Chapter 16... Has Leng Zhen been self-harming?
The days spent in bed after getting sick were boring, but much more comfortable than usual.
Even on New Year's Eve, Leng Cuizhu's cold symptoms had not improved much; her limbs would still feel stiff and cold when exposed to the cold wind outside.
Fortunately, Leng Zhen understood her.
“I’m writing prescriptions for the pharmacy now, and I can earn some money every ten days. I’ll take good care of myself, so don’t worry about these things.”
Leng Zhen straightened her sleeves, wiped the bloodstains from her wrist, and turned to hand the medicine bowl to the person on the bed: "Mother, it's time to drink your medicine."
Leng Cuizhu nodded and took the medicine bowl. The medicine inside was dark and dull, with a few strands of red on the surface.
If Leng Zhen hadn't said it was medicine, she would have thought it was someone's swill.
"What's wrong?"
"Why aren't you drinking it?" Leng Zhen was adding firewood to the brazier when she saw this. She put down the fire tongs, took a spoonful of medicine, tasted it, and said, "It's not hot, you can drink it."
Since Leng Zhen had already drunk it, she naturally couldn't say anything more. Perhaps the medicine only looked scary.
She had just taken a sip of the medicine when she spat it out.
It tastes awful.
My throat felt like it had been licked by a cow; it was disgusting.
"Cough, cough... What kind of medicinal herbs are in here?"
Even if I told you, you wouldn't know.
Leng Zhen said calmly, "I personally compiled your prescription, and I personally picked the medicinal herbs. I did every step of the process myself, so there won't be any problems."
"Mother, didn't you always tell me that good medicine tastes bitter?"
He reached out and held the medicine cup, bringing it to her lips, his dark eyes gleaming like translucent amber in the sunlight.
"Why can't you even do it yourself now?"
Feeling intimidated by her gaze, Leng Cuizhu gritted her teeth and drank the medicine.
Leng Zhen took the medicine box out. She was still sitting on the bed, not yet recovered from the awful smell, and her stomach was churning.
If she had known this would happen, she shouldn't have stepped forward to stop the father and son that day. She should have waited on the side and only stopped when one of them was killed.
The crow picked a daffodil and placed it in her palm.
The scent of daffodils lifted her spirits: "Today is New Year's Eve."
The crow perched on the back of her knees, staring at her without saying a word.
“Ah…it’s the last day of the year,” she explained. “Why don’t you and Dodder go set off firecrackers tonight? It’ll be lively.”
So this person doesn't even know what Lunar New Year's Eve is... Could he be from ancient times?
“Okay,” the crow nodded. “I just saw several people from the Yin family coming home.”
Leng Cuizhu: "The Yin residence?"
As soon as he finished speaking, a voice called out from outside the window.
"Lady Leng, are you home?"
Before she could answer, Leng Zhen, who was sweeping outside, replied, "She's not here. What are you looking for her for?"
"Oh... Madam Yin asked me to deliver a New Year's gift to Lady Leng."
"She doesn't want it, you can take it back."
"……OK."
"Madam Yin invited her to the Yin residence that evening."
"She's not going."
Leng Cuizhu frowned as she listened.
She really didn't want to go to the Yin residence, nor did she want to see Madam Yin, but accepting gifts... Her family wasn't exactly wealthy, but the Yin family was; a single feather from the Yin family would be enough for her family to live on for a year.
How could I refuse a gift? It's at least a token of Madam Yin's goodwill.
Must one pretend to be indifferent and detached from worldly desires?
She used to understand how hard Yin Yuan worked to earn money, but later realized that she had been worrying too much.
Leng Cuizhu: "Help me out."
The crow replied, "No need to get up, that woman has barged in with her entourage."
"My wife!"
The young maid pushed Leng Zhen aside and rushed to her bedside: "My lady, I knew you were home! You wretched son wouldn't let me see you!"
Leng Zhen leaned against the wall, her arms crossed.
The brown robe he wore was a new garment sewn by Leng Cuizhu. It was a little too small for him, with the hem only reaching his calves. The fabric was also a bit thin, and his two slender and long calves were faintly visible.
“I didn’t say that,” he said lazily.
"Um..." Leng Cuizhu smiled at the maid, "Miss Linglan, I really can't visit today. As for the New Year's gift... what is it?"
The maid nodded: "There are many, they're all outside, madam. I'll go get them for you."
She got up and walked towards the door. As she passed the wall, she tripped and fell. Seeing that she was about to fall, she quickly grabbed Leng Zhen's arm, and the two of them fell to the ground together.
"My clothes!"
Leng Zhen picked up her torn sleeve, her eyes immediately turning red.
The maid cursed, "You're just unlucky and don't deserve to wear such nice clothes. Whose fault is that!"
Leng Cuizhu sighed, intending to offer words of comfort to Leng Zhen, but unexpectedly noticed a section of his forearm that was exposed, covered with numerous scratches.
Some had already scabbed over, while others were still fresh and bleeding.
She felt a chill run down her spine.
The dense scratches reminded her of the few strands of red silk floating on the medicine bowl.
Madam Yin prepared far more gifts than Leng Cuizhu had imagined, including gold, silver, jewels, and fine silks.
In terms of gift-giving, Yin Yuan is quite similar to Madam Yin.
Perhaps it's because people from wealthy families have no shortage of food and clothing that they wouldn't think that ordinary families don't even have enough charcoal or rice.
She took out a whole closet full of ready-made clothes and fabrics and looked at them one by one, thinking about what kind of clothes she could make.
Make a few for Leng Zhen, and two for You En. Dodder also needs a piece of cloth to gag him.
The rest can be kept in the closet for later use.
"Zhenzhen, it's getting dark. Aren't you going out to watch the fireworks?" She sat in a chair, in a good mood.
Leng Zhen sat on a low stool next to her: "I'm not going."
"What's so interesting about it? After the fireworks, the streets are filled with the awful smell of smoke."
"……All right."
She nodded as she folded the fabric, then secretly glanced at his arm.
The arm was covered by the sleeve, so the injury was not visible.
But during the day, she could clearly see those injuries.
She was absolutely not mistaken.
...Has Leng Zhen been self-harming?
From a pile of colorful fabrics, I pulled out a jet-black short shirt with a magnolia flower sewn at the waist.
“Hey, Zhenzhen, you seem to have one just like this short shirt. I remember I made it for you when you were fifteen.”
Leng Zhen turned her head away, her whole body frozen.
After a while, he replied, "Yes, I did have one, but I tried it on a few days ago and found it didn't fit... so I threw it away."
"How did you lose it? You can still wear it after some alterations."
"Once it's changed, it's not the same thing anymore."
He sat quietly to one side, poking at the charcoal fire, the warm light spilling onto his face: "Then, I'd rather not have it."
Even though Leng Zhen was sitting right next to the charcoal brazier, and even though the firelight turned him orange-yellow, Leng Cuizhu was still gloomy and sweating profusely.
Leng Zhen seems to have changed a lot.
Indeed, who can remain an ignorant and clueless child forever?
That evening, she had New Year's Eve dinner with Leng Zhen. All of the dozen or so dishes were made by Leng Zhen. The cold dishes were mostly vegetables and fruits, while the hot dishes were all meat, including pork belly, pork ribs, chicken, pigeon meat, etc. Every kind of meat was prepared very well, tender and soft, and each piece of meat was the right size.
She thought Leng Zhen didn't know how to use a kitchen knife.
The dodder also enjoyed the delicious taste.
He's quite particular about this chicken; he won't eat the ones on the ground, but insists on eating the ones in his bowl, and he even insists on drinking the chicken soup.
Leng Cuizhu fed him a few times and then ignored him.
"Mom, I'll wash the dishes. You go and rest."
"Oh, but you've been cooking all night... let me do it."
"Need not."
Leng Zhen got up to collect the dishes: "I'll go to the kitchen to brew your medicine, and I can wash the dishes while I'm at it."
Seeing that Leng Zhen insisted, she stopped trying to persuade her and took the chicken back to her room.
After the rooster had eaten and drunk its fill, it returned to its room and jumped onto the dressing table to wipe its beak and comb its feathers.
"Host, why don't you sneak off and go check on him?"
"I suspect he's doing something bad in the kitchen. I've been sleeping in the kitchen these past few days and I keep smelling a dead rat, so I can't sleep well."
"And your son always goes to the kitchen in the middle of the night without lighting a candle. I don't know what he's doing. Maybe he's stealing food."
Leng Cuizhu certainly had this intention.
But she was a little scared: "Okay, you come with me."
She tied a dog leash to the rooster and led it towards the kitchen.
At the entrance, she could hear the sounds of meat being chopped and water boiling inside.
Rooster: "Making a midnight snack?"
"...Never mind, you stay outside, I'll go in by myself."
She tied the dog leash to the osmanthus tree nearby, so the rooster could only stay under the tree and couldn't run away.
Leng Cuizhu pushed open the dilapidated wooden door to the kitchen.
There were no windows open inside, and it was pitch black except for a few holes in the roof that let in a faint moonlight, sparse and scattered, like a few strands of spider silk entwined in the room.
She couldn't see clearly, so she walked along the wall, following her memory to find where the candlestick was.
Her fingertips touched the wax, and she reached out and grabbed a hand.
It was sticky; something was stuck to her palm.
“…Leng Zhen?”
"Um."
Why don't you light candles?
"It was just destroyed."
He pulled his hand away, and Leng Cuizhu stood alone in the darkness, a chill running down her neck.
After a while, the candles were lit, and the room was finally illuminated.
By the dim candlelight, she glimpsed a corner of the stove, where an iron pot was steaming.
A pungent, fishy, and foul odor wafted towards us.
She covered her nose and moved closer, stirring the liquid in the pot with an iron spoon.
It was warm, with lingering heat still floating in the air.
"What's this?"
"Is it... the medicine I was given to drink?"
No one answered.
She lowered her head and continued stirring the medicine.
The spoon hit something extremely hard, and she fiddled with the iron spoon, trying to scoop the large piece out of the pot.
"Not ready yet."
She suddenly turned her head, but there was no one behind her. She turned back to continue searching, and caught a glimpse of a figure beside her out of the corner of her eye.
"Not ready yet."
Leng Zhen snatched the iron spoon from her hand: "Go back, I'll bring it to you later."
Are you self-harming?
"..." He lowered his eyelashes.
"Mother, are you questioning me?"
"No."
Leng Cuizhu, of course, did not believe him. She reached out and grabbed his wrist, lifted his sleeve, and only felt a layer of gauze.
"Okay... then why wrap gauze around your hand?"
Why did you do that?
"Because of you."
"You're so awful, so selfish. You have no idea how much I suffer every day."
She couldn't help but frown.
"...You're blaming me again?"
"What did I do to make you hate me so much?"
"I don't hate you at all..."
He removed the gauze from his arm, revealing a patch of bloody, mangled skin, as if a small hole had been eaten away by poisonous insects, with pools of blood pooling where flesh was missing.
Just like his eyes were filled with tears.
"I'm just returning what rightfully belongs to you."
"It was my fault that you fell into the water that day."
"So I'm returning it to you, returning all my flesh and blood to you."
"Then we're even."
So I've been drinking his blood all along?
Leng Cuizhu suppressed her nausea: "Are you crazy?"
A note from the author:
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