The newspaper was a tabloid of little renown, and the news itself was three months old.
The headline read: “Of Old There Was the Wu Clan of Yun County, Now There Is a Beauty of Shanghai: A Certain Distinguished Household Nearly Suffers Domestic Tragedy Over Improper Conduct Between Brother-in-Law and Sister-in-Law.”
The piece named no names throughout, yet from the scattered clues woven through the text, it was not hard to guess it referred to the He family, those tycoons of the yarn industry.
For instance: “This gentry household has two sons and two daughters in all; the eldest young lady and eldest young master were born of the first wife, while the latter two children were born of the second wife.”
And: “Last year the eldest young master announced his marriage in the papers; the wedding was held at the Carlton Hotel, with notables gathering that day, carriages and horses thronging the streets,” and so on.
Then the pen turned, and it continued: “This bride of the eldest young master had originally been a schoolmate of the second young master. Though married to the elder brother, her heart secretly remained with the second. After the second young master returned from studying abroad, brother- and sister-in-law were together day and night, and moved by old feelings, at last engaged in a secret affair. When the eldest young master discovered this, he flew into a rage and drew a pistol, intending to shoot his beloved wife; fortunately he was persuaded from this in time, averting disaster. Yet the marriage, having been rent like torn silk, could hardly continue, and the brothers, moreover, became estranged from that point on.”
The article, written in the style of the Mandarin Duck and Butterfly School, was lurid and vivid, so that even through the printed ink one could feel the writer’s spittle flying as he composed it.
Scandalous gossip had always been popular fare, and coming from such a first-rate, prominent household as this, once this scandal broke, the newspaper’s circulation shot up overnight, its name suddenly on everyone’s lips, people scrambling to buy copies.
The copy in Hongdou’s household had been begged from Tailor Peng downstairs by her brother—but her brother’s original purpose in seeking out this paper hadn’t been to read the He family gossip, but for a missing-person notice printed on the same page.
Three months had passed since then. Hongdou set the missing-person notice aside for now and focused instead on this He family news—which, on scrutiny, seemed riddled with holes at every turn.
For instance, if this affectionate sister-in-law truly loved her brother-in-law, why had she married the elder brother a year ago in the first place? Society these days emphasized casting off the old and embracing reform—the old ways of parental arrangement and matchmakers were long out of fashion. The He family, compared to other wealthy households, followed an even more progressive, “civilized” path; if the young lady in question hadn’t been willing, there would have been no reason to force the marriage.
Moreover, the paper said the second He son had gone abroad four years ago and had only just returned this year. If he truly had a prior attachment to his sister-in-law, why hadn’t he rushed back before last year’s wedding, instead of waiting until the rice was cooked, so to speak, before engaging in such underhanded business?
Holding the newspaper, she clicked her tongue and shook her head. When people heard this kind of sordid news, they tended to believe whatever they were told first, and even though this article was full of holes, no one bothered to weigh truth against falsehood—so the rumor spread and compounded until it scorched the whole city with slander. She guessed that after this news broke, no matter how the second He son tried to defend himself, everyone had already decided he’d had an improper affair with his sister-in-law.
However, the tabloid hadn’t enjoyed its glory for long—within a few days it announced its closure, and the reporter who’d written the article, trying to flee Shanghai overnight to avoid trouble, had barely reached the train station before being caught and beaten senseless, with many bones broken. No need to guess who was behind that—clearly the He family’s doing.
More ironic still, Sister-in-law Zhou said that before this scandal broke, the He family, to celebrate the second young master’s return from abroad, had run full-body photographs of Dr. He Yunqin in several newspapers. Counting it up properly, quite a few people on the streets would recognize He Yunqin by sight.
One would think that after the scandal broke, wherever this Mr. He went, he couldn’t avoid being pointed at and gossiped about. And yet, from that brief glance just now, Hongdou felt this man came and went with perfect composure. She couldn’t tell whether he was truly so at ease, or whether he simply felt defending himself was useless, and had resigned himself to letting things be.
When puzzling over interesting matters, Hongdou’s mind tended to wander freely and wildly. In the words of Reverend Lin of St. John’s University, “this child has a bit of a wicked sense of humor.” On this point, Hongdou herself readily admitted it.
Just as she was thinking herself into great amusement, she heard a rasping sound from downstairs, as if someone had come out.
She had already been lounging idly by the window, and at this sound, her eyes drifted downward.
There, a tall man descended the steps.
Just as Sister-in-law Zhou had said, this He Yunqin wore a Western-style white shirt on top, Western trousers below, his movements crisp and elegant, with not a trace of the spoiled young master about him.
Unfortunately, looking down from the window, she could only see the top of his head.
He walked straight to his bicycle but didn’t mount it immediately. Instead he stood beneath the streetlamp in front of the shop, smoking a cigarette in silence.
After a while, he suddenly stubbed out the cigarette and looked up toward the building above.
Yu Hongdou hastily leaned her upper body back, avoiding a direct look at his face.
In that brief instant, she only registered that he had striking, handsome features, looking a year or two younger than her brother.
She waited, but heard no sound of He Yunqin riding off. Growing a little impatient, she peeked out again, using the curtain as cover.
There he stood, still in the same spot, seemingly still gazing upward.
Yu Hongdou thought, not without some mischief, that perhaps this He Yunqin had fallen into a passionate romance with Miss Qiu on the third floor, and it was the pangs of lovesickness that kept him from leaving. But on closer thought, she felt the expression on his face was rather strange—something probing about it, mixed with a hint of amusement, as if something in the building had caught his interest.
What could this old house possibly have to interest him? Turning it over in her mind, she could only conclude it must be Miss Qiu.
Just then a wind picked up, carrying a touch of cool autumn air, drifting in slowly through the window, lifting the fine white gauze curtains hanging on either side.
Fearing the papers on her desk would be scattered, Yu Hongdou reached to hold down the curtain—just then, Tailor Peng’s two chubby boys came pattering out of the shop.
The two children, seeing He Yunqin, showed no shyness at all, only grinned and surrounded him, peppering him with questions. Mrs. Peng shouted a couple of scoldings from inside the shop, entirely without effect.
Fortunately, He Yunqin showed no impatience. He exchanged a few words with the two children, then pulled something out of his trouser pocket and handed it casually to the younger Peng boy.
Probably some inexpensive candy or the like—the two children took it and ran off cheering.
Before leaving, He Yunqin turned to look up at the building once more.
But soon enough, he turned away, mounted the bicycle, and rode off with easy grace.
Yu Hongdou drew the curtains closed, switched on the desk lamp, and read through the old newspaper’s items one by one.
Sure enough, in the bottom right corner there was a missing-person notice, and like the one for the missing star Chen Baidie, this notice too was accompanied by a small photo.
The person in the photo had a round, moon-shaped face, seventeen or eighteen years old, her hair braided into a pair of long, thick pigtails. As if it were her first time being photographed, her two hands didn’t seem to know where to go, gripping tightly at the hem of her indigo cotton tunic with the diagonal front closure.
The notice said this girl’s name was Wang Meiping, and half a month ago she had come from Shaoxing to Shanghai to join her uncle and aunt. She had boarded the train in Shaoxing the night before, and was supposed to arrive in Shanghai the following evening—but Wang Meiping’s uncle and aunt, Mr. and Mrs. Zhou, waited from afternoon until midnight, until the train station closed, and Wang Meiping never showed up.
The two of them assumed Wang Meiping had changed her travel plans, or had simply missed the train. Going home to discuss it, the next day Mr. Zhou went back to the station to keep waiting for Wang Meiping, while Mrs. Zhou stayed home with the children.
At the same time, they sent a telegram to the countryside.
Who would have thought that after four days of waiting, Wang Meiping still hadn’t appeared. The reply telegram from the countryside confirmed that Wang Meiping had indeed boarded the train four days earlier.
It was only then that Mr. and Mrs. Zhou grew truly alarmed, hurrying to the newspaper office to place a missing-person notice, and going to the police station in the dead of night to report it.
Hongdou remembered glancing at this from the side when her brother had brought the paper home to study it, but this missing Miss Wang couldn’t compare to the great star Chen Baidie in immediately capturing her interest—if not for hearing Sister-in-law Zhou mention the He family scandal today, she would have nearly forgotten this person entirely.
Three months had slipped by, and there was no telling whether Wang Meiping had made it home or not.
The next morning, Yu Hongdou woke to learn that her brother had come home very late the night before, and had left again before dawn.
At breakfast, Mrs. Yu chattered on endlessly, sighing repeatedly over how hard her son’s police work was.
Once breakfast was finally done, Hongdou went back to her room to fetch her school bag. It wasn’t especially early anymore, and to avoid being late she’d need to bike to school, so she set aside her Western dress and found a long jacket and trousers to wear instead.
Just as she finished changing, her mother brought in a newly knitted wool sweater and told her to put it on: “It’s noticeably cooler today than yesterday—you can’t wear a single layer anymore.”
Hongdou looked at the sweater—a fresh, tender egg-yolk yellow, not too thick, fuzzy, with a row of snow-white beads like pearl dots sewn across the front, pearl-white against the egg-yellow, unexpectedly elegant.
She hurriedly took it and put it on, then gave her mother’s cheek a big, laughing peck. “Thanks, Mom.” And she was out the door like a gust of wind, school bag on her back.
The first class today was Chinese Literature, feared by the entire department—”being late” meant “disaster.” Even the boldest students never dared act up in this class.
Mrs. Yu was long accustomed to her daughter’s Monday rush, and merely called after her, “If your brother comes home tonight, have him hire a car to your uncle’s place to deliver the holiday gifts.”
Yu Hongdou agreed as she went out the door. But just as she ran downstairs, she saw a tall young man with thick brows and large eyes standing at the entrance, and cried out in delight: “Brother, you’re back?”
Author’s Note: How to describe the male and female leads of this story? A bit like a legendary pair of Republican-era heroes—the case may be complicated and thorny, but who cares, when these two are bold, meticulous, and utterly fearless?