaodan had his own hat, a tiger-head hat his aunt had made, very fierce-looking. But he only liked looking at the other child’s. Curious, he stared fixedly, reaching whenever close enough to tug the little cap away. Each time he almost touched it, the distance widened again, and he grew so frustrated he kicked and wriggled hard.

The two adults chatting did not notice the children’s exchanges. Tang Hua was speaking of his household affairs.

His parents-in-law were not displeased that his first born is a girl. They doted on her, calling her the eldest granddaughter and treating her well.

But some days ago, his mother-in-law privately told him that they still had to try for a son. She said the child was nearly three months old, and she had asked the village doctor. It was time to prepare for another pregnancy.

At night, she even took Xiaohua away to sleep elsewhere.

Tang Hua told Li Fu he wanted to share a bed, but Li Fu refused, afraid it was too soon after childbirth, that it would harm his body.

Back and forth, they quarreled.

Feeling something was wrong, Li Fu asked him, and at last Tang Hua confessed what his mother-in-law had said. Li Fu was furious and quarreled with his parents the very next day. Tang Hua could not stop him.

“What happened after?” Liandan asked anxiously.

His own father had beaten his mother and their siblings daily for not bearing a son. Hearing Tang Hua’s story made his heart tighten.

Moreover, with Li Fu making such a scene, did that not leave Tang Hua stuck in the middle, unable to please either side?

But Tang Hua’s face shone like the sun. He grinned and said, “They quarreled, and I went inside and sat on the floor and cried. Xiaohua cried with me, and then they could not quarrel anymore. Mother-in-law said she had been impatient, that she wronged me. My husband said from then on he would listen to me, told me not to cry. Later, Mother-in-law cooked me a bowl of sweet soup. I drank it, and then everything was fine.”

Liandan was surprised. “That was it?”

Tang Hua nodded. “That night back in our room, I told my husband everything in my heart. He promised me, after Xiaohua reaches three months, we will try for another child.”

The bright smile on his face dimmed somewhat. With his head lowered, he said quietly, “I told him, although his parents treat me well, as long as there is no son, they will always be thinking of it. In the Li family, I will never have peace. If I can have another child sooner, my days will be easier.”

Liandan blinked. “You said it to him that directly?”

Tang Hua nodded.

Liandan asked in puzzlement, “He was not angry?”

Tang Hua looked at him seriously. “Why would he be angry at me for telling him the truth? Husband and wife are supposed to live a lifetime together. They should be the people in the world who trust and confide in each other most. If everything is hidden and bottled up, it only breeds resentment. If it goes on like that, decades from now we will just end up a bitter couple.”

Liandan stared at him, his expression shifting several times. At last, he pressed his lips together and said, “You are right.”

That night, after Xiaodan was asleep and Liandan finished his lessons, Chen Shuangning tidied away the brushes and ink, washed his hands, and sat at the window.

But Liandan did not blow out the lamp. Instead, he carried the lampstand over and sat at the other side of the table.

Chen Shuangning raised his head to look at him. The lamp oil was nearly gone, and the flame lit only the lower half of his face, pale and expressionless. His eyes were hidden in shadow.

Liandan forced up his courage and coughed lightly. He dared not delay, for the longer he waited, the harder it was to speak. With the courage Tang Hua had given him in the day, he shut his eyes, gritted his teeth, and asked outright, “Are you dissatisfied with me?”

Chen Shuangning seemed to be looking at him, and he clearly heard the question, but he only sat in silence.

Yet Liandan noticed that at the moment he spoke, the man’s fingers on the table moved slightly.

He was not unmoved. That gave Liandan more courage.

“I can feel it. These days, you are deliberately avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?” Liandan pressed.

But Chen Shuangning still did not answer.

Liandan grew anxious. He lowered his eyes, rims reddening, his voice so low it was almost inaudible. “Are we not husband and wife? Why can we not just speak plainly?”

The lamp wick burned down, spitting out a few sparks. Before the light died, Liandan saw the man’s fingers curl into a fist on the table.

The sparks leapt across the pale back of his hand with its faint blue veins, then went out.

He had not tried to avoid it.

Liandan’s mind went blank for a moment. Then his eyes widened. In that instant, he suddenly realized something, and his heart suddenly grew frantic.

The questions he had meant to ask were all pushed aside by the doubt now rising in him.

The lamp went out. Only the faint outline of the man across the table remained.

In the dark, breathing grew uneven.

And now that he could not see the man’s face, Liandan realized that the person he thought he knew so well looked unfamiliar.

Suddenly, Liandan shot to his feet.

His voice trembled. “Are you… really my husband?”

The figure across the table did not move, remaining silent.

Liandan’s heart pounded fast as he slowly backed away.

Just then, the figure lifted his face slightly, turned toward him, and finally spoke in that hoarse, strange voice. “Last time, you already asked me this.”

Tears glimmered in Liandan’s eyes, mixed with suspicion and fear he himself had not yet recognized.

“But… last time, you did not give me a direct answer. Yes, or no.”

Though timid, Liandan still stood firm, waiting for the reply.

The silence stretched on. At last, the man by the table rose, stepped forward twice, and stood tall before the small figure.

Liandan tilted his head back, trying hard not to shrink away, his voice choking as he asked again, “Are you my husband?”

In the dark, Liandan could not see Chen Shuangning’s expression, but Chen Shuangning could see him clearly.

This time, Liandan was afraid, yet also determined. He would accept no vague or evasive answer.

Chen Shuangning knew clearly that in this moment, he could no longer avoid it. His reply would decide everything.

His throat moved. He lowered his gaze, then raised it again.

At last, under Liandan’s fearful yet expectant eyes, he said, “Yes. I am your husband.”

This path, brought to this point by twists of fate, could only be continued now.