To welcome this competition, Xinxin Department Store had not only added many novel decorations and facilities, but had also launched a series of “Flower of Shanghai” promotional events. At dusk, when the neon lights came on, the whole building looked like a resplendent crystal palace. But by the time the competition officially began, the scene wasn’t as lively as expected—the audience was sparse, and most reporters had rushed off to Yifeilin instead.
When it was Wen Tingli’s turn to perform, she quietly scanned the VIP section.
Yan Zhenzhen and Zhao Qingluo were leading a group of loyal classmates, waving flags in the audience.
On the other side, Huang Yuanshan was directing his own photographer with great authority, taking pictures of her onstage.
Gao Xiaowen, wearing a wide-brimmed gauze hat and bold red Danqi lipstick, sat like a queen in the most prominent seat in the front row.
The moment Wen Tingli took the stage, Gao Xiaowen threw a flying kiss up at her as if no one else were around.
Also present that night were the major shareholder Miss Dong Qinfang, the president of the Shanghai Women’s Association, celebrities from the cultural world, wealthy businessmen, movie stars, playboys…
The only one missing was Lu Shicheng.
Her invitation had been declined once again—not entirely unexpected.
Wen Tingli had always had one strength: she never got stage fright or worried needlessly, and once she stepped into the spotlight, she’d throw herself wholeheartedly into the performance. This time, even with a small audience, it didn’t stop her from giving her all.
The act she’d prepared was a comic sketch she’d designed herself. During the performance, the audience burst into laughter again and again; by the end, the applause was thunderous. Wen Tingli took her bow happily, and glancing down casually, noticed a few extra audience members had appeared—among them a handsome young man, none other than Meng Qiguang, who, while everyone else applauded, simply watched the stage at his leisure with an air of composure.
Wen Tingli knew Meng Qiguang was a good friend of Gao Tingxin’s, and his presence tonight likely came with some intent to scout out the competition. From the looks of it, he seemed quite satisfied—after all, judging purely from tonight’s turnout, Xinxin Department Store hadn’t just lost, it had lost quite badly.
The next day, when Wen Tingli picked up the newspapers, sure enough, most of them were reporting on Yifeilin’s contest. Many pages featured Zhu Zihe’s elegant figure at the piano onstage, captioned with things like “renowned painter successfully advances to Yifeilin’s beauty pageant finals.” As for Xinxin’s side of the competition, even the few papers that mentioned it at all gave it only a passing note.
Wen Tingli grew increasingly anxious. From the looks of things, the preliminary round hadn’t just failed to bring more viewers and advertisers to Xinxin—it might well end up losing its existing advertisers to Yifeilin too. At noon when she got back, Yan Zhenzhen called to comfort her: “There’s nothing to be done about it. Yifeilin is a newly opened department store after all, and they put in so much work ahead of time. It’s only natural people would flock over out of curiosity. Your comic sketch last night was brilliant. If they didn’t come to see it, that’s their loss.”
This state of affairs continued for the whole day, but by evening, things took an unexpected turn.
The reason was that one particular newspaper sold out completely that day. The publisher of that paper happened to be an old acquaintance of Dong Qinfang’s, and while most Shanghai papers were rushing to cover Yifeilin’s grand event, this one alone devoted extensive space specifically to reporting on Xinxin’s competition.
The paper wrote that in beauty pageants throughout history, contestants had mostly focused on showcasing their own talents, with performances tending toward the reserved and traditional. But this contestant named Wen Tingli—also the champion of the “First Annual Youth Drama Competition”—had unexpectedly brought the audience a comic sketch unlike anything seen before.
She played two roles by herself onstage, alternating between a money-shop clerk desperate to climb the social ladder and a pampered, adorable young lady of a money-shop family—when playing the clerk, her manner was oily and her words flippant; when playing the young lady, she was radiant as peach blossoms and quick with witty remarks. Especially the scene where “the two characters” bickered over accounts across the counter had the audience roaring with laughter throughout.
Alongside the article was a series of photos of Wen Tingli performing the comic sketch. This paper’s circulation had always been quite good, and upon seeing this contestant’s getup, people couldn’t help but spread the word as something novel.
People were no strangers to the beauty pageants that had proliferated in recent years, but this was the first time anyone had heard of a pageant contestant disregarding her image to perform a comic sketch onstage. Out of curiosity, people bought the paper to see for themselves, and just looking at the photos was enough to make them burst out laughing.
Word spread from one person to ten, ten to a hundred, and the paper quickly sold out.
Upon hearing this news, Dong Qinfang sent Wen Tingli’s competition photos to several other newspapers overnight. Unexpectedly, the next day, several papers’ sales outperformed even the previous day’s coverage of Yifeilin’s competition.
On the third day, viewers began calling Xinxin one after another to ask whether the finals would feature a similar comic sketch performance.
On the fourth day, several comic-opera troupes and drama societies started inquiring about Wen Tingli’s performance history, and asked over the phone about group ticket prices for finals night.
That same day, Huang Yuanshan, director at Golden Film Studios, came forward in interviews as a “family friend” of Wen Tingli’s, repeatedly emphasizing that this Miss Wen was the champion of the previous “Shanghai Youth Drama Competition,” and stating that Golden Film was preparing a film starring Miss Wen, inviting everyone to keep an eye out.
With a renowned director’s help “fanning the flames,” the buzz spread further into the literary and film circles. A couple of days later, walking down the street, Wen Tingli actually saw a child imitating her with one hand mimicking an abacus—that had been her signature move onstage playing the bad clerk that night. That morning, several tabloids had used this photo of her as the cover of their entertainment section.
That wasn’t all—that afternoon, coming out from her shift at Exceleen Trading Company, she was again cornered by a few tabloid reporters at the gate.
Afterward, Wen Tingli called Gao Xiaowen to demand an explanation. Gao Xiaowen admitted it freely: “Yes, it was me who told them you work part-time at this trading company. I’m doing this to help you and Dong Qinfang with publicity—no matter how novel something is, people forget about it in a couple of days. If we don’t seize this chance to get more exposure, how else are we going to help draw more viewers to Xinxin?”
Dong Qinfang struck while the iron was hot, and began publicly selling tickets for the finals in the papers. Within just an hour of the announcement, the tickets sold out completely. Dong Qinfang also told Wen Tingli that a face-cream company was interested in hiring Wen Tingli as their calendar-poster girl, offering quite reasonable pay.
Wen Tingli was over the moon for several days straight. In truth, the price that face-cream company offered wasn’t high at all—after all, Shanghai never lacked for new faces and new stories, and people’s interest in her would likely fade before long. But having money to earn was always something to be happy about. She knew that if she performed even better in the finals, more merchants would take interest in her.
Strange how it goes—when luck is bad, bad news comes one after another; when luck turns good, good things come in a row too.
That noon, Zhao Qingluo called Wen Tingli.
“Come to school quickly.”
“What?”
“The joint exam scores are out!”
Wen Tingli dashed out like a gust of wind.
By the time she reached the school, many classmates had already arrived. It was late summer, the campus lush with greenery and fragrant with flowers. Amid the chorus of cicadas, she stepped onto campus and saw many familiar faces ahead, each wearing a different expression—some frowning with worry, some beaming with joy, and others neither sad nor happy, their faces bearing only a look of transcendent relief.
“Wen Tingli! We’re over here!” The area in front of Quanxue Hall was packed with people. Yan Zhenzhen jumped up in the crowd to wave at Wen Tingli. “Come on up, you have to sign for your transcript in person.”
“How did you two do?” Wen Tingli asked nervously. Zhao Qingluo and Yan Zhenzhen kept her in suspense, refusing to say, though their faces couldn’t hide their happiness.
Wen Tingli bounded up the stairs.
“You’re Wen Tingli from the Practical Class, aren’t you?” The dean of academic affairs looked at Wen Tingli with unusual curiosity.
Wen Tingli only nodded blankly—she didn’t quite dare take her own transcript.
“Here, just sign here.”
She pressed the transcript tightly to her chest and went slowly downstairs, where Zhao Qingluo and the others crowded around.
“Well?”
“I haven’t dared look yet.” Wen Tingli said nervously, closing her eyes.
Suddenly, Zhao Qingluo let out a shriek. Wen Tingli’s eyes flew open in alarm, and before she knew it, Yan Zhenzhen had grabbed her head and was rubbing it vigorously.
“Wen Tingli, you’re going to be the death of me—with scores this good, you’re still not satisfied?!” Someone else shrieked too—this time it was Wen Tingli herself.
The transcript clearly read: Chinese 86, English 92, Math 79.
Though the total wasn’t especially high, it was better than any exam she’d ever taken before. She was so happy she bounced around like a rabbit, dashing far off then running back to hug Yan Zhenzhen and Zhao Qingluo, screaming, “Aaaaahhh.”
“I knew she’d go crazy. With these scores, aside from Huajiang and St. John’s medical program, the rest of the departments shouldn’t be a problem for her.”
“What?” Wen Tingli’s excitement abruptly cut off. “Not enough for the medical program?”
“Hey, that’s enough out of you. Only five students in the whole school got into Huajiang’s medical program—one is Chen Xiaohong, who’s always first in the whole grade every single exam. The other four you know too, always near the top of every exam. St. John’s medical prep program did admit seven students, but after finishing the prep program you’d still need five more years of study—just the tuition alone over those years would be ruinously expensive. Didn’t you already say you weren’t considering it?”
“Not being able to afford it is one thing.” Wen Tingli deliberately pouted. “Not getting in is another thing entirely.”
“Unbelievable.” Zhao Qingluo clenched her fists. “No wonder Yan Zhenzhen always wants to hit you—now I want to hit you too. Don’t run, stand right there and take your beating like a good girl.”
Wen Tingli had already dashed off in a flash, running to a sweet osmanthus tree, where she gleefully held up her transcript to look at it again and again, pressing it to her chest: “I got in, I actually got in! Mama, can you see this?”
This scene happened to fall into the view of two people by the flowerbed.
“Isn’t that Miss Wen Tingli?” Zhu Zihe laughed in surprise.
Principal Zou nodded happily: “Today’s the day scores are released. Looks like this child did well. Let me go over and ask her.”
Zhu Zihe, however, hooked her arm through Principal Zou’s: “Don’t forget we still have business to attend to.”
“Oh right, let’s go find Shicheng in the office first.”
Just then several students came running up, laughing and joking, and dragged Wen Tingli away. Principal Zou and Zhu Zihe continued on their original path into the Small White Building.
The moment the two of them entered the office, they saw Lu Shicheng standing by the tea table reading the newspaper.
“How long have you been here?” Principal Zou asked affectionately.
Lu Shicheng smiled—he’d just arrived.
“Young Mr. Lu.” Zhu Zihe greeted him from the side.
Lu Shicheng nodded at her.
“I have a dentist appointment today. Zihe worried I’d be bored alone, and insisted on coming with me. When I came to see you at school, she had to tag along too.”
Principal Zou picked up the teapot on the table, preparing to make tea. Zhu Zihe took the teapot from her hands: “Let me do it.”
Zou Zhiping shook her head with a smile: “These past few days this child won’t let me lift a finger for anything. I’m honestly worried I’ll be so unused to it once she leaves.”
“Then I’ll stay by your side until you get sick of me.” Zhu Zihe said, half-coquettishly.
Lu Shicheng took the tea Zhu Zihe had poured and nodded to her in thanks.
“You’re welcome.” Zhu Zihe smiled.
Zou Zhiping looked at the two of them happily.
“What exactly happened last Sunday?” she asked Lu Shicheng. “You’re never one to be late or break an appointment—that day you kept us waiting the whole afternoon for nothing. Did something happen?”
Lu Shicheng glanced at the newspaper on the tea table—yes, something had happened, an “incident” that was currently making a face at him in the newspaper.
He made a show of finding the question awkward to answer, naturally sidestepping the topic.
Principal Zou suspected nothing, but Zhu Zihe followed Lu Shicheng’s glance to the newspaper on the tea table. She smiled slightly and picked up the paper: “I saw this Miss Wen on the way here just now.”
Principal Zou glanced at the paper and laughed.
“That’s right, this child’s become quite famous—the papers have been full of her these past few days. Performing a comic sketch at a beauty pageant, of all things—who would have thought of it. No wonder Manager Huang from Golden Film keeps calling her a genius—oh right, Shicheng, you know Wen Tingli too, don’t you? She was at that dinner that night. Look at this photo, look at her expression—oh, it’s absolutely hilarious.”
Principal Zou, an eternal optimist by nature, couldn’t help laughing heartily as she spoke. Lu Shicheng had no choice but to take the paper he’d already read twice and glance over it again.
“Don’t be so perfunctory about it.” Principal Zou chided gently. “I know you’ve never been interested in this kind of news. Well then, let’s talk business—I’m planning to open a women’s night school for adults in Yangpu District, specifically to help the many factory working women—”
Just then, Director Zhu from the academic affairs office came in carrying the grade book: “Principal, here are this graduating class’s transcripts.”
Principal Zou said with great interest: “Just put it on the desk—I was just wondering how Wen Tingli did.”
No sooner had Director Zhu left than Michelle came in right after: “Principal Zou, Director Chen has urgent business and needs you to come over.”
Principal Zou then said to the two of them: “I’ll go take care of this. If any calls come in, no need to answer for me—I’ll be back soon.”
Once Principal Zou left, only Zhu Zihe and Lu Shicheng remained in the office.
Zhu Zihe was reserved and elegant; Lu Shicheng, distant and silent. The two of them each drank their own tea, until suddenly Zhu Zihe broke the silence with a smile: “If I may say so, Young Mr. Lu really does resemble your mother from her younger days.”
Lu Shicheng looked up at Zhu Zihe.
“My mother treasures quite a few photos from her school days. This time, because she’s ill, she couldn’t come to Shanghai with me. Worried Auntie Zou would be disappointed, I brought along several of her photo albums instead. As it turns out, Auntie Zou picked out quite a few photos of your mother from her school days, and said the three of them were best friends back in school—she said Young Mr. Lu would surely be delighted to see these photos. Too bad you weren’t there that day, and then I got busy preparing for the competition and forgot about it. I wonder, does Mr. Lu have any free time these next few days? I could bring you the album.”
Just then, the phone by the windowsill suddenly rang “jingle-jingle.” Lu Shicheng, seemingly forgetting Principal Zou’s instructions, walked over and picked up the receiver, then seemed to suddenly remember he couldn’t speak, and turned back to ask Zhu Zihe to come help answer the phone.
Zhu Zihe was somewhat surprised—Lu Shicheng didn’t seem like someone who’d make such a careless mistake.
She suspected he might be using this as an excuse to cut off her train of thought—after all, once he was busy answering the phone, she’d have no way to keep chatting with him, yet what she’d been discussing was clearly a topic that interested him.
Could it be he didn’t like an overly forward, enthusiastic opening?
No, that wasn’t it—he’d clearly deliberately sent her over to the windowsill!
Puzzled as she was, since the way he’d cut off her words had been so polite and natural, she could only smile and step forward to take the receiver.
“Hello, who’s calling please?”
Turning back, she saw Lu Shicheng had unhurriedly moved to the side of the room away from the windowsill, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other seemingly idly flipping through a ledger on the desk.
Looking closely, she saw he was flipping through this graduating class’s grade book at Wushi Middle School.
He seemed to be just glancing casually, yet he flipped through several pages without stopping.
Not until he reached a certain page did his finger suddenly still.
He gazed at it for a moment, then looked away toward the inkwell on the desk, glanced up at the clock on the wall as if nothing had happened, and then settled back onto the sofa as though it were the most natural thing.
And just before this, in the instant the grade book was closed again, Zhu Zihe caught a quick glimpse—the name on that transcript page he’d been looking at wasn’t very clear, but the person in that student’s half-body photo was unmistakably—Wen Tingli.