Tao Xianzhi was adjusting his belt as he stepped out from the latrine and happened to catch sight of the scene just in time.
The drunkard was subdued by the steward and the waiters. Hearing a faint, muffled groan, Fu Jingxuan immediately sobered up halfway. Struggling to free himself from Fang Zesheng’s embrace, he asked anxiously, “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”
Fang Zesheng gradually straightened up. He first surveyed Fu Jingxuan and seeing that he was unharmed, he finally said, “It’s nothing.”
Fu Jingxuan did not believe him and immediately wanted the steward to find a physician.
Fang Zesheng took his hand and shook his head, signaling him not to bother.
There were still many young men from the tea market in the eating house, most of whom had seen what Fang Zesheng looked like in his youth. Earlier, everyone had been absorbed in their own drinking and hadn’t paid him any mind, but now that the drunkard was causing a commotion, all eyes turned toward them. Some did not dare recognize him at first, but once they did, they began pointing at his wheelchair and whispering; their gazes filled with nothing but mockery and pity.
Fu Jingxuan said no more. He called for Tao Xianzhi to settle the bill and pushed Fang Zesheng back to the Fang residence.
Around Haishi[mfn]9 PM.[/mfn], the candlelight flickered in the study of the inner courtyard.
Fang Zesheng lay prone on the wooden couch with his face buried in the pillow.
Fu Jingxuan had just helped him onto the bed, forcibly removing his upper garment to reveal the bruised, purple shoulder beneath. With his ears turning red, he said, “I told you it was fine.”
Fu Jingxuan turned a deaf ear while instructing the mute uncle to help him find some medicine for the injury.
The mute uncle lingered nearby and was filled with concern; first over his young master’s injury and then over the possibility that a quarrel might erupt amid their struggles. Unable to help either way, he broke into a sweat from anxiety. Seeing his young master finally yield, he let out a sigh of relief and hurried over with the medicine chest.
The chest was mostly filled with bottles and jars of internal pills; remedies for traumatic injuries were rare. Fu Jingxuan rummaged through it for a while and found a usable bottle. Just as he was about to sit by the couch to apply the medicine for Fang Zesheng, he discovered a slender blue cloth bag at the very bottom of the chest. The bag looked somewhat worn with a few fine threads fraying at the drawstring, suggesting it was opened and used frequently.
Fu Jingxuan picked up the bag and remained silent for a long moment while lightly grazing the fabric with his fingers. Having guessed what was inside, he knitted his brows.
Half an incense stick’s time later.
Fang Zesheng turned over the couch. After helping him apply the medicine, Fu Jingxuan stepped out, followed by the mute uncle.
The two didn’t go far, lingering silently by the study door.
Fu Jingxuan held out the blue cloth bag and handed it to the mute uncle.
The mute uncle froze, his hands instinctively trembling. In his haste earlier, he had forgotten about this item when bringing the medical chest. Fearing Fu Jingxuan would notice something amiss, he hurriedly masked a trace of heartache and gestured with a smile: What does Second Master Fu mean by this?
Seeing that he wouldn’t speak, Fu Jingxuan opened the cloth bag, took out two silver needles, and then pulled out a diagram of the leg’s meridians that had been tucked inside the medicine chest.
When the mute uncle saw these two items, a lump formed in his throat, and the wrinkled skin of his face twitched in a way that looked like a mix of crying and laughing.
Fu Jingxuan asked, “What are these needles used for?”
The mute uncle opened his mouth, but then simply shook his head.
“Chen Fu said before that Fang Zesheng’s legs should have healed long ago, but every time he administered acupuncture, there was no sensation, so he concluded it was caused by a mental block.” Fu Jingxuan kept his eyes lowered while twirling the two silver needles between his fingertips.
The mute uncle sighed and was about to nod, but then he heard Fu Jingxuan say, “I think otherwise.”
“Practice makes perfect. If you endure pain long enough, you eventually stop feeling it.”
The mute uncle’s hands remained still as Fu Jingxuan continued, “Even if you don’t tell me, I can guess.”
“Fang Zesheng used these needles to harm himself just to deceive Chen Fu’s eyes, didn’t he?”
The mute uncle’s eyes instantly reddened. Seeing that he could no longer hide the truth, he slowly nodded.
Fu Jingxuan closed his eyes while curling the two thin needles into his palm. “So, he really has been faking his paralysis all these years?”
The mute uncle nodded first, then gestured: Six years ago, the Young Master regained sensation in his legs, but he had to hide it from Madam Wang; he couldn’t just stand up whenever he pleased.
Fang Zesheng was eighteen that year, just old enough to assume responsibility for affairs. Had he actually stood in Wang Xiuhe’s way, there was no knowing what pretext she might have used to simply have him killed. Only by feigning paralysis by acting at times mad, at times foolish, at times joyful, and at times furious in her presence; had he managed to survive until now. Wang Xiuhe was naturally suspicious; no matter how Fang Zesheng behaved, she never fully trusted him. Even seeing those two legs broken before her very eyes, she couldn’t have believed they would stay unhealed for so long. Thus, she summoned Chen Fu, asking the physician to perform acupuncture; ostensibly to treat his legs, but in reality, it was a test.
The mute uncle’s gestures were unclear, so he led Fu Jingxuan to his own room and wrote down with a brush: The first time the needles were applied, Madam Wang almost caught on. Had the Young Master not used a bout of typhoid fever as a pretext to dismiss it, this old servant feared the secret wouldn’t have remained hidden to this day. From that day on, the Young Master had this old servant fetch several silver needles. Using the meridian chart as a guide, he inserted the needles into himself one by one. By the time Physician Chen returned, he could withstand far more.
Fu Jingxuan’s heart tightened. “Then how could his legs withstand it?”
The mute uncle hesitated with the brush for a moment before slowly writing: At the time, this old servant was also worried that the Young Master’s meridians might be harmed, so this old servant secretly obtained several herbs to occasionally soak them. Though he couldn’t walk, the Young Master still had feelings in his legs. This old servant told myself it was all right if he couldn’t stand for now; as long as the Young Master’s legs retained feeling, the day Madam Wang was driven away, he would eventually be able to walk again.
Before Fu Jingxuan’s brow could relax, the mute uncle’s brushwork shifted. With a trembling hand, he wrote: But this old servant fears this will no longer be possible in the future.
Fu Jingxuan asked, “Why?”
The mute uncle wrote: Before the Tea Tasting Convention, Madam Wang had Physician Chen visit repeatedly to apply acupuncture. The Young Master’s leg meridians were already fragile and could not withstand the strain. After a severe illness, when he next opened his eyes, there was… no longer any feeling in his legs.
……
The lights in the main house had not yet been lit even after past midnight.
Dressed in his inner robes, Fang Zesheng leaned against the wooden couch. The mute uncle entered with reddened eyes and handed him the cloth bag containing the silver needles before making a few gestures.
Understanding his meaning, Fang Zesheng fell into a long silence. Finally, he exhaled and told him to fetch a black cloak. Once it draped over his shoulders, he stepped out into the courtyard.
A gust of wind swept through the courtyard, rustling the trees and flowers. It spooked the carp in the lotus pond and set off a chorus of croaks from the frogs.
At some unknown point, Fu Jingxuan had climbed onto the roof. He sat on the eaves drinking a jar of fruit wine with his back to the courtyard.
This wine was meant to be sweet, yet for some reason today it had turned bitter; so bitter it made Second Master Fu’s heart tighten, and his eyes grow dry and stinging, so uncomfortable he was on the verge of shedding tears. He couldn’t help but take his anger out on others, thinking to himself that since Tao Xianzhi bought the wine, Tao Xianzhi must have done this on purpose to make him weep and become a laughingstock.
A moment’s carelessness had allowed the man to succeed.
Fu Jingxuan set down the wine jar, planning to rest his eyes and enjoy the moonlight above, when he suddenly noticed a sky lantern floating past. Then another appeared. And another.
“If Second Master Fu still doesn’t turn around, I will be out of lanterns.”
Startled, Fu Jingxuan turned and saw Fang Zesheng sitting in the courtyard.
Fang Zesheng’s expression was calm as he held the last plain white sky lantern. After locking eyes with him for a long moment, he actually parted his lips and broke into a long-awaited smile.
That smile was like snow thawing on a cold mountain, or green willows dancing in the breeze.
Fu Jingxuan was momentarily dazed and asked, “Why is the Head Merchant smiling?”
Fang Zesheng looked at him tenderly and released the sky lantern toward him. “Second Master Fu gave his heart to me, and I felt joy.”
“I wanted to smile, so I did.”
