Chapter 54 - Rui to the rescue

Chapter 54: Chapter 54 - Rui to the rescue

The silence lasted long enough for Ying Rui to glance down at his phone again.

The feed hadn’t stopped. Mo Yuxin was still standing beside the bed, staring at Mao Mao, while the boy pressed close to Jua’s chest. Through the speaker, Ying Rui could hear his son’s uneven breathing.

He was almost home. He checked the road ahead and pressed harder on the accelerator.

Mo Yuxin’s lips parted, but nothing came out at first. She looked at her son as though she was waiting for him to take back what he had said. When he only tucked himself closer to Jua, her face crumpled.

"You..." Her voice shook. "You think that? You think I would—"

Mao Mao’s fingers tightened in Jua’s shirt.

Her gaze dropped to his hands. Something in her expression changed.

"You."

She reached for him before Jua could move away, caught his upper arm, and pulled.

Mao Mao cried out. His grip slipped from Jua’s shirt, and Jua leaned forward to catch him, but Mo Yuxin had already dragged him to the edge of the mattress.

"Come here! Come to your mother! Since apparently you’ve forgotten who she is!"

"Wait, his foot—"

Jua didn’t get to finish.

The blanket had wound around Mao Mao’s ankle. As Mo Yuxin pulled again, he tried to put his other foot down, found no balance, and fell beside the bed.

His knee struck the floor. His elbow caught the wooden frame on the way down.

For a moment, he couldn’t even cry properly. His mouth opened, his face screwed up, and then a sharp little sound escaped him.

Ying Rui heard it through the phone.

He turned into the driveway too fast, stopped the car, and left the engine running.

Inside the room, Jua was already getting off the bed.

"Mao Mao."

He reached toward the boy’s elbow, trying to see where he had hit it, but Mo Yuxin still hadn’t released his arm. She pulled him upright before he could get his feet beneath him.

"Stop crying. Stand up."

Mao Mao tried. His injured knee bent as soon as he put weight on it, and he made another small, frightened sound.

Jua caught his free hand.

"Let him get up himself. You’re hurting him."

Mo Yuxin turned sharply toward him. Whether she meant to strike him or simply push him away, Jua had no time to tell. Her forearm caught him across the chest.

The breath left him. He stepped back, trying to keep his balance, and felt the edge of the rug fold beneath his bare heel.

That corner again.

He knew what was happening before he could stop it. His weight tipped backward, and he reached blindly for the bed, his fingertips brushing the blanket without finding anything solid to hold.

The door slammed open.

An arm caught him beneath the back.

Jua’s shoulders jerked as Ying Rui hauled him forward, his other hand bracing Jua’s shoulder. For a second, Jua couldn’t make sense of the coat against his cheek or the familiar face so close to his own. He had been expecting the floor.

Instead, he was standing, with his fingers clenched around Ying Rui’s sleeve.

"Steady," Ying Rui said.

Jua drew in a breath that hurt his chest and nodded, though he wasn’t sure the movement was visible.

Across from them, Mo Yuxin stood with her mouth open.

Her hand was still locked around Mao Mao’s arm. The boy had managed to get both feet under himself, but he was leaning awkwardly toward her grip, keeping his weight off the knee he had struck.

"Rui?"

Ying Rui didn’t answer immediately.

His coat was open, his hair disturbed from the run inside. He was breathing hard enough that Jua could feel the movement beside him. Yet the hand on Jua’s shoulder remained careful, holding him upright without squeezing.

Jua tried to loosen his grip on the sleeve. His fingers wouldn’t quite obey.

Ying Rui glanced at him, then looked down at his son.

There was a red mark on Mao Mao’s cheek. His knee was scraped, with a thin smear of blood just below it. He was staring at Ying Rui with wet, startled eyes, scarcely seeming to breathe.

Ying Rui looked at the fingers dug into his arm.

"Let go of him."

Mo Yuxin blinked.

"What?"

"His arm, Yuxin. Let go."

She followed his gaze. For a moment, she looked almost surprised to find her hand there.

Her fingers opened.

Mao Mao stumbled away from her and went straight to his father.

He caught Ying Rui’s trouser leg with both hands, then wrapped his arms around his thigh and buried his face against him. His injured knee dragged slightly as he moved closer, but he didn’t seem to care. He held on so tightly that the fabric pulled taut beneath his fists.

Ying Rui looked down.

He couldn’t remember the last time Mao Mao had come to him like this. Usually, the boy stayed a little distance away, watching his face before speaking, as though even a simple question needed to be asked at the right moment.

Now he was clinging to him without looking up.

Ying Rui’s free hand hovered above his head.

For years, he had found reasons to keep that small distance between them. Work, exhaustion, things he didn’t want to think about whenever he looked at his youngest son. None of those reasons seemed bearable with Mao Mao shaking against his leg.

He lowered his hand and rested it on the boy’s hair.

Mao Mao gave a sudden sob.

Ying Rui felt it against his thigh. His fingers spread over the back of his son’s head, and he kept them there, unsure what else to do, painfully aware of how little practice he had at this.

Beside him, Jua looked down at Mao Mao. He still hadn’t fully steadied himself, but his hand shifted as though he wanted to reach for the boy again.

Ying Rui kept his other arm around him.

Mo Yuxin watched them.

Her husband hadn’t looked at her since telling her to release Mao Mao. His attention remained on the two boys beside him, his hand on their son’s head, Jua supported against his side.

She had been standing in this room the whole time. Yet somehow, with Ying Rui’s arrival, she had become the person everyone was trying to get away from.

"Rui," she said, more softly. "Let me explain."

He lifted his eyes to her.

"Explain what?"

She swallowed. "You came in just now. You don’t know what—"

"Why you slapped him?"

Mo Yuxin stopped.

Ying Rui’s jaw tightened. Mao Mao’s hands were still pulling at his trousers, and he could feel the boy trying to make himself smaller against him.

"Or why you kept pulling his arm after he fell?"

"I wasn’t trying to hurt him. He wouldn’t listen, and then—"

"He just came home from the hospital."

His voice was low, but she fell quiet.

"The doctor told us to keep him calm. You were there. You heard it yourself."

Mo Yuxin glanced at Mao Mao.

He turned his face farther into Ying Rui’s leg.

Something tightened around her mouth.

"I know what the doctor said. But you didn’t hear what he said to me."

"I heard."

She looked back at him.

Ying Rui held her gaze.

"And you still hit him."

Her fingers gathered a fold of her skirt.

"I’m his mother. Am I not even allowed to discipline my own son now?"

Mao Mao flinched at the rise in her voice.

Ying Rui felt it. His palm shifted slightly over the boy’s head.

"You’re allowed to speak to him without hurting him."

"I didn’t mean for him to fall."

"He did fall."

"I know, but—"

"And earlier, when you hit him, Jua had to catch him."

At the sound of his name, Jua lowered his eyes. Ying Rui could still feel the slight trembling in his shoulder.

Mo Yuxin looked at him too, and her expression hardened.

"So that’s what this is."

Ying Rui said nothing.

"You’ve barely been home five minutes, and you’re already taking his side."

Jua’s fingers loosened on Ying Rui’s sleeve. He tried to move away, but Ying Rui’s hand remained at his shoulder, keeping him close enough to support.

"This is about what you did to Mao Mao," Ying Rui said.

"Then why are you looking at me like that? Why won’t you listen when I’m trying to explain?"

"Because I saw it, Yuxin."

She went still.

From somewhere outside the room came the distant sound of a door closing. Neither of them looked toward it.

Mo Yuxin searched his face.

"Saw what?"

"Everything."

Her gaze flicked toward the doorway, then back to him.

"You weren’t here."

"No."

"You left this morning." Her voice had become uncertain. "How could you have seen anything?"

Ying Rui took his hand from Mao Mao’s head only long enough to reach into his pocket.

The boy tightened his hold at once.

"I’m here," Ying Rui murmured, looking down at him.

Then he brought out his phone.

The screen was still lit. The camera feed showed the room they were standing in, including Mo Yuxin facing him beside the bed. In the corner, the recording indicator remained on.

Ying Rui turned the screen toward her.

Mo Yuxin stared.

For several seconds, she seemed unable to understand what she was seeing. Her eyes moved from the bed on the screen to the bed beside her, then to her own figure in the recording.

"You were watching? While... you were gone?"

Her face flushed.

She took a step back, her heel catching briefly in the hem of her skirt. She pulled it free without looking down.

"You put a camera in here?"

Ying Rui held the phone at his side again.

"I wanted to know what happens when I’m not home."

Mo Yuxin looked around the room. The quick, searching movement made Jua glance up, but Ying Rui kept his eyes on her.

"On your own wife?" she asked. "You were spying on me?"

"I was watching my son."

Her mouth opened, then closed. She looked at Mao Mao, still holding his father’s leg, and at Jua beside him.

Neither boy looked back at her.

A short, bitter laugh escaped her.

"Of course." She shook her head, her eyes returning to Ying Rui. "You come home for five days, you barely look at me, and then you put a camera in the house."

She gestured toward his phone, her hand trembling now.

"And you watch me like this?"