Keyu Theater wasn’t far at all—it took no more than half an hour to get there.
As it happened, Wang Bide was also pushing along a somewhat worn bicycle.
Hongdou had gone out on errands with Wang Bide before, and in her impression he either rode in He Yunqin’s rickshaw or his own. This was the first time she’d seen him go out alone, and she hadn’t expected he’d also ride a bicycle.
She suddenly recalled a time when He Yunqin and Wang Bide had been in her family’s study, the two of them acting strangely as if measuring something. She’d found it odd at the time, but then something about her cousin had interrupted, and she’d forgotten to ask about it.
She wasn’t sure whether it was pure coincidence, or whether the two men simply shared some common quirk.
Just as she was lost in thought, she heard He Yunqin call to her. “Hongdou.”
It seemed that even though he’d already decided to go to Keyu Theater, he still hadn’t forgotten to ask whether she wanted to come along.
Hongdou couldn’t help suppressing the muttering in her heart, and said with a smile, tilting her face up, “Sure.”
Her smile was radiant, and He Yunqin, seeing it, felt at ease, unconsciously relaxing into a smile of his own.
Wang Bide rode alongside He Yunqin. When he’d first heard that He Yunqin was going to marry Yu Hongdou, he’d genuinely been startled for a while. After figuring out the twists and turns behind it, he’d once asked He Yunqin whether—aside from the matter of Bai Haili forcing the marriage—he’d actually taken a liking to Yu Hongdou from early on.
He remembered He Yunqin had thought it over for a while, and in the end hadn’t answered him.
He’d genuinely been puzzled. Yu Hongdou was pretty, certainly, but given his family circumstances, He Yunqin had had plenty of opportunities to meet accomplished young ladies, some of whose looks could well rival Yu Hongdou’s. Why hadn’t He Yunqin ever shown willingness to arrange marriage with any of them?
Truly unable to handle Bai Haili? What a joke.
By today, he’d come to understand a fair bit of it. Aside from Yu Hongdou, who else would follow He Yunqin around eagerly, running here and there with him?
If it were anyone else, even if they forced themselves to tag along on a case investigation just to humor He Yunqin, they’d likely either be bored to tears yawning, or scared off and turn straight back.
The reason He Yunqin had married Yu Hongdou wasn’t just the allure of her looks—there was no lack of a kindred spirit between them as well.
Judging by how He Yunqin had seemed that day, he himself still seemed a bit muddled about it. Wang Bide wasn’t sure whether, after these two days of newlywed life, He Yunqin himself had figured it out yet.
Keyu Theater, called a “theater,” was in fact an old-style opera garden. Because in recent years it had produced several famous performers including Bai Fengfei, the troupe owner’s finances had gradually loosened up, and he’d simply leased an old-style garden, decorating it thoroughly inside and out.
Walking in along the painted corridor, one saw clusters of lush green, ribbons of vivid red, countless winding paths, a new view at every step—truly delightful to the eye.
Since it was still morning, the garden was very quiet.
The manager already knew He Yunqin, and upon hearing that Wang Bide had come to see Bai Fengfei, hurriedly led the three of them into the inner garden.
At the side hall, they were seated and served tea. The manager poured the tea properly, then closed the door and left.
Hongdou lightly stirred the floating tea leaves with the cup lid, listening intently, and faintly heard someone practicing vocal exercises. The voice drifted up like willow catkins, thin and delicate, rising continuously higher in an unbroken thread—it seemed already refined to the utmost, yet it kept going, drifting ever upward, straight into the clouds.
The only time in her life she’d heard Bai Fengfei sing had been in the garden of the He mansion, and she couldn’t tell now whether this was Bai Fengfei’s voice or not. Turning to look, she saw He Yunqin gazing down at his teacup, motionless, clearly also listening to the practicing. She asked, “Is that Bai Fengfei?”
He Yunqin glanced at Hongdou—he’d never cared for opera and couldn’t tell Bai Fengfei’s voice from anyone else’s. He thought about it, and while Wang Bide wasn’t paying attention, pinched her cheek and said, “By rights the troupe should have finished vocal practice at dawn. Whoever can still be practicing alone in the garden at this hour, with no one else around—it can’t be anyone but Bai Fengfei.”
The reasoning sounded perfectly sound. She blushed, pulled up his shirt sleeve, and looked down at his wristwatch—sure enough, it was nearly eight thirty.
Then they heard the person stop practicing. After a silence, they heard someone come trotting in, saying to a servant sweeping outside, “Boss Bai is here, put away the broom quickly, careful not to raise dust and irritate Boss Bai’s throat.”
Hongdou and He Yunqin exchanged a glance—that really was a proper “star,” it was no surprise the staff below put on such a show even for her.
Before long, voices could be heard chatting idly out in the corridor, drawing closer, faint at first, and then the carved rosewood lattice door opened, and a woman in a lake-blue qipao suddenly appeared in the doorway.
The last time Hongdou had seen Bai Fengfei, she’d still been on stage in full costume, so she hadn’t been able to make out her actual appearance. Now, seeing the real person, she couldn’t help looking closely.
A pointed, melon-seed face, moth-wing eyebrows slanting up into her hairline, a pair of eyes that sparkled with life, extremely clear and bright—wherever her gaze happened to land on someone, it carried a certain quality that made people go still.
Clearly she’d been famous for a long time; though her whole bearing carried a touch of languid affectation, there was still an overwhelming presence to her.
It was just that her age was no longer young, and she didn’t seem to be resting well either—though her makeup was carefully applied, it all sat somewhat garishly on her face.
Upon entering, the first person she saw was He Yunqin, and she said with surprised laughter, “So the trace analysis expert Detective Wang mentioned turns out to be Mr. He.”
Her voice was clear and mellow as flowing spring water—truly living up to its reputation.
Her next glance fell on Hongdou, and she paused in surprise before smiling. “And this is—”
At the wedding that day, Hongdou had only shown her face briefly before leaving, so Bai Fengfei hadn’t gotten a clear look. She’d known Second Young Master He had married, but never expected he’d bring his new wife along on an outing like this.
He Yunqin smiled. “This is my wife.”
Bai Fengfei raised her eyebrows in surprise, looking Hongdou over carefully several times, showering praise as she looked. “Truly a match made in heaven, a perfect pair.”
Wang Bide tugged at his Western-style suit collar and said seriously, “Boss Bai, this case at Keyu Theater is being talked about everywhere now. I’ve come today to ask again about the events of the night Yang Yutian died.”
Bai Fengfei hesitated, glancing toward He Yunqin. He Yunqin set down his teacup and said in a perfectly composed tone, looking at Bai Fengfei, “If it’s inconvenient for Boss Bai to have my wife and me present, we can step outside.”
Bai Fengfei quickly laughed. “Mr. He, didn’t you hear what Detective Wang just said? Boss Yang’s case has already spread everywhere—ever since it happened, people have been coming by every few days asking about it. I’m long used to it by now. It’s no trouble to go through it once more even in front of Mr. He.”
With that, she smiled and glanced at He Yunqin, then waved a hand, and the door behind them swung shut with a soft sound.
Once Bai Fengfei sat down, Wang Bide asked, “Boss Bai hasn’t been resting well these past days? Your complexion looks even worse than the last time I saw you.”
Bai Fengfei lowered her eyes to look at the neatly scattered tea leaves in the fine white porcelain cup and sighed slowly. “After all, I’d known Boss Yang for many years, and he passed in such a terrible way—naturally I haven’t been able to get over it. I haven’t slept well in days.”
He Yunqin stretched his legs out, leaning back against the chair, quietly studying Bai Fengfei.
Hongdou followed his gaze—Bai Fengfei’s qipao was brand new, the fabric with a soft, glossy sheen, yet it hung somewhat loose around the waist and midsection, not fitting well at all. Someone as particular about appearances as Bai Fengfei would never wear an ill-fitting garment—if the dress was oversized, it was either because she’d lost a great deal of weight in a short time, or because she was wearing someone else’s clothes.
Hongdou looked closely at the dark circles under Bai Fengfei’s eyes that even her makeup couldn’t hide, and leaned toward the former explanation.