He wasn’t dead—he actually wasn’t dead! Could it be that he hadn’t gone up the mountain back then? Had he escaped by luck? Or had he already defected to the Japanese at that time?

Xiao Wangyun pulled Xie Chi behind him: “Sorry, she’s ignorant and has offended you, sir. Please forgive her.”

The white shirt straightened up, hands behind his back, staring directly at Xie Chi.

Jiang Shouyue heard the commotion and hurried over from backstage, greeting the white shirt: “Mr. Koike.”

The white shirt looked at her: “If it isn’t Miss Jiang.”

Xie Chi looked away, gripping her bag tightly.

What Mr. Koike? Could she have mistaken him for someone else?

But he looked so similar.

Jiang Shouyue seemed quite familiar with him: “They’re my friends. Please don’t make things difficult for them, Mr. Koike.”

“Make things difficult?” The white shirt looked back at Xie Chi. “Did I make things difficult for you?”

Xie Chi said nothing.

Another Japanese man in a white suit entered from outside. Seeing the unfamiliar faces, he asked the white shirt in broken Chinese: “Who are these people?”

“This is Miss Jiang, beloved daughter of Chairman Jiang Lian.” The white shirt introduced to Jiang Shouyue: “This is Mr. Hanai.”

“Since we’re all friends, then let’s sit down and—”

The white shirt suddenly shouted at the owner, interrupting him: “What are you standing there for? Why don’t you hurry up and have someone clean this up!” He stuck both hands in his pockets, pulled over a chair and sat down, raised his leg arrogantly and put his foot on the table in front of him.

The owner broke into a cold sweat: “Yes, yes, yes, please sit for a moment, right away.”

Jiang Shouyue nodded at Hanai, smiled and said to the white shirt: “Then Mr. Koike, please enjoy slowly. We still have matters to attend to, so we won’t disturb you. Farewell.”

The white shirt looked up, glanced at Xie Chi again, and slowly uttered two words: “No need to see you off.”

Xiao Wangyun pulled Xie Chi outside. Jiang Shouyue’s driver brought the car to the door and picked them up. After turning the corner, Jiang Shouyue breathed a sigh of relief and said to Xie Chi: “Let’s take you to your lodging first.”

Xie Chi didn’t respond.

Xiao Wangyun turned to look at her: “What’s wrong with you? You seem absent-minded.”

Xie Chi came back to her senses, gripping her own wrist tightly, head down and silent.

Jiang Shouyue gave him a look, covered Xie Chi’s hand, and asked with concern: “What’s wrong?”

Xie Chi loosened her grip: “Nothing.”

“Do you know who that was?”

“Who?”

The driver spoke up first: “Bah, a bunch of Japanese dogs! Taking the Northeast wasn’t enough—now they’re running wild here. Those Japanese dogs at Fengtai Station provoke us every few days. I think they’ll attack sooner or later. That useless Chiang Kai-shek!”

“Be careful what you say.” Jiang Shouyue patted the front seat, then said to Xie Chi: “His name is Koike Ryuji. Doesn’t that sound somewhat familiar?”

Xie Chi shook her head.

“He’s the second son of Koike Ryōichi, the younger brother of Koike Taichi.” Jiang Shouyue adjusted the car curtain. “This Koike Ryuji supposedly grew up in China, then returned to Japan to recognize his ancestry. He just came to China at the end of last year, holding an idle position in the intelligence agency. Though not officially a military officer, he has high status among the Japanese—after all, his family position is there, and his older brother is a major general.”

“Fortunately, it was a close call.” Xiao Wangyun turned to look at Jiang Shouyue: “You were backstage and didn’t see the way he looked at Wanzhi just now.”

The driver looked in the rearview mirror and laughed: “Miss Xie should stay far away from him next time. I heard this little Japanese has strange perversions in that regard—he likes beating women. Once he brought a woman home and ended up whipping her to death with a belt.”

Seeing Xie Chi remain silent, Xiao Wangyun called: “Wanzhi.”

Xie Chi looked up at him: “Mm.”

“Scared?”

“No.” Xie Chi smiled lightly. “Am I that timid?”

The car stopped in front of the hotel.

Xie Chi said goodbye to them and went inside.

Just as the car started, Xiao Wangyun had the driver stop and said to Jiang Shouyue: “Wait for me a moment. I’ll go say a few words to her.”

“Alright.”

Xie Chi had already reached the door when Xiao Wangyun quickly followed: “Why are you walking so fast?”

She opened the door and put down her bag: “I’m tired. You should go back.”

“Something on your mind?”

Xie Chi stared at the chandelier, silent for a moment: “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Alright then, rest early. Call me if anything happens.” Xiao Wangyun walked out. “Lock the door properly.”

“Mm.”

Xie Chi got up to bolt the door and stared blankly at the lock.

Koike Ryuji?

Bullshit—that was clearly He Feng.

Xie Chi closed her eyes, feeling particularly irritated. She banged her head against the door a few times when she suddenly heard footsteps behind her, slowly approaching. She opened her eyes, turned to grab the intruder’s throat, but unexpectedly he moved more quickly, dodging to the side and pinning her hands, easily pressing her against the door.

“With your amateur skills, who are you trying to scare?”

Xie Chi was pinned down and couldn’t move: “He Feng.”

The person behind her was silent for a moment, then laughed and responded: “Yes.”

He pressed closer, his chest against her back: “I’ve been looking for you for so long—turns out you were hiding here.” He turned her around, continued to pin her hands above her head: “Let me have a look.” He bent down, examining her carefully: “You’ve become more beautiful.”

“Let go.”

As soon as He Feng released her hands, Xie Chi tried to hit him. He pinned her down again: “You can’t beat me.”

Xie Chi gave up struggling. She looked up at him. Five years without seeing each other—he was thinner than before, his features more mature, his contours more defined, even his nose bridge seemed much more prominent.

“What about that man?”

“He’ll be back soon.”

He Feng laughed: “Is he your man?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t lie to me—you’re not married.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Does he like you?” He Feng raised an eyebrow, blowing away a strand of messy hair by her face. “Or do you like him?”

“What’s it to you?”

“How is it nothing to me? Do you like him or not?”

“Yes, I do like him.”

He Feng stared into her eyes, suddenly smiled, let go of her hands, straightened his sleeves, and sat on the bed: “You’re lying to me. Your little tricks might fool others, but not me.” He patted the bedding. “I looked for you for a long time. They said you were dead, but I didn’t believe it. I kept looking.”

“What did you want to find me for?”

“To find you—” He Feng paused, suddenly smiled. “What else would I find you for? Besides moaning nicely in bed to please me, what other use do you have?”

Xie Chi grabbed a bottle and threw it at him. He Feng caught it steadily and set it aside: “Same old temper.”

“Koike Ryuji?”

He Feng raised an eyebrow at her: “Mm?”

“When did you get yourself a Japanese father?” Xie Chi walked past him and sat in front of the mirror, tidying her hair that he had messed up. “Do they know your Chinese name—He Feng, or He Zhan?”

He Feng looked at her with a light laugh: “Worthy of being my woman—smart.”

“No wonder the rumors in the stronghold said your big brother was Japanese spawn. He was the real son of Koike Ryōichi, and you stole his identity.” Xie Chi looked at him through the mirror. “What are you trying to do?”

“Right now I just want to do you.”

Xie Chi looked away and gave a light laugh.

He Feng asked: “Where did you come from? What are you doing in Beiping?”

“Coming to get married.”

“Don’t believe it.”

“Believe it or not, up to you.”

“When did you meet him?”

“Many years ago.” Xie Chi poured half a glass of liquor. “Met him right after leaving the stronghold.”

“You’re not allowed to marry.”

“Why not?”

“Just not allowed.”

“On what grounds?”

“Just not allowed. I won’t allow it.”

“What? If I insist on marrying, will Mr. Koike bring Japanese soldiers to kill me?”

He Feng stood up, walked behind her, roughly pulled her up: “Kill you for what? I’ll kill him, kill his whole family. Let’s see if he has the guts to marry you.”

Xie Chi shook him off, smiling as she rubbed her wrist: “How frightening.”

“Look at that weak appearance—if you’re going to find someone, couldn’t you find someone stronger? Can he even satisfy you?”

“I just like the weak type.”

“Stop lying to me.” He Feng suddenly embraced her waist, pulled her forward against his body. “Real or fake, you’re my woman. Even if I don’t want you, you can’t be with anyone else. That’s the He family rule.”

“You dare mention the He family.” Xie Chi gave a mocking laugh. “The Young Master is in a different position now—this little woman is quite terrified.”

He Feng gripped her face, applying pressure: “Remember this—I’m called Koike Ryuji. The Young Master you mentioned, my brother, died five years ago.”

“Afraid I’ll tell? Afraid it’ll affect your great future?” Xie Chi gripped his wrist, staring at him intently, trying to observe subtle changes in his expression. “Which side are you on?”

He Feng ignored her words, suddenly grabbed her hair, flipped her around, and pressed her heavily onto the table: “Have you slept with men these years?”

Xie Chi was hit so hard her arms went numb. She deliberately said: “Yes, many.”

“Looks like your bedroom skills have improved. Let me see.” He grabbed her waist and roughly threw her onto the bed, tearing open her qipao. Xie Chi buried her face in the blanket, reaching back to pound and pinch him. He Feng gripped both her hands with one of his to stop her from moving, while his other hand reached forward and groped roughly, laughing: “You’ve grown up.”

Xie Chi couldn’t struggle free and cursed: “You scoundrel.”

“Scoundrel is nothing—I’m a beast.” He flipped her over, fingering the torn fabric, lightly patted her mouth. “Watch your tongue, or I’ll throw you into a comfort station and let you taste the pleasures of night after night.”

Xie Chi stopped struggling and looked at him calmly.

He Feng made no further moves, suddenly laughed, and gently touched her face: “Remember that?”

Xie Chi kicked him in the stomach, sending him tumbling off the bed.

He Feng got up and dusted off his clothes without anger, walked to the window, glanced back at her: “Behave yourself, Miss Xie.”

He jumped out the window.

A hot breeze blew in, and the gauze curtains rose and fell.

Xie Chi lay on the bed, motionless.

…

Xie Chi didn’t sleep all night.

The next day, Xiao Wangyun brought breakfast over.

She had no appetite and a terrible headache.

Xiao Wangyun stood by the window, chattering for a long time, but Xie Chi didn’t hear a word.

“Wanzhi.”

“Wanzhi.”

Xie Chi came back to her senses and looked at him: “Mm?”

“Were you listening to me?”

“Sorry, say it again.”

“I said Japanese soldiers have suddenly increased patrols recently. Three comrades were killed some time ago. Now there are Japanese soldiers checking at every intersection. According to the liaison, they open every piece of luggage to examine carefully, not even sparing women’s rouge and powder boxes. The station checks are even stricter.”

Xie Chi thought for a moment: “I do have a way, but it’s somewhat risky.”

“Tell me.”

“I won’t tell you.”

Xiao Wangyun approached and sat on the sofa: “Won’t tell me?”

“Leave it to me.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“I have a Japanese friend.” Xie Chi looked at him seriously. “In any case, don’t worry about it.”

“What Japanese friend? How come I don’t know about this?”

“There are many things you don’t know.” Xie Chi stood up to pour liquor. “Stop asking.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“More people would be less safe. Trust me.”

Xiao Wangyun took away her glass: “Don’t drink—it’s early morning.”

Xie Chi snatched it back: “Mind your own business.”

…

These past few days, He Feng was either at the garrison or going to the opera house with Hanada Kimi.

Xie Chi secretly followed him several times.

In the evening, He Feng came out of the opera house, said a few words to Hanada Kimi, then went west alone. He strolled leisurely all the way, even buying a string of candied hawthorns.

Xie Chi followed him for two blocks, but when she glanced elsewhere for a moment, she actually lost track of him, so she immediately turned back.

Before she’d taken many steps, a large palm suddenly gripped her wrist and pulled her directly into an alley.

He Feng held candied hawthorns in one hand and pressed her shoulder with the other, pinning her against the wall, spitting out two seeds forcefully: “Why are you following me? Missing me?”

He had been drinking and reeked of alcohol.

Xie Chi looked at him calmly: “Yes, wanted to ask when you’re leaving, to get a few more looks at you.”

“What? Want to come with me?”

“Would you take me?”

He Feng bit off a candied hawthorn, held it in his mouth, lifted his lips toward her, speaking unclearly: “Eat this and I’ll take you.”

Xie Chi leaned over and bit the candied hawthorn, her lips lightly touching his mouth as she took it.

He Feng licked his lips, leaned close to her ear and said in a low voice: “Getting frisky in the middle of the night?”

She chewed slowly, gently spitting the seed onto him. A small round thing fell on his chest, caught by his shirt.

He Feng raised his hand, putting the candied hawthorn stick to her mouth: “Another one?”

“No more, it’s a bit sour.”

“I think it’s quite sweet.” He Feng suddenly straightened up, brushed his chest, and the hawthorn seed fell with a patter. “What scheme is that little head of yours cooking up now?”

“No scheme—just haven’t seen each other in a long time, wanted to catch up on old times.”

“Catch up in bed?”

Xie Chi fell silent.

“Should I discuss life philosophy with you instead of going to bed?” He Feng gave a frivolous laugh, lightly patted her face. “I’m in a good mood today, won’t argue with you. Go home and behave yourself—don’t seek death.”

With that, he walked away lazily.

Eating the candied hawthorns in his hand, leaving behind a tall, lean silhouette.

Xie Chi watched him go.

After five years, he had grown up, grown taller, but had become even less human.

…

He Feng walked far away.

He turned a corner to where she couldn’t see him and stopped, dropping his hand. The sour taste was still in his mouth, not yet swallowed.

He lowered his head slightly, staring at the ground in a daze. Forgetting to spit out the seed, he actually swallowed it along with everything else.

A rickshaw passed by.

He immediately raised his head, resuming his dissolute and unrestrained appearance, plucked off a candied hawthorn, and continued forward.

…