It was past eight by the time she got home.

Wen Tingli jumped off the tram and entered the lane with a pair of eyes swollen and red from crying.

The Wen family’s house was rented—the ground floor served as the Western clothing shop’s storefront and the main bedroom, the second-floor loft was where Xiao Taozi and Zhou Sao lived, and Wen Tingli herself lived alone in the third-floor bedroom.

By this hour, the shop had already closed. She went straight to the back to look for her father, but the room was empty. She stood dazed in the hallway for a moment, then heard a sound at the front door and saw her father come in, humming a tune to himself, thoroughly pleased.

Wen Desheng, caught off guard by his daughter appearing from the back, let out a surprised, drunken hiccup: “You’re home so early?”

Wen Tingli said nothing.

Wen Desheng assumed his daughter was upset with him for going out drinking, and didn’t think much of it.

Not long ago, he’d gone to see a Western doctor about feeling unwell, and the doctor said his liver was somewhat inflamed and told him to quit drinking. Being someone who feared death above all, he’d quit right away, and for three months hadn’t touched a drop. But who could blame him for celebrating tonight, with Qiao Xingchu making such a grand gesture of taking his daughter to formally meet the family elders? Wasn’t this practically good news arriving?

Sitting alone at home, he’d grown more and more pleased with himself, and unable to resist, had gone off in high spirits to find some friends for a drink—but worried his daughter might be angry when she got back, he’d deliberately timed his return to be early.

Watching his daughter approach him swiftly, Wen Desheng suddenly widened his drunken eyes. “Huh, why are you crying like this?”

His daughter’s hair was disheveled, her eyes swollen red like peaches.

“What on earth happened? Did Qiao Xingchu mistreat you?”

Hearing that name, Wen Tingli’s throat tightened, but she quickly wiped away her tears and asked, feigning calm, “Dad, did Mom ever go by the name ‘A’Rou’?”

Wen Desheng’s face changed color instantly. He said, flustered and furious, “What A’Rou? Who told you that?”

“You said it yourself, Dad! Years ago you were drunk and arguing with Mom—I heard it with my own ears outside the door.”

Wen Desheng mumbled a few words, then jumped up and said sharply, “So what if I did? That’s just a nickname, isn’t it? Did someone say something to you?”

Wen Tingli, recalling how Mrs. Qiao had humiliated her tonight, both openly and subtly, found her grievances had nowhere left to go, and simply collapsed onto the nearby table and burst into tears.

Wen Desheng, panicking, hopped about anxiously, and after finally getting the story out of his daughter, staggered and sank pale-faced into a chair. “How could Mrs. Qiao possibly know about this?”

Still sobbing, Wen Tingli pressed on. “Where did Mom’s scar come from?”

“Your mother, she…”

Wen Desheng gritted his teeth and finally admitted it. “Your mother was originally from a wealthy family, but had the misfortune of her family declining when she was only in her teens—one relative after another fell ill and passed away, and your mother, left with no one to depend on, was sold by relatives into a brothel… Later, to escape that Red Powder Fragrant House, she suffered more than I can say. She was disfigured, yes, but at least she got out in the end… ah, better not to speak of these things.”

The more Wen Tingli heard, the more her heart ached. After thinking it over, she asked coldly, “Did Qiu Dapeng know Mom back in Nanjing?”

As far as she could see, there was no one else it could be. Tonight the Qiao household had so many dignitaries in attendance, yet Qiu Dapeng had only shown his face once and left. Given how skilled he was at working connections, if he hadn’t been guilty of something, why wouldn’t he stay and mingle a while longer before leaving?

Wen Desheng leapt up like a startled frog. “Him?! That’s why—it’s been so many years, how else would Mrs. Qiao find out? It must be that Qiu wagging his tongue. He can’t stand to see us doing well!”

As it happened, back when he’d first known Qiu Dapeng, he himself had only been a young tailor’s apprentice, while Qiu Dapeng had been a bodyguard at the Red Powder Fragrant House. Their two establishments had happened to be right across from each other, and the two of them had crossed paths often, gradually becoming close as men of the same age.

The tailor shop Wen Desheng worked at, Nichang, was famous far and wide, and he was the most skilled among the apprentices, always well-regarded by his master. Qiu Dapeng, seeing that Wen Desheng seemed fairly well-off, would come borrow money from him now and then.

Qiu Dapeng had one good quality—if he said he’d repay in three days, he never let it drag to a fourth, and he was a man of loyalty besides. Whatever trouble Wen Desheng ran into, Qiu Dapeng was always the first to show up and help. Before long, the two formally became sworn brothers.

It was around this time that A’Rou was sold into the Red Powder Fragrant House. The first time they saw A’Rou, both Wen Desheng and Qiu Dapeng were struck speechless—perhaps because she’d studied music, chess, calligraphy, and painting since childhood, her bearing was unlike anyone else’s, and she quickly became the top courtesan of the house.

One time, A’Rou and the madam came to the tailor shop to have clothes made, and it happened to be Wen Desheng who attended to her. He treated her with great respect, speaking gently to her, and when she left that day, A’Rou glanced back at him several times.

Later, Wen Desheng learned that A’Rou had thought at the time that this young tailor had a refined appearance, and remarkably, showed not the slightest trace of frivolity in front of her—which had won him her favor.

After that, A’Rou began coming to him often to have clothes made, and slowly the two fell secretly in love.

Not long after, Qiu Dapeng nearly got beaten to death after offending another gang, and A’Rou stepped in to save him. Afterward, Qiu Dapeng took A’Rou as his sworn sister, declaring again and again that from then on, A’Rou’s affairs were his affairs too.

It was also around that time that Qiu Dapeng had accidentally discovered A’Rou and Wen Desheng were together, and had grown noticeably despondent, once even half-jokingly asking A’Rou why she didn’t fancy him instead.

But there was nothing to be done—one was his sworn sister, the other his sworn brother. After a period of gloom, he’d let it go.

Later, A’Rou caught the eye of a powerful warlord, and to escape his pursuit, she chose to disfigure herself. But this meant she could no longer stay in Nanjing. As luck would have it, the two of them had saved up a bit of money between them, and fled to Shanghai under assumed names.

Qiu Dapeng, who’d already grown tired of being a bodyguard, had come along with them.

The three of them had weathered hardship together in Nanjing, and with A’Rou having saved Qiu Dapeng’s life on top of that, the couple hadn’t worried about him talking out of turn. And indeed, over these years, their family had lived quite peacefully.

Who could have known—people change.

Or perhaps, they’d misjudged him from the very start.

Having heard the whole story, Wen Desheng shook with fury. “Your mother saw through Qiu Dapeng’s narrow-mindedness while she was alive, and warned me to keep less contact with him—I didn’t take it seriously at first, but ever since Qiu Dapeng came to Shanghai, there’s nothing he won’t do against his conscience. He made his fortune quickly enough, but my friendship with him had already worn thin. I know exactly why he’s done this to you—”

He clenched his teeth. “It’s nothing more than his own son getting shot down by you, and it’s eating at him—so he wants to break you and the Qiao young master apart. Does he think that by ruining things between you and Qiao Xingchu, his mangy son gets a turn? He’s dreaming!”

As he spoke, he rolled up his sleeves aggressively. “I’m going to go find that dog and get to the bottom of this!”

Wen Tingli tried to stop her father, but Wen Desheng had already pushed the door open and left. She chased after him a few steps but couldn’t catch up, and seeing the lane pitch black outside, could only anxiously return home and wait.

But even if Qiu Dapeng admitted it, what then? Beat him to a pulp for satisfaction? Her father was so thin and small—no telling who’d come out worse in that fight.

She suddenly thought of Qiao Xingchu. She knew their house had just gotten a telephone installed, and it had been so long since she’d left the Qiao house—normally he would have called by now.

Didn’t he care about her at all?

Wen Tingli sat there, alternately furious, anxious, and heartbroken, and before she knew it, she’d sat up the entire night.

Just before dawn, Wen Desheng finally came home, his face dark with a sigh the moment he walked in, then startled to see his daughter sitting dazed in the shop. “Why haven’t you gone up to sleep?”

Guessing his daughter had probably stayed up worrying about him, he added quickly, “That old scoundrel wasn’t there—probably guessed I’d come looking for a reckoning and was too scared to go back to the Qiu mansion all night.”

Likely parched and still fuming, he busied himself pouring tea while talking. “That little bastard! After doing something like this, does he even have any shame left? Starting today, I’ll go make trouble at the Qiu mansion every single day—let’s see how long he can hide.”

The doorbell rang. Wen Desheng went to answer it.

“Mr. Qiao…”

Wen Tingli froze—that tall figure in the morning light was none other than Qiao Xingchu. In just one night, he looked considerably more haggard. He too seemed startled, probably not expecting the Wen family to open the door so quickly.

Wen Tingli’s heart ached, and she turned to run upstairs, just catching Qiao Xingchu say to her father, “I couldn’t stop worrying about Tingli, so I came to check on her.”

Her father’s voice couldn’t hide his delight. “Good, good, good, she’s still upset—go have a good talk with her.”

Upstairs, Zhou Sao was wiping Xiao Taozi’s face with a damp towel. Xiao Taozi, tugging at a corner of the towel with both hands, turned and saw her sister, hurriedly raising her little arms. “Sister.”

Wen Tingli said vaguely, “Be good and eat your breakfast first, sister will play with you later.”

She went upstairs into her room and shut the door, throwing herself onto the bed. Though her face was buried in the covers, her ears stayed alert to every sound downstairs.

Remembering she hadn’t washed up all night, she crept quietly out of bed. Fortunately there was a thermos in the room, though the water inside had already gone cold. She hurried through tooth powder, wringing out a towel, combing her hair, tidying herself up neatly in front of the mirror.

The stairwell was quiet for a moment, then footsteps came up—two people’s worth.

A little later, her father knocked at the door. “Tingli, Xingchu wants to have a word with you.”

Wen Tingli didn’t answer.

“What’s the use of sulking alone in your room? Whatever grievance you have, you need to talk it out face to face. You didn’t sleep all night—here’s what we’ll do, the shop’s not open today, you two talk it through, and Dad will go downstairs and call the school to get you a half-day off.”

With that, he went downstairs on his own.

Qiao Xingchu stood silently at the door for a moment, and just as he raised his hand to knock, the door suddenly opened. Once it opened, Wen Tingli didn’t even look at him, walking straight to stand by the window instead.