Chapter 2
Edward Quan ·
7
But on my fourth visit to that courtyard, Trần Tông Nguyệt stood at the gate and, for the first time, refused to let me in.
He lowered his eyes without looking at me.
“It’s late. It wouldn’t be appropriate to invite you in.”
“Don’t come again. You might catch whatever I have.”
I stood below the steps and looked up at him.
“I’m not leaving.”
His lips pressed together, but he still wouldn’t meet my eyes.
The cold wind cut through my thin coat. I began coughing, yet stubbornly stayed where I was.
After a few minutes, perhaps his resolve finally softened. He looked up at me, then stepped aside to let me in.
His room was as warm as spring.
On the desk lay his brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, along with a half-finished copy of a sutra.
The little humidifier I had brought him on an earlier visit stood there too.
He ignored me and returned to his copying.
The red coral beads wound several times around his wrist made him look both austere and strangely alluring.
I couldn’t resist reaching out to touch them.
He paused but didn’t move away.
“Why do you wear these?”
“I was sickly as a child. An elder went to a temple to pray for them for me.”
“To ward off misfortune and keep you safe and healthy?”
“For peace of mind.”
He tried to withdraw his hand, but I caught the beads.
“Has another woman ever touched them?”
After a moment’s silence, he shook his head.
“No.”
“Then has another woman ever… touched you?”
His dark eyes widened.
A few seconds later, he turned away from my gaze.
His ears were bright red, and his voice had grown huskier.
“…No.”
8
A soft couch stood behind his writing desk, convenient for an afternoon nap.
Now Trần Tông Nguyệt lay beneath me on it, dressed only in his pale gray Chinese-style loungewear.
The hands accustomed to holding a brush were resting at my waist.
Perhaps the heating was too high. My cheeks burned, and warmth slowly spread through my body.
He, by contrast, felt like warm jade, his temperature steady.
Touching him brought a comfort that reached deep into my bones.
In all my life, I had only ever had a secret crush on one boy, a transfer student I’d known in my teens.
Thinking back, he too had been thin and handsome.
Quiet, sparing with words, polite to everyone yet somehow distant.
There was something of him in Trần Tông Nguyệt.
“I hear you’re going back to Hong Kong after New Year.”
“Yes.”
“Will you come back?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Don’t. There’s nothing good here.”
I looked down at him.
“Are you fully recovered?”
“Almost.”
“I’ll give you some money. Go home and take good care of yourself.”
Slowly, I bent closer, until our breath almost mingled.
“All right?”
His gaze changed.
A chill entered those previously gentle eyes.
He moved to push me away.
I threw myself into his arms and kissed him, tears slipping down my face as I pleaded through a tightening throat.
“I’ll give you money, and you give me a child… Think of it as saving me. Just this once. Please?”
9
The red coral beads at his wrist pressed into my waist, the tops of my thighs, my chest, leaving marks of varying shades.
I cried softly, sobbing, my nails tracing thin lines of blood across his shoulders and back.
“Hứa Trăn?”
Trần Tông Nguyệt stopped, staring at me in disbelief.
“How is this…”
“Chu Cảnh Hoài has never touched me. There’s someone he loves.”
“Hứa Trăn…”
A deep tenderness welled in his eyes.
“Fortunately… I don’t love him either.”
I raised my arms and wound them around his neck again.
“I only want a child…”
He didn’t answer. He simply kissed me more deeply.
The cool beads brushed against my cheek.
A tear slipped from the corner of my eye and fell onto them.
He kissed my tears away.
Afterward, I dressed to leave.
He walked me out.
At the courtyard gate, I turned and smiled at him.
“I’ll come again tomorrow night. I’m ovulating these next few days.”
He said nothing, only lowered his head to fasten each button of my coat.
Then he wrapped my scarf around my neck himself.
“Be careful on the way back. Don’t twist your ankle.”
10
I went to him three times in a row.
On the third occasion, he suddenly said something had come up at home. He needed to return to Hong Kong early.
I was taken aback, but managed a soft smile.
“I’ll transfer the money tonight, then.”
I added, trying to sound casual, “I’ve been very happy these past few days. Even if I don’t get pregnant, I’ll pay you the full amount.”
He shook his head.
“I won’t take it.”
I said nothing more, but my mind was made up.
Whether he wanted it or not, I would give it to him.
Once the money was settled, neither of us would owe the other anything again.
11
On the day he was to return to Hong Kong, the Chu elders held a farewell dinner as a courtesy.
I wore a dark green cheongsam with Suzhou embroidery, my long hair pinned half up.
I sat beside Chu Cảnh Hoài.
Trần Tông Nguyệt happened to be directly across from me.
He never once looked at me.
For my part, I had only greeted him politely as I sat down.
Yet Chu Cảnh Hoài, who usually treated me as though I didn’t exist, behaved rather oddly that night.
Several times, I felt his gaze settle on me.
It was almost burning.
Halfway through the meal, he even served me chicken soup.
As I murmured my thanks, he leaned close to my ear.
“Trăn Trăn, why have you looked so beautiful these past two days?”
His hand settled familiarly on my shoulder, drawing me close.
Trần Tông Nguyệt’s kisses had left marks along my neck. All it would take was a lift of my hair to expose them.
I could barely remain in my seat.
Just as I was about to make a scene by standing up—
Trần Tông Nguyệt spoke.
“Cảnh Hoài.”
Perhaps my nerves were playing tricks on me.
But the instant he spoke, Chu Cảnh Hoài withdrew his hand.
He even sat up straight.
“Fourth Brother.”
I couldn’t help looking across at Trần Tông Nguyệt.
His gaze met mine.
It was the first time I had seen him formally dressed.
He seemed remote and unfamiliar, as noble as a cold moon hanging beyond reach.
And I felt all the more sordid beside him.
I lowered my eyes, unable to look again.
Yet my heart gave an inexplicable ache.
“You and your wife seem very close.”
His low voice was even, revealing nothing.
My hands tightened beneath the table.
Chu Cảnh Hoài smiled.
“Yes. Trăn Trăn is so beautiful. I like her very much.”
Trần Tông Nguyệt smiled too, though only faintly.
“You’re a fortunate man, Cảnh Hoài.”
I sat dazed, biting my lip.
Something passed through my heart like a current, sharp with pain.