Chapter 3: Touch
Feng Yuzhen whipped her head around to see Cui Jingkong standing just inside the open doorway.
The faint moonlight slipped through the window into the woodshed, illuminating only the indifferent expression on the young man’s profile. The other half of his face was completely swallowed by darkness, impossible to discern.
In the interplay of light and shadow, the angles of his features sharpened abruptly, their lines as stark and profound as the ravines of a mountain range.
A sudden chill seized her. The hand holding the bowl trembled, nearly spilling the soup. She quickly steadied it with both hands.
“…I made some soup for everyone. Drink it to warm up after coming back tonight,” she apologized uneasily. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
There was no reply. Cui Jingkong’s brow furrowed slightly as he stared motionlessly at the bowl in her hands, his thoughts unreadable. Feng Yuzhen’s hands grew numb before he finally, slowly, began to move.
He raised a hand to take the bowl. Given his height, his hands were naturally large. His fingers were long and slender, his palm easily cupping the bottom of the bowl.
His fingertips brushed lightly against Feng Yuzhen’s wrist. It should have been a fleeting contact, but for some reason, his movement paused for a moment before he pulled away.
As soon as he took the bowl, Feng Yuzhen hastily withdrew her hand. Cui Jingkong’s hand was very warm, almost like a furnace. The patch of skin he had touched felt slightly hot and itchy, and she was quite unsettled by it.
“Kong’ge’er, please rest well after you finish the soup. I won’t keep you any longer. We have a long way to go tomorrow.”
After she finished speaking dryly, a passing cloud conveniently obscured the moon. The light dimmed, and even the half of Cui Jingkong’s face she could see was now indistinct.
She only heard a soft “mm” from him. Instantly feeling as if she had been granted amnesty, she quickly left.
She had no way of knowing that Cui Jingkong did not immediately close the door. Instead, he stood quietly in place, his dark eyes fixed on her slightly limping figure, like a beast of prey poised to strike in the darkness, waiting to devour its victim.
Only when her figure disappeared around the corner did he close the door. Then, mustering his strength, he staggered to place the bowl on the small table. This simple action had completely drained his energy; he couldn’t even take two more steps to get back to his bed.
An invisible hammer seemed to crash down on him from above. Cui Jingkong’s body swayed, and finally, unable to hold on any longer, he fell stiffly to the ground.
Wave after wave of agony, so intense it felt as if it would tear him apart, surged from within his body, as if his very bones were being crushed inch by inch.
A dense sheen of fine sweat broke out on his forehead, and his lips turned white. Yet the amber prayer beads on his left wrist emitted a strange, golden ringing sound.
The ringing grew faster and faster, like a sharp object piercing his brain. His consciousness was already fading, but he did not beg for mercy, nor did he bother to cry out in pain. It was more accurate to say he was already used to it.
This was a curse placed upon him when he was ten.
At that time, Abbot Faxuan was nearing the end of his life. Before dying, his withered hand had gripped Cui Jingkong’s small arm tightly, his turbid eyes shot with blood, nearly bursting from their sockets.
He had forced Cui Jingkong to swear that for all eternity, he would never kill the innocent. If he violated this oath, the abbot would exchange all his life’s merits for Cui Jingkong to spend the rest of his days as if in the Avici Hell, suffering the torments of axes and boiling cauldrons.
Then, flashes of blood-stained robes, a rushing stream on a rainy night, and a head held under his palm, struggling desperately in the water before gradually going limp—the almost soul-shaking ecstasy of controlling life and death.
These chaotic images were already etched into his memory. A newish, docile, and fair face suddenly surfaced in his mind—the short, downy hairs on her face illuminated by the candlelight as she chanted with clasped hands, looking exceptionally soft.
The moonlight opportunely shone upon him again.
Cui Jingkong’s face was pressed against the ground, stained with dust and mud. When he fell, the side of his face had scraped against a pile of firewood, leaving a short scratch. He was a wretched sight.
Even as his body cried out in agony and blood began to seep slowly from the corners of his eyes, he only moved those two fingers.
He gently rubbed their pads together, as if recalling the delicate, cool touch of that slender inner wrist.
Like a basin of ice water poured over a raging fire, the overwhelming agony that had tormented him for two years vanished completely the moment he touched her. In that instant, he felt a peace he had never known before.
Cui Jingkong’s eyes suddenly flew open. His lashes were dotted with specks of blood, and his pupils were somewhat dilated from the pain, but he didn’t care.
He bit down on the two fingers that had touched her, sinking his teeth into them bit by bit until the skin broke and blood flowed. Then, he slowly licked it away, the fresh blood staining his thin lips a vivid, garish red.
An unexpected gain.
In the midst of extreme pain, he let out a low laugh.
*
Feng Yuzhen had left in a panic and was still shaken when she returned to the side room. But the more she thought about what had just happened, the more something felt wrong.
The moment she blew out the candle before sleep, it suddenly dawned on her.
She got up and looked out the window. Sure enough, a flat, waning crescent moon hung high in the sky, wreathed in floating clouds.
In the storybook, from the age of fifteen, on every night of the waning crescent moon when clouds were present, Cui Jingkong would stay alone in his room for the entire night, only emerging at the first light of dawn, looking exhausted and disheveled.
As for the reason, Feng Yuzhen’s heart tightened, a chill running up her spine. She tucked the quilt tightly under herself, trying to get warmer.
Because at the age of fifteen, Cui Jingkong had killed for the first time with his own hands
*
“Zhen’niang, I don’t think Cui Er will be back for a while. Why don’t you leave after the noon meal?”
“Thank you, First Aunt,” Feng Yuzhen took the bundle from Liu Guilan’s hands. “The road will be harder to travel after dark. If we hurry, we can still make it back for dinner.”
The two new brides who had been staying with Feng Yuzhen in the ancestral hall had just returned to the main residence, leaving only Liu Guilan here to see her off.
The kind-hearted old woman was now somewhat worried. “Alright then. But this Cui Er went out early this morning, just told me he’d be back in a bit, and we’ve been waiting until now.”
At the mention of Cui Jingkong, Feng Yuzhen’s expression became unnatural. Liu Guilan didn’t notice and just pulled her close to give instructions:
“Zhen’niang, now that you’ve left the main residence, what about your family? Don’t blame me for being nosy, but now that it’s just you and Cui Er, you have to be careful your wretched father doesn’t show up at your door one day.”
Feng Yuzhen was taken aback by her words, only now realizing the problem.
Mr. and Mrs. Feng had five children in total: four daughters and one son. The first four daughters were all “money-losing goods” in Mr. Feng’s words.
Feng Yuzhen was the third. Thanks to her limp, her other sisters, including the fourth, had all been betrothed by the time they were twelve or thirteen.
In her previous life, after Cui Ze’s death, Mr. Feng had repeatedly brought his son to their door, clamoring for her to be returned, and had even caused a scene at the ancestral hall.
The main residence had over a dozen people, with seven or eight able-bodied men alone. Each time, Mr. Feng had been forced to back down due to the Cui clan’s numbers and influence. Later, realizing he probably wouldn’t get his daughter back and couldn’t sell her for money, he had given up completely and cut off all contact.
But in this life, she had escaped the confines of the main residence, but she had also lost its protection.
As a weak woman, she was no match for her stout and brawny father. And that brother-in-law of hers didn’t seem like the kind of person who would help her out of the goodness of his heart.
She thought of how her father had cursed and beaten her at the slightest provocation since she was a child, and how he had recently threatened that if he ever got his hands on Feng Yuzhen again, he would marry her off to the old widower for a price in rice.
She grabbed Liu Guilan’s arm and pleaded, “First Aunt, please help me…”
“I know. Two days ago, I told everyone involved in the funeral to keep their mouths shut and not let it slip that you’ve moved out.
“If your father comes to the door again, I’ll lie and say you’ve fallen ill and can’t get out of bed. But Zhen’niang, you can’t lie forever. It’ll be found out sooner or later. You need to make plans early.”
The old woman patted her hand comfortingly. Just as Feng Yuzhen was feeling most unsettled, the sound of a swaying bell and heavy panting came from behind her.
The two turned to look. A yellow ox pulling a cart was slowly approaching. Cui Jingkong was not sitting on it but was walking alongside, holding the reins. He walked up to them.
Today, he had changed into an old, dark purple robe. He was as thin as a bamboo stalk, his long, ink-black hair tied up with a wooden pin. The dark color made his features seem even more distant, almost otherworldly, except for a scratch on the side of his face that had already scabbed over.
Did he have that wound last night? Feng Yuzhen stared at him for a moment, then met his gaze in the next second and immediately lowered her head as if she had been burned.
“No wonder he could pass the scholar’s examination. He’s so thorough and reliable. An ox-cart isn’t easy to borrow! Look at my memory, I’ve completely forgotten these past few days that Zhen’niang’s leg isn’t good.”
Liu Guilan slapped her forehead. “Ah, the cart is perfect. I’ll go get you a quilt. The cotton was fluffed last autumn, it’s very warm.”
Feng Yuzhen couldn’t stop her. She watched as Liu Guilan bustled back into the house, leaving the two of them standing alone at the entrance of the ancestral hall.
“…Brother is very thoughtful,” Feng Yuzhen forced herself to say, breaking the silence. She still felt quite awkward about yesterday’s events and subconsciously tugged at her sleeve, covering her wrist.
Cui Jingkong dismissed it with a few light words. “Sister-in-law need not be so polite.”
When Liu Guilan returned with the quilt and gave Feng Yuzhen a few more words of advice, the two of them got on the cart and officially set off. Cui Jingkong sat at the front, holding the reins, while Feng Yuzhen sat obediently behind him.
She held onto the sides of the cart, curling herself into a ball to take up as little space as possible. The ox-cart was originally used for hauling firewood and hay, so it wasn’t very spacious. Even so, she did her best to maintain a distance from the person in front of her.
When they reached a bumpy section of the road, the cart jolted violently from side to side. Feng Yuzhen lost her grip, and her body pitched forward, unavoidably landing on Cui Jingkong’s back.
She immediately sprang back up like a coiled spring, stammering two apologies, “…S-sorry, I wasn’t sitting properly.”
A cool voice drifted vaguely from the front. “It’s fine.”
Only then did Feng Yuzhen sit back down, trembling slightly, and silently berated herself. This time, she gripped the sides of the cart tightly, terrified of falling onto him again.
Cui Jingkong appeared to be calmly looking straight ahead, but in a place she couldn’t see, his left hand, the one with the prayer beads, was trembling pathologically. He couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from stretching into a fanatical grin.
I was right.
The lingering pain from last night had indeed vanished the moment the soft female body pressed against him.
He looked down at the string of amber prayer beads coiled around his wrist. In an instant, the smile vanished from his handsome face, replaced by a grim, almost terrifying expression. But it quickly returned to one of serene indifference.
*
The sun was high in the sky when the ox-cart stopped.
Although Feng Yuzhen had already seen it with Cui Jingkong in the smoke, she was still shocked by the dilapidated state of the brick house before her.
The brick house had been abandoned for a long time and was in ruins. Weeds poked out sparsely from the cracks in the walls. It looked as if a gust of wind could blow it down.
According to the village elders, it was nearly seventy years old, dating back to the reign of the emperor before the last one.
Someone had died inside about thirty years ago, and the original family had moved away shortly after. It had been deserted ever since, until Cui Jingkong, with nowhere else to go after being cast out of the temple, moved in.
Pushing open the rickety wooden door, a musty smell filled her nostrils. The inside of the house was surprisingly bright, one could say it was lit from all four sides. Feng Yuzhen looked up and saw that half a tile was missing from the roof. A beam of light shone through the gap, and the dust that had been stirred up danced in the light.
The narrow main room only had two low stools. It was six or seven steps from one end to the other. The east room was the kitchen, its stove covered in a thick layer of dust. To the west, there was only one side room.
“I must have made a poor showing, Sister-in-law. I was staying at my teacher’s house before, and I haven’t been back for half a year.”
Cui Jingkong saw her coughing several times from the dust, her face red. He said kindly, “Why don’t you go outside for some fresh air, Sister-in-law? I’ll clean up first.”
How could Feng Yuzhen dare to let him work while she rested? She immediately shook her head.
They made do with the flatbread and water they had brought from the main residence, then rolled up their sleeves and started cleaning. When she pushed open the door to the side room, she froze in place.
The space in the side room was even more cramped. A simple elm wood bed and a desk filled it to the brim. Half a candle stood on the desk.
The main point was, there was only one bedroom, and in that room, there was only one bed.
Just as she was at a loss, a warm breath tickled the back of her ear. She shivered and quickly turned her head. Her brother-in-law was standing right behind her.
The distance between them was no more than a hand’s breadth. Cui Jingkong’s eyes were slightly lowered, locked firmly on her upturned, unguarded face, like a snake’s vertical pupils before it strikes.
“Sister-in-law, what’s wrong?”