Beiji

Chapter 1 (Pt. 3)

The air surrounding Wan Xue was cold and stale. His whole body hurt, inside and outside. He was lying on his stomach where he'd been tossed onto a narrow wooden bench, though he had no memory of such a thing, and every breath he took pressed his ribs against the wood beneath him. He was sure they were broken, at least some of them, and those certainly weren't his only injuries. He didn't even want to consider the lower portion of his body or what had just been done to him. Humiliated and confused, he buried his face in his arms without ever having opened his eyes to see where he was.

The man who had so ruthlessly violated him had accused him of raping his sister, and while Wan Xue had heard the word before, he'd never understood what it meant and no one had ever bothered to explain it to him. And it wasn't as if he could've simply asked someone. Was...was this what people meant by 'rape'? His face burned hot and he curled up on his side like a shrimp even though it hurt to move, as if this would somehow alleviate some of the shame or pain he couldn't seem to process. Was this what they thought he'd done to that man's sister?!

His mind still hadn't cleared when he heard a sound like a key in a lock and metal gates opening, and he curled further in on himself. More than one hushed voice reached his ears, but he couldn't make out their words, and his breathing quickened when he heard footsteps approaching him, the gate-like sound screeching through the blackness of his closed eyes once more as if a door had previously opened and was now closed again.

When the sound of the soft footsteps ceased, he could tell that the owner of the feet was standing nearby, just above him, and his whole body started to shake. His hands were still bound with chains, and though he had no desire to repeat his recent experiences, his body was in no shape to fight back if that was this person's intent. Maybe feigning death would have been better, but the trembling in his body was bound to give him away.

A stifled sob shocked him enough that he withdrew his hands from his face and opened his eyes for the first time since waking. The room was, perhaps, lighter than when he had his eyes closed, but there was only a small lantern outside the prison cell he found himself in, and another in the hand of the woman standing next to him, so it did not take his eyes long to adjust, and he only blinked a few times before focusing on the face looking down at him.

Forgetting his injuries, he flinched backwards, only to gasp, his face contorting into a grimace. He followed through on his action all the same, scrambling to the other side of the bench and not stopping until he was sitting up and his back was against the rough stone wall of the prison cell. This was the woman who had accused him! It was him, she had said before leaving the room in tears, but he knew for a fact that he had never seen her before, let alone done...that to her. His whole body began to tremble violently, but he could not think what possible reason anyone would have to accuse him of such a crime when they had never even met. What malice did she hold towards him, a stranger?

There were tears on her face, matching the dried stains on his own that mixed with his own blood from his nose, which had finally stopped bleeding sometime while he was unconscious. When she abruptly raised her hand, he flinched back against the wall, eyes closed, face turned in expectation of a blow that never landed.

"No, no," she said suddenly. "I'm not – I'm not here to hurt you." She seemed to be struggling with her words, but he still didn't open his eyes. Ashamed at his own cowardice, he felt a tear leak past his eyelid and run down his cheek.

A hand against his skin finally made him open his eyes as he jerked away from the touch, but with nowhere to go, his head merely smashed into the wall behind him and he exhaled in pain. The woman had already retracted her hand from where she'd placed her fingers beneath his nose, the tips of them coming away red with his blood, almost as though she had been checking to see if it was still bleeding. She didn't shy away from the blood staining her fingertips, merely looking away from it and back up to him with an expression of pity on her face.

Even crying, she was pretty, and she looked gentle enough, as had been the touch of her fingers. But he couldn't simply forget that it was her words that had put him here, that had led to his current state.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I never – I didn't think he'd – I never intended..." She didn't finish any of her sentences, merely staring at him with a complicated expression. "I didn't come here to hurt you," she said after a moment's silence. "I – I heard some of what happened, and I..." She looked down at her hands, one of which was holding several items – medicines, cloths, bandages. Wan Xue saw a small wooden bucket with water that she had placed on the floor near her lantern.

She withdrew a small key from a pocket in her clothing and started to reach toward him again, but hesitated. "Will you...allow me?" she asked.

He didn't respond, but when she approached him carefully, he allowed her to unlock the chains on his hands and remove them. For all her reassurances that she would not hurt him, she didn't seem concerned that he would hurt her. He could've – well, maybe, given the state he was in. But he'd never intentionally hurt anyone, let alone a woman. Her hands were gentle as she touched each of his wrists, but the chains had not been overly tight and he hadn't worn them long.

There were no noticeable bruises on his wrists, but she asked anyway, "Does this hurt?"

Wan Xue shook his head, but the woman seemed to have anticipated this, as if she was merely trying to familiarize him with her touch before her next actions. Wetting a cloth in the water she had brought with her, she brought it to his face and began wiping away the blood.

"Close your eyes," she said, and he obeyed, allowing her to wipe his face clean of tears and blood, the water unexpectedly warm against the coolness of his skin. When she was finished, she rinsed the cloth in the water, red swirling out and away from it, mixing with the otherwise clear liquid, and then she wrung it out and set it to the side.

As she reached out again, he realized her intentions and quickly raised his hands to hold onto the front of his clothing near his neck. It was embarrassing enough that everyone else around was more elaborately dressed, and him in nothing more than a thin shirt and pants he'd been wearing to do work on the farm, but he couldn't imagine if even those were to be removed now.

"You can take it off yourself if you want," she said, "but you'd have to move less if I do it. It won't cause you as much pain that way," she added as explanation. Not removing it at all didn't seem to be an option. As if reading his mind, she said, "I only want to apply medicinal salve to your injuries. My brother is an intense person, and I know how strong he is. There's no way you don't have bruises at the very least, if not broken bones."

Hesitantly, he lowered his hands, not looking her in the eye, and she took this as his consent. She pulled off his shirt and he cooperated this time, leaving his chest bare. No one had ever seen him unclothed before...before today. He kept his eyes downcast as her hands perused the front of his chest, but then he ended up watching her hands touch his skin, so he turned his head to the side instead and stared at one of the walls.