Huang Yuanshan was a woman of quick temper — once she made up her mind about something, she could hardly wait to act on it.
She called the waiter over to settle the bill and hurried Wen Tingli out of the café.
As they walked, Wen Tingli kept glancing back. Huang Yuanshan, for all her generous and forthright nature, was also a bit careless — from start to finish, she hadn’t noticed the two men tailing them the whole time.
“The Lu family bought two plots of land in the French Concession back in the day,” Huang Yuanshan said, hopping into a rickshaw without further ado. “One was for building the school, the other for building the residence. The Lu mansion is located not far from your school — it’s only a seven- or eight-minute drive.”
She checked her wristwatch. “No telling if Lu Shicheng is even home. Actually, we’re pretty lucky, all things considered — the Lu family is currently headed by this young Master Lu. He may have quite the personality, but he’s always been much easier to deal with than his two uncles.”
Personality. This was the second time Wen Tingli had heard someone describe Lu Shicheng with that word. Her curiosity grew all the more. “What kind of person is he, really?”
“Who?” Huang Yuanshan blinked. “You mean young Master Lu, ah, well — he’s no ordinary person, that’s for sure, hard to explain in a few words. You’ll understand once you meet him yourself later.”
The car hadn’t gone far before a grand French-style white mansion came into view up ahead, with lush plane trees lining the roads on either side, the whole area extraordinarily quiet.
Huang Yuanshan stopped the car outside the towering wrought-iron gate with its filigree carvings, and got out to hand her card to the gatekeeper who came out at the sound. “My surname is Huang. This is Miss Wen. We have urgent business to discuss with young Master Lu.”
Wen Tingli quietly peered through the iron gate. A vast front garden lay beyond, with a spacious circular driveway inside the gate, and at the end of that driveway stood the striking white main house. The whole estate was orderly, grand, and tranquil — aside from the chirping of birds and the murmur of flowing water, there was hardly any disruptive noise to be heard.
A breeze passed, carrying a pleasant floral fragrance from within the walls. She was quietly guessing what flower it might be when a middle-aged steward came out and bowed slightly to the two of them.
“Miss Huang, Miss Wen, please follow me.” His manner was extremely proper.
Following this steward inside, they passed one building after another, skirted clusters of shrubbery, crossed through a long, winding front garden, and finally arrived before a fountain pool. They had thought the main residence would be just ahead, but suddenly a wide expanse of lawn opened up before them instead.
At this point, the steward suddenly stopped, and Wen Tingli and Huang Yuanshan also paused, following his gaze forward. In the refreshing green expanse ahead, they suddenly glimpsed a strange, moving patch of white.
Looking closer, it turned out to be a flock of snow-white pigeons in motion.
Someone was feeding the pigeons there.
He had his back to the light, but one could tell he was young.
“Young Master Cheng, guests have arrived.”
The man scattered the last of the pigeons with a sweep of his arm, then turned to look back.
Wen Tingli froze.
This man’s features were extraordinarily fine, his eyes bright and full of spirit, his bearing outstanding — simply standing there quietly, he brought to mind an elegant Chinese ink-wash painting. In all her years, she had never once wanted to use the word “beautiful” to describe a man — until now.
He glanced at Huang Yuanshan and Wen Tingli, then walked toward them.
“Master Lu,” Huang Yuanshan said heartily. “We meet again.”
Lu Shicheng took out a handkerchief and wiped his hands clean, then proactively shook hands with Huang Yuanshan. Wen Tingli thought to herself — she had assumed this young Master Lu would be arrogant, but he was in fact remarkably well-mannered.
After shaking Huang Yuanshan’s hand, he turned his gaze to Wen Tingli, a hint of a question in his eyes.
“Oh, this is Miss Wen.” Huang Yuanshan introduced her warmly. “She just transferred to your school, Wushi. The matter we’re here to discuss today concerns her as well.”
Lu Shicheng, evidently well aware of how conservative the social norms still were, simply nodded to Wen Tingli upon seeing her student attire, without offering a handshake.
Up close, his nose was high and elegant, his eyebrows neither too thick nor too thin, and his eyes were unfathomably deep, like a still lake of black jade.
Something stirred in Wen Tingli’s heart — that night she’d run out of the Qiao residence and crashed into someone, it had probably been Lu Shicheng. He’d been just as quiet then as he was now. What had impressed her most was that, even though she’d knocked into him quite hard, he hadn’t forgotten to pick up her fallen hair ornament for her.
She found herself warming to him and returned his nod with a polite smile. “Good day, Mr. Lu.”
Lu Shicheng glanced at the steward beside him, who quickly said, “Tea and refreshments are ready. I’ll serve them to Miss Huang and Miss Wen right away.”
Lu Shicheng made a gesture of invitation to Huang Yuanshan and Wen Tingli, personally leading the two of them toward the residence nearby.
Wen Tingli trailed a few steps behind, and as she walked, her gaze couldn’t help lingering curiously on Lu Shicheng — every part of this man, from head to toe, was strikingly handsome.
Tall and straight in build, with broad but lean shoulders, long legs, even his hands were finer than most — smooth, rounded nails, and long, elegantly jointed fingers.
Huang Yuanshan, still on the way, couldn’t wait to bring up her purpose.
“…This will be the first formal student drama competition held in Shanghai, jointly led by our company and Wushi Middle School, together with the Shanghai Film Association and several other middle schools in the city… If it succeeds, it could have a profound, positive influence among young people… I believe this is an excellent opportunity to develop China’s film industry.”
Lu Shicheng listened quietly, and it was hard to tell whether he was actually interested, but at least he appeared to be listening attentively.
By this point, Wen Tingli suddenly realized she hadn’t heard Lu Shicheng speak a single word since they arrived.
Even more puzzling — Huang Yuanshan seemed to find nothing strange about this at all.
Once inside the main house, Lu Shicheng gestured for Huang Yuanshan and Wen Tingli to sit on the sofa nearby. Despite his young age, his bearing was remarkably composed.
Just then, the steward personally brought in several plates of tea refreshments — matching white bronze trays with white teacups, though the tea inside each cup differed.
A cup of pale green tea was set before Huang Yuanshan, while Wen Tingli was given a cup of honeysuckle-and-rose tea, along with a few elegant little tea snacks.
Huang Yuanshan had no thought for the tea, too caught up in eagerly laying out her plans.
Lu Shicheng sat across from her on the opposite sofa, listening attentively. Though he hadn’t spoken a word from beginning to end, he gave off a sense of ease, comfort, and openness, which gradually put Wen Tingli, as a guest, at ease as well, her initial awkwardness melting away.
“Mr. Lu, that’s the reason for my visit today,” Huang Yuanshan said with a chuckle. “I really should have given advance notice, but I heard Mr. Lu would be heading back to Nanyang soon, so I’ve come to impose without proper warning. This competition is no small affair, and to make it truly worthwhile, it needs to be organized quickly. If you’d agree to let Wushi Girls’ Middle School and Huangjin Film jointly lead this competition, I’d also have to trouble you to personally speak to your school’s board of trustees on our behalf.”
Lu Shicheng did not respond right away, seeming to be considering it carefully.
Huang Yuanshan grew somewhat anxious and shot Wen Tingli a glance. Wen Tingli quietly raised her eyebrows — though she hoped more than anyone that Lu Shicheng would agree, this didn’t seem like the moment for her to speak up.
Lu Shicheng took in both their expressions, then suddenly looked up at the steward.
The steward said with a smile, “Young Master Lu says this is a small matter — he can write a letter for Miss Huang. Tomorrow, Miss Huang can take the letter to the Wushi board of trustees, and they’ll act according to Young Master Lu’s wishes.”
Wen Tingli and Huang Yuanshan were overjoyed. “That would be wonderful!”
Lu Shicheng walked over to a cherrywood writing desk and sat down, took a fountain pen from his jacket pocket, wrote out the letter, and handed it to Huang Yuanshan.
Wen Tingli glanced over — the handwriting matched the man, elegant and forceful.
Huang Yuanshan clasped Lu Shicheng’s hand, saying heartily, “Master Lu really is the most generous and straightforward person I’ve ever met! Let me thank you on behalf of Shanghai’s film industry in advance.”
Lu Shicheng still said nothing, personally seeing the two of them to the entrance hall doors, then stood on the steps, gesturing for the steward to see them out.
After walking some distance, Wen Tingli instinctively looked back, just in time to see Lu Shicheng turning to head back into the hall.
This man — well-mannered from start to finish.
Once the two of them got into the car, Wen Tingli couldn’t help asking the question on her mind: “Sister Huang, did you notice that young Master Lu never spoke this whole time?”
Huang Yuanshan, busy putting away the letter, looked up in surprise. “You don’t know?”
Wen Tingli was baffled. “Know what?”
Huang Yuanshan turned the car around and drove quickly back the way they’d come. Only once they were well away did she lower her voice. “Young Master Lu has a speech impediment.”
“What?!”
Huang Yuanshan studied Wen Tingli’s face carefully, as if trying to determine whether her surprise was genuine.
“Have you really never heard the rumors about the Lu family?”
Wen Tingli shook her head blankly. “Was Mr. Lu born mute?”
“He’s not mute. He simply refuses to speak.”
Wen Tingli’s curiosity was now thoroughly piqued. “What exactly happened?”
Huang Yuanshan then told her about a tragedy in the Lu family’s past.
It turned out Old Mr. Lu Hongjun was the second-generation head of the Nanyang Lu family, with three sons. The eldest, Lu Kending — Lu Shicheng’s father — was born to Old Mr. Lu’s principal wife, née Yu.
The second son, Lu Kening, and the youngest, Lu Kejian, were born to a Nanyang concubine Old Mr. Lu had taken locally.
It was said this Nanyang woman was a great beauty, and Old Mr. Lu fell for her at first sight — not only did he bring her into the household against his clan’s objections, he even built her a palace-like private residence and doted on her endlessly.
Loving her, he inevitably favored the two sons she bore him as well — especially the youngest, who resembled his mother most closely.
As it happened, the eldest son from the principal wife, Lu Kending, turned out the most promising of all — amiable, respected, a man of his word who honored his promises. Whenever the clan spoke of him, it was always with unanimous praise. By contrast, the two younger sons born of the Nanyang woman fell far short of him, in both temperament and ability.
Old Mr. Lu likely understood, too, that a son like his eldest was born to be the head of the family. Considering that the Lu family’s business would eventually need a reliable heir to carry it forward, he gradually came to value his eldest son more and more with each passing day — not only handing over the bulk of the business to him, but often bringing him along to banquets hosted by the local government.
Seven or eight years passed this way, and just as everyone had come to assume Lu Kending would be the new head of the Lu family, an unexpected tragedy occurred.
That year, Lu Kending bought a plot of land in Dutch Grobogan, and brought his wife and son to stay there temporarily, intending to spend a year establishing a large palm plantation. At first all was calm, but before long, a bandit uprising broke out in the area, and the Lu family of three were unfortunately kidnapped by the bandits.
Before Old Mr. Lu could even send the ransom, the Lu couple were killed outright, both falling in a pool of blood — only four-year-old Lu Shicheng survived by sheer luck.
Having likely witnessed his parents’ murder with his own eyes, four-year-old Lu Shicheng was severely traumatized — he fell gravely ill, and from then on became “mute.” Old Mr. Lu sought out renowned doctors both at home and abroad to treat his grandson, but none ever managed to get Lu Shicheng to speak again.
At this point, Huang Yuanshan’s expression turned meaningful. “Some say those weren’t bandits at all, but hired thugs paid for by Second Master Lu and Third Master Lu. Others say Lu Shicheng only pretends he can’t speak, because he has to guard against his two uncles trying to harm him too.”
Wen Tingli shuddered. “Was it really them? Even if they weren’t blood brothers, why would they resort to something so vicious?”
Huang Yuanshan shook her head. “A father’s favoritism is one thing, but acceptance from the clan is another entirely. I heard the two brothers were never accepted by the Lu family from the start — people used to call them ‘Nanyang bastards’ behind their backs. On top of that, the principal wife had suffered plenty of grievances from the concubine’s household over the years. The two brothers were probably worried that once the eldest brother took power, he’d drive them out of the family — so they struck first. Of course, after eliminating the eldest young master, the two brothers did enjoy quite a few glorious years. As for what happened once Lu Shicheng grew up—”
Wen Tingli suddenly recalled a news item she’d read in the papers the year before last, a flash of realization striking her. “That story about two wealthy Nanyang gentlemen getting into a car accident in Shanghai — could that have been Second Master Lu and Third Master Lu?”
The papers had said that Second Master had lost consciousness in the crash and now needed round-the-clock care for even the most basic needs.
Third Master had also become disabled.
“That’s them.” Huang Yuanshan cleared her throat. “After that incident happened to the two of them, it finally fell to young Lu Shicheng to take charge of the family.”
A thought sprang into Wen Tingli’s mind, but she didn’t dare say it aloud. Huang Yuanshan wore a look of awe as well: “Earlier you asked me what kind of person Master Lu is — I told you he’s no ordinary person. Now you understand, don’t you? That’s what they mean by biding one’s time in silence. Such a young age, yet able to lie low for so many years without a flicker of expression, quietly waiting for the right moment, until he finally settled the score with his enemies with his own hands — that kind of resolve—”
She scratched her head. “Well, this is all just gossip going around. Take it as a story, don’t put too much stock in it.”
Wen Tingli pointed at her own ear, then at her own mouth, shaking her head cautiously. After a pause, she couldn’t help but ask again, “Does Master Lu still refuse to speak now?”
Huang Yuanshan shrugged. “Perhaps he’s simply grown used to not bothering to speak, or perhaps that tragedy really did leave him with what they call psychological trauma (note). Either way, I’ve never once heard him speak. Fortunately his hearing is fine, so there’s no trouble communicating business with him — you saw it yourself just now, he always carries a pen in his suit pocket, and whenever he wants to say something, he just writes it down on paper to show people.”
“Isn’t that troublesome, dealing with him that way?”
“Troublesome?” Huang Yuanshan’s eyes went wide. “Do you know how many people in Shanghai are dying to get close to this Master Lu? Anyone who finds it troublesome is welcome to walk away — there’s no shortage of others ready to take their place.”