Chapter 68 - Walking practice

Chapter 68: Chapter 68 - Walking practice

Mao Mao eventually agreed to take Jua Gu to the cemetery, but absolutely refused to take him that day.

Jua Gu wasn’t pleased, but after discovering that Mao Mao had apparently developed a stubborn streak sometime during the last twenty years, he reluctantly gave in. He had only been awake for two days, could barely sit upright for long without exhausting himself, and still needed help with almost everything. Mao Mao’s argument was annoyingly reasonable: one more day wasn’t going to make a difference, and if Jua Gu wanted to leave the hospital tomorrow, then he needed to cooperate with the doctors today.

So instead of visiting a cemetery to absorb demonic energy, Jua Gu found himself being wheeled toward the rehabilitation department that afternoon.

A blanket covered his legs while Mao Mao pushed the wheelchair from behind. The hospital corridors were bright and busy, nurses and patients occasionally passing them as they made their way toward the elevators. After spending so much time inside the same hospital room, even this small trip felt strangely refreshing. Jua Gu looked around with mild interest until Mao Mao’s hand appeared beside him to pull the blanket back over his knee when it began slipping.

For some reason, that made Jua Gu glance back at him.

From this angle, Mao Mao seemed even taller.

Jua Gu had obviously noticed that the kid had grown, but he hadn’t really taken the time to look at him properly. Since waking, he had mostly seen Mao Mao sitting beside his bed, leaning over him or hovering nearby. Now, with Mao Mao walking at his full height behind the wheelchair, the difference between the boy in Jua Gu’s memories and the man standing there became impossible to ignore.

The skinny child he remembered was completely gone. Mao Mao’s shoulders had grown broad beneath his shirt, and the short sleeves revealed arms that were far more muscular than Jua Gu expected. Even his posture had changed. There was a steadiness to him now, an easy confidence in the way he moved that hadn’t existed when he was younger.

Mao Mao caught him staring. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You’ve been looking at me for a while."

"I was thinking."

A smile immediately tugged at Mao Mao’s mouth. "About me?"

Jua Gu rolled his eyes and faced forward again. "You’re still annoying."

Mao Mao laughed behind him, clearly taking that as confirmation.

Jua Gu nevertheless glanced back once more. He had to admit the kid had grown up well. Very well, actually. Compared to the twig-like body Mao Mao used to have, this was a considerable improvement. He obviously exercised regularly; those arms weren’t something a person developed by sitting around all day.

The thought inevitably made Jua Gu look down at himself.

His own wrist seemed almost pitifully thin. He raised one arm slightly and watched the weak muscles strain from the simple movement, his mouth flattening with displeasure.

I used to have a strong body too.

In his previous life, he had been able to fight, run and endure injuries that would probably make this current body collapse on the spot. Now lifting his own arm felt like an achievement.

How humiliating.

As though he knew exactly what Jua Gu was thinking, Mao Mao rested one hand briefly on his shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. He didn’t offer any hollow reassurance or tell him that everything would be fine. He simply left his hand there for a moment before continuing to push the wheelchair.

Jua Gu noticed.

He didn’t tell him to move it.

The rehabilitation room was quieter than the main hospital. Exercise mats covered one section of the floor, while various pieces of equipment were arranged neatly along the walls. Near the center stood two parallel handrails with a narrow walking space between them. The physical therapist explained that they weren’t attempting anything ambitious today. They first needed to determine how much weight Jua Gu could support and how responsive his muscles were before deciding how quickly they could progress.

It sounded simple enough.

It wasn’t.

The moment Mao Mao helped him out of the wheelchair and his feet touched the floor, Jua Gu’s legs began trembling.

He had expected weakness. He had not expected the disturbing sensation of his own body simply refusing to obey him. His knees buckled almost immediately, and before he could even react, Mao Mao’s arm had already caught him securely around the waist.

"Easy."

Jua Gu’s jaw tightened. "I’m fine."

Mao Mao wisely chose not to point out that nearly collapsing within seconds did not qualify as being fine. He merely adjusted his grip and helped Jua Gu toward the parallel bars.

Jua Gu wrapped both hands around the rails and attempted to support himself. His arms started shaking almost immediately. He tightened his grip stubbornly, only for the trembling to worsen until the therapist finally told him not to force it. His upper body simply wasn’t strong enough yet to support his full weight.

Jua Gu hated hearing that.

Before he could make another attempt, warmth pressed against his back as Mao Mao stepped in behind him. One strong arm wrapped securely around Jua Gu’s waist while his other hand came over Jua Gu’s right hand on the rail, taking enough of his weight that the strain on his arms immediately eased.

"Lean on me," Mao Mao said quietly.

Jua Gu stiffened at first, mostly because the position felt strange. Mao Mao was standing almost flush behind him, his chest brushing Jua Gu’s back whenever he swayed. The arm around his middle felt ridiculously secure, and for the first time Jua Gu became properly aware of how much larger Mao Mao had become.

His gaze dropped toward the hand spread across his waist.

It practically covered his entire side.

Jua Gu stared at it for a few seconds. Had Mao Mao’s hands always been that big?

Definitely not.

He remembered a scrawny little hand clutching his sleeve and refusing to let go whenever Mao Mao wanted his attention. That memory made the large hand currently holding his waist seem even stranger.

Curious, Jua Gu lifted his left hand from the rail.

Mao Mao immediately tightened his hold. "Careful, Jua-ge."

Instead of returning his hand to the bar, Jua Gu placed it over Mao Mao’s.

The body behind him went completely rigid.

Jua Gu didn’t notice at first. He was too busy comparing their hands. Mao Mao’s fingers were longer than his, the joints stronger and his palm broad enough that Jua Gu’s hand looked strangely small resting over it. He curiously touched one of Mao Mao’s fingers, tracing along it as he compared the length.

Behind him, Mao Mao seemed to stop breathing.

"What is it, Jua-ge?"

"Nothing. You have really big hands."

Jua Gu chuckled as he turned his head to look at him, only to stop when he saw Mao Mao’s face.

The man was red.

Not slightly flushed. Red all the way to the tips of his ears.

Jua Gu stared at him in confusion. "What’s wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

Mao Mao looked away so quickly that Jua Gu’s eyebrows rose. He glanced down at their hands, then back at Mao Mao’s burning face, but understanding failed to arrive.

"You’re blushing."

"I’m not."

"You are."

"Jua-ge," Mao Mao muttered, sounding genuinely tormented now. "Concentrate on walking."

Jua Gu couldn’t help it. He laughed.

It came out more freely than he expected, enough that even the therapist smiled before politely pretending to adjust something nearby. Mao Mao looked thoroughly embarrassed, which only made the situation funnier.

Twenty years had apparently transformed Mao Mao into a tall, muscular man who could speak coldly enough over the phone to make Jua Gu wonder who he had become, but touching his hand for a few seconds still turned him into a tomato.

Some things really hadn’t changed.

"All right, all right." Jua Gu finally took pity on him and returned his hand to the rail. "Let’s walk."

Mao Mao breathed out behind him and adjusted his arm around Jua Gu’s waist. The therapist instructed Jua Gu to shift his weight carefully onto his right foot before trying to move the other.

The moment he did, his leg began trembling violently.

Jua Gu’s amusement disappeared.

A deep ache spread through his thigh, followed by the frightening weakness of muscles that simply couldn’t support what he was asking of them. His fingers tightened around the rail.

Walking had once been thoughtless. One foot moved, then the other. He had never needed to consider how his weight shifted or whether his knee would remain beneath him. Now every tiny movement demanded his full concentration.

Frustration tightened his chest.

Mao Mao must have felt the change in him because his voice softened near Jua Gu’s ear. "You’re doing well."

"I haven’t even taken a step."

"Then take one."

There was no pity in his voice, only a simple confidence that made Jua Gu look down at his feet again.

He shifted forward.

His left foot dragged at first. Jua Gu gritted his teeth and tried again, forcing his unresponsive muscles to cooperate. This time his foot moved forward.

Barely half a step.

But it moved.

Mao Mao’s arm tightened around him immediately. "See?"

The ridiculous happiness in his voice made some of Jua Gu’s frustration disappear. "You sound like I crossed a mountain."

"Yesterday you couldn’t stand."

Jua Gu paused.

That was true.

He looked down at his foot for another moment before taking a slow breath. "Another."

They continued like that, one careful movement at a time. Mao Mao supported most of his weight while Jua Gu concentrated on making his legs obey. The therapist corrected his posture whenever necessary, but otherwise allowed him to find his own rhythm.

One step.

A short rest.

Then another.

His legs shook harder each time, and sweat slowly gathered along his forehead despite the cool room. By the fourth step, his knee suddenly gave way beneath him.

Jua Gu’s stomach dropped.

He never reached the floor.

Mao Mao caught him immediately, both arms wrapping securely around his waist and pulling him backward against his chest.

"I’ve got you."

Jua Gu remained there for several seconds, breathing harder than he wanted to admit. His legs were trembling badly now, but Mao Mao held him so securely that there was no chance of falling.

The embarrassment came a moment later.

"Don’t say anything."

A smile entered Mao Mao’s voice. "I wasn’t going to."

"You were thinking something."

"I was thinking Jua-ge did really well."

Jua Gu glanced over his shoulder.

There was no teasing on Mao Mao’s face and, more importantly, no pity. He simply looked ridiculously proud of him.

Jua Gu looked away before Mao Mao could notice the small smile tugging at his mouth.

"Again."

The therapist suggested that he rest, but Jua Gu wasn’t ready yet. Surprisingly, Mao Mao didn’t argue. He simply adjusted his hold and helped him back into position.

"All right."

They started over.

This time, when Mao Mao’s palm settled firmly against his waist, Jua Gu barely noticed the closeness. He had already begun trusting that arm around him. Whenever his legs wavered, Mao Mao compensated before he could fall. Whenever Jua Gu’s arms became too weak, Mao Mao silently took more of his weight.

By the end of the session, Jua Gu managed seven steps before his body finally refused to cooperate any longer.

Mao Mao helped him back into the wheelchair, and the instant Jua Gu sat down, exhaustion washed over him so completely that he let his head fall against the backrest. His legs felt like they belonged to someone else.

Mao Mao crouched in front of him and pulled the blanket back over his knees.

"Tired?"

Jua Gu opened one eye and gave him a look.

Mao Mao smiled and tucked the blanket around his legs without further comment.

Jua Gu watched him quietly.

The grown man kneeling in front of him looked nothing like the skinny child in his memories. His shoulders were broader, his hands larger, his features sharper. Yet when Mao Mao finished arranging the blanket and looked up at him, waiting almost expectantly, Jua Gu suddenly saw that child again.

Without thinking, he reached out and ruffled Mao Mao’s hair.

Mao Mao froze.

"You did well too."

For a moment, Mao Mao simply stared at him. Then his entire face lit up so brightly that Jua Gu immediately knew he had made a mistake.

"Really?"

"You only held me up."

"I held you very well."

Jua Gu snorted.

Mao Mao stood and moved behind the wheelchair, still absurdly pleased by the praise.

As they left the rehabilitation room, Jua Gu rested his head against the chair and closed his eyes. His body hurt, his legs were almost useless, and tomorrow he would probably have to suffer through the same thing again. Yet strangely, the weakness didn’t feel quite as unbearable as it had that morning.

A familiar hand appeared beside him and fixed the corner of his blanket when it slipped again.

Jua Gu opened his eyes and looked at it.

The same ridiculously large hand he’d been examining earlier.

His lips curved slightly before he looked away.

Perhaps rehabilitation wouldn’t be completely terrible after all.