Xiao Erlang ground his teeth together so hard his jaw ached. Large beads of sweat broke out along his hairline, and his parched lips trembled uncontrollably.
“Uncle Li, stop the cart,” Shen Li commanded.
She stepped forward and pressed her fingers to Erlang’s wrist. His pulse hadn’t changed significantly, so why was his face a mask of such intense agony?
Uncle Li pulled the ox to a halt and turned around. When he saw the state Erlang was in, he jumped down from the driver’s seat in a panic. Auntie Li followed suit, and the three of them stood huddled around the cart.
“Erlang! Where does it hurt, son?” Auntie Li asked.
She knew the question was futile, but seeing the boy in such pain left her and her husband frantic. Uncle Li reached out as if to check on him, then pulled his hand back, terrified his rough, calloused touch would only make things worse.
“Uncle Li, Brother is bleeding. He’s bleeding so much from his back,” Sanlang whispered. He bit his lip hard, his small face a mask of fierce determination as he fought to keep his tears from falling.
Brother is hurting, he told himself. I can’t be a crybaby. I’m a man; I have to protect him!
“Bleeding! Oh, heavens… what do we do? Erlang’s wife, look at this…” Auntie Li looked to Shen Li, completely at a loss.
Shen Li’s brow knit together. She gently gripped Erlang’s torso and eased him onto his side. Tugging aside his coarse hemp tunic, she went rigid at the sight of his lower back.
Uncle Li and Auntie Li took one look and immediately turned away, their hearts aching with pity. Sanlang couldn’t hold it back anymore; a soft, broken sob escaped him.
A massive pressure sore had formed over Erlang’s tailbone. The skin had completely broken down, weeping fluid and stained with filth. The edges were angry and red, and in the center, the flesh had already begun to rot.
“How could it come to this!” Auntie Li cried, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “That murderous Madam Cao! Such a good boy, and she’s let him rot away like this. I just don’t know…”
She looked at her husband. Uncle Li let out a heavy, ragged sigh and shook his head in grim silence.
Shen Li carefully rearranged Erlang’s clothes to cover the wound.
“Let’s move, Uncle Li. We need to get to the old house as quickly as possible,” she said. Her voice was flat, her expression entirely devoid of emotion.
Uncle Li stole a glance at her and shook his head. She’s just a bought wife after all, he thought. She doesn’t know how to truly care for another soul. To have such a massive wound and be subjected to the jarring of a cart—the pain must be unimaginable.
Auntie Li went quiet as well. She gave Erlang a look of pure sorrow before turning back to climb onto the cart. If the boy’s own wife didn’t seem to care, what right did they have to interfere?
To their surprise, Shen Li hopped onto the cart a second later.
She eased Erlang up, sliding her arm around his shoulders and pulling his back against her chest. She held him exactly as one would hold a small child, ensuring his lower back remained suspended in the air, touching nothing.
Sanlang’s mouth hung open as he stared at her. The sight of Shen Li in this position was a shock to his system.
The bad woman… she doesn’t think Brother is stinking anymore?
Only yesterday, she had beaten and cursed his brother, screaming that the smell of him made her sick. And today, she was willing to hold him like this on a moving cart?
“Does that feel a bit better?” Shen Li whispered, looking down at the man in her arms.
Erlang was just as stunned as the others. He looked up at her, dazed, and after a long moment, he gave a small, slow nod.
The corners of Shen Li’s mouth quirked upward. “Good. Let’s go then, Uncle Li.”
Uncle and Auntie Li, much like Sanlang, had forgotten to breathe. It took a moment for Uncle Li to find his voice. “Right! Yes! Moving! We’re moving!”
Even as he turned back to the ox, he couldn’t resist stealing one more disbelieving glance at Shen Li. He watched as she looked down, her fingers gently adjusting the fabric of Erlang’s tunic to make sure it didn’t rub against the sore.
Uncle Li looked up at the sky. Has the Heavens finally opened its eyes? Has Erlang’s wife actually turned good? He offered a silent prayer of gratitude to the clouds above.
As the cart continued its rhythmic swaying, Erlang felt the searing pain in his back begin to dull. He looked up, studying Shen Li’s face.
It was the same face—the same eyes and brow of the madwoman from yesterday—but today, she looked softer. Her gaze was still distant, almost indifferent. She looked like the type of person who wouldn’t be bothered if the world ended tomorrow, but also like the type who could solve any problem that crossed her path.
He noticed tiny beads of sweat forming on the bridge of her small nose.
For a fleeting second, a pang of guilt stirred in his heart. Then, he crushed it. No. This woman was vicious. Only yesterday she had tormented him, wishing he would hurry up and die. How could she change so much in a few hours?
She has an endgame, he told himself. She must.
Was she taking him away just to sell him to a brothel after all? Or… was her true target Sanlang?