These were all questions Chen Jue wanted to understand clearly, but over the past few days, he had only interacted with Uncle Chen’s family, with no one else providing material for him to study.
He needed more information to understand why men in this world could give birth, so that he could feel more confident when it was his turn to deliver.
This would have to be taken slowly; there was no need to rush.
Chen Jue withdrew his scrutinizing gaze from Zhou Qingzhu and turned his attention to Uncle Liu’s house.
Like his own home, this courtyard was so simple that one could take it all in at a glance, leaving little to admire. Uncle Liu set down his vegetable basket, patted his little granddaughter’s head, and headed inside—likely to check on Zhou Qingshan.
Chen Jue followed him, walking toward the inner room.
Uncle Liu smiled and said to him, “No need to help, no need to help. You can sit outside. I’ll just go in and see Dashan.”
Chen Jue replied, “I’ll go in and see him too.”
Uncle Liu paused in his steps. “…This… you want to see Dashan? He… he’s still lying in bed and hasn’t tidied up yet. It’s not really appropriate for you to see him.”
Uncle Liu spoke with some hesitation, as he hadn’t anticipated this situation. In the past, Chen Jue rarely interacted with people in the village, let alone with men, especially since he was a Ger who had only recently married.
Seeing Uncle Liu’s hesitant expression and hearing his words, Chen Jue finally understood.
So, in this ancient world, not only were there strict boundaries between men and women, but even Gers had to be kept at a distance.
For a moment, Chen Jue didn’t know what to say.
He hadn’t considered it. He was a man, and a doctor at that.
In the past, he had not only performed surgeries on patients but had also dissected countless human bodies during his studies.
It wasn’t just about seeing people in a state of undress; he could sketch every part of the human body with his eyes closed. Besides, his outward appearance was that of a man too.
Chen Jue kept these thoughts to himself, not wanting to put Uncle Liu in an awkward position. Every world had its own rules.
So he simply said, “Then I’ll stay here. I have a few questions I’d like to ask Brother Qingshan.”
Uncle Liu assumed he was here to ask about Huo Lin and nodded. “Alright, you can ask him. When I asked him earlier, he didn’t respond. I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Uncle Liu entered the room. “Dashan, your Brother Dalin’s husband has come to see you.”
After entering the room, Uncle Liu spoke with deliberate cheerfulness, but there was no response from inside.
The mud-walled house wasn’t soundproof, but Chen Jue didn’t hear Zhou Qingshan make any reply. He guessed that Zhou Qingshan probably hadn’t even moved.
As he suspected, Zhou Qingshan, lying in the farthest corner of the kang inside the room, remained motionless, as if completely uninterested in the outside world. He even pulled the quilt up a little higher, as if bothered by the noise.
It was already April, and the weather was starting to get warm, yet he was still covering himself tightly. Uncle Liu felt a pang of sadness in his heart, but he forced himself to stay cheerful and continued with a smile, “Qingshan, Shan, tell Brother Jue when Dalin will be back. Brother Jue has been waiting day and night. Weren’t you two together when you left? You’ve returned, so why hasn’t Dalin come back yet?”
Chen Jue had no reaction to Uncle Liu’s words. He hadn’t been waiting day and night. If Uncle Liu hadn’t brought up Huo Lin, he wouldn’t have even thought of him. Still, he didn’t object. Perhaps the original host had been waiting day and night, so it wouldn’t hurt to listen.
Most importantly, he needed to find a way to get a reaction out of Zhou Qingshan.
Uncle Liu repeated several more times: "Da Linzi, that's Huo Lin from the family above ours. Old Man Huo taught you hunting and archery, have you forgotten?"
Zhou Qingshan finally reacted, but the reaction was far too intense.
Chen Jue could hear it from the outer room.
Zhou Qingshan let out a sharp, piercing wail, followed by a bowl flying toward the doorway.
Chen Jue stood at the entrance, watching as Zhou Qingshan clutched his head and shouted loudly, "I don't know! I don't know! I didn't see him—no, I saw him, I saw him!"
He was rambling incoherently. Uncle Liu seemed accustomed to this state of his. His outstretched hand hovered behind Zhou Qingshan, not daring to rest on him, nor able to, because Zhou Qingshan had already hastily pulled the blanket over his head.
The expression on Uncle Liu's face was heartbreaking—a forced smile masking suppressed grief.
Anyone who saw Zhou Qingshan like this would feel the same.
He was emaciated, his body exposed outside the blanket almost skeletal. With the blanket covering his head, his broken leg was also visible, wrapped in layers of coarse cloth that had long lost its original color, stained with blood.
It likely hadn't been changed in a long time. In Zhou Qingshan's current state, he probably wouldn't let anyone near him, making it impossible to change the bandages.
The other leg could bend, seemingly fine, and he was able to sit upright, indicating no issues above the waist.
It was his mental state that was concerning.
Chen Jue watched as he clutched the blanket, his hands trembling spasmodically. He tugged fiercely at the blanket over his head, as if it still wasn't safe enough.
He continued muttering, "Da Lin, I didn't see him! No, I saw him! He's dead! He's dead!"
Uncle Liu gasped, disregarding the blanket, and reached out to pull it away, urgently asking, "What?! What did you say?! What happened to Da Lin? Hurry up and tell me! Weren't you two together when you left, together when you went… went for corvée labor? How could he… how could he…"
Uncle Liu trembled, unable to utter the word "dead."
Chen Jue hadn't expected this either. Just moments ago, he had been thinking that if Huo Lin returned, he would discuss the child's custody with him. To avoid trouble, he had even planned to leave the village early to avoid encountering Huo Lin. Who would have thought that he… was dead?
Uncle Chen was already frantic, still tugging at Zhou Qingshan's blanket, demanding an explanation.
Chen Jue stepped forward to stop him, saying, "Uncle, let Brother Qingshan calm down for a moment. He'll speak when he's ready. Let him take his time. I have time to wait, and I believe him."
Because he was no longer the original owner, Chen Jue felt little grief over Huo Lin's death, so his voice sounded unusually calm, almost cold.
Perhaps because of this, Zhou Qingshan slowly removed the blanket from his head, lifting his pale face, though his eyes remained unfocused and vacant.
He was finally able to speak, but his words were flat and devoid of emotion.
"I'm telling you, two and a half months ago, I went with Big Lin. We didn't know we were going to be soldiers—we thought we were going to repair roads and dig ditches. The fifty or so people from our village were all grouped together, and we thought it was great, that we could look out for each other. Who knew that after we got there, they gathered us in a military camp, and that very afternoon, they started training us. After half a month of training, they gave us some old, worn-out weapons and sent us to the battlefield."
Uncle Liu's hands trembled uncontrollably. "You weren't going to dig ditches, but to fight… No wonder, no wonder your leg…"
He didn't finish, and Zhou Qingshan didn't pay attention to his words, continuing on his own.
"Shitou and Tiezhu were assigned as kitchen soldiers, cooking for the troops. Huo Lin and I, because we knew how to shoot arrows, were prioritized and sent to the front lines to fight the Northwestern Tatars. The general made those of us who were prioritized the vanguard…"
He paused slightly here, his fingers trembling unconsciously, making his voice shake. "I… I didn't dare go forward. They were Northwestern Tatars, with such gleaming swords—curved, long, one swing taking a head…
I couldn't draw my bow. I could usually hit wild wolves, but that time, my arrows kept missing. Those people were even more terrifying than wolves…
Some tried to run, and the general beheaded them. One was from Liujiazhuang, the son of the butcher next to my brother-in-law's house. His head just fell to the ground, steaming and rolling… I was so scared I could barely walk. The general said if we didn't advance, we'd all die…"
Zhou Qingshan closed his eyes. "Right then, Huo Lin shouted, 'I'll go!' and charged forward. I didn't stop him…
After that, I followed him and charged too. He went into a frenzy, and so did I."
He waved his trembling hands wildly, as if still swinging a sword, his tone sharpening. "The blade was chipped at some point—it wasn't good to begin with, not as sharp as the enemy's. Their swords were too fast. With one swing, Huo Lin fell. He fell right in front of me."
He repeated, "He fell. The sword struck his back—so long, so sharp. He fell like wheat. Those people quickly charged forward, wave after wave. I wanted to run up and see him, but my leg… was also cut off.
I don't know who it was, but like that sword, gleaming bright. I just saw a flash of white light, and then I fell with a thud… It hurt so much. I clutched my leg, rolling on the ground… I don't know how long I rolled. When I woke up again, I was back in the military camp…"
His eyes were vacant, his face twitching spasmodically. As he kept repeating those words, drool trickled from the corner of his mouth without him even noticing.
He was trapped in the terror of the battlefield, unable to escape.
PTSD—post-traumatic stress disorder.
Just as he had guessed.
Author's Note:
None.