After getting in the car, Wen Tingli suddenly had a flash of inspiration and smiled at Driver Li. “Wait, let’s go to Ruisheng Tailor’s first—I want to buy a few clothes.”
Kuang Zhilin knocked on the study door, and Lu Shicheng answered from inside: “Come in.”
“Old Li’s already been sent over to Xiufeng Company. Miss Wen should be using the car by now.”
Once he’d said this, Kuang Zhilin sat himself down on the sofa without ceremony.
He noticed that the moment the words “Miss Wen” were spoken, Young Master Cheng closed the folder he’d been working on. A moment later, Young Master Cheng even pushed back his chair and got up, going to the coffee table to pour him a cup of tea.
Kuang Zhilin accepted the teacup with a broad smile. Whether in front of others or in private, this boy always treated him with respect.
His heart warmed through, and he slowly sipped the fragrant tea.
Lu Shicheng asked, “Did you manage to set up that appointment with Director Wang at Huiqun Hospital for me?”
“He’ll come by tomorrow morning. By the way, Director Wang wants to know why we’re looking for him—his specialty is nutrition and digestive ailments, but he’s never heard of anyone at the Lu residence having that kind of trouble.”
Lu Shicheng paused. “If someone had to fast for a period of time for some reason, would Director Wang have a way to make sure they still get proper nutrition?”
What an odd request. If someone needed nutrition, wouldn’t eating well be enough?
But Young Master Cheng clearly wasn’t joking. Kuang Zhilin knew better than to press further. “Alright, I’ll pass along Young Master Cheng’s request word for word to Director Wang.”
A few seconds of suspicious silence hung in the air. Lu Shicheng glanced at Kuang Zhilin, then picked up a newspaper and began to read it with apparent composure, though he was clearly distracted, and before long tossed the paper aside and walked over openly to make a phone call.
Once the call connected, he said, “Reserve a private room on the third floor for tonight—no, have them prepare a few light but nutritious dishes. Actually, have them send over the menu and I’ll draw it up myself.”
This was clearly a call to Hong Yuan, the Lu family’s private restaurant, which by tradition only served the Lu family’s own honored guests and rarely did business with outsiders. That in itself was nothing unusual, but what Kuang Zhilin hadn’t expected was that Young Master Cheng wanted to design the menu himself—proof that his earlier guess had been correct. Young Master Cheng was looking for Director Wang for Miss Wen’s sake.
He sighed and shook his head. Young Master Cheng would probably be calling Miss Wen next, so it was time for him to take his leave.
But Lu Shicheng suddenly seemed to notice something. He set down the receiver and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window to look outside.
Two unfamiliar workmen were on the lawn, at work.
Kuang Zhilin hastily sent someone to fetch Steward Xu, but the man who came was a young steward named Feng.
“Why is it you? Where’s Steward Xu?”
“Steward Xu is ill. Young Master Cheng had Dr. Louis come by this morning to examine him, and he’s still resting. I’m covering the whole shift today.”
Lu Shicheng pointed out the window. “Where did you hire those two workmen?”
“Mama Liu said the antenna frame in the northwest corner of the garden had fallen over this morning, and pressed me to find someone to fix it. I hired two men temporarily from the local labor agency.”
“Foolish!” Kuang Zhilin barked. “Don’t you know the Lu residence never hires people whose backgrounds aren’t clear?”
Steward Feng wiped his sweat. “This is normally Steward Xu’s responsibility. I saw he was too ill to think straight, and didn’t want to bother him, and Mama Liu was pressing me so urgently, and I thought this kind of work would be quick—wouldn’t cause any trouble—so I…”
Lu Shicheng was quiet for a moment. “Settle their wages and send them away at once.”
Watching Steward Feng hurry off, Kuang Zhilin said angrily, “This Feng Da is Mama Liu’s own nephew, raised up in the Lu household from childhood. Never expected him to be so unreliable.”
He sighed again. “Earlier we cleared out a batch of people to root out the informants the Third Master planted in the household. Then a while back when the old master fell ill, we sent even more of our capable veterans down to Nanyang. There really aren’t many trustworthy people left in the household now, otherwise we wouldn’t have let this Feng boy step in on such short notice.”
Lu Shicheng’s face was grim as still water. “Check whether he’s had any contact recently with anyone from Beiping. If we find the slightest trace of anything, throw him out at once. Even if we find nothing, someone like that isn’t fit to keep on staff—send him back to Nanyang tonight, and recall Managers Chen and Zhao to Shanghai.”
Kuang Zhilin nodded, satisfied. This boy never dragged his feet in dealing with problems. “I’ll have Zhou Wei come in right away, and go check into the backgrounds of those two workmen while I’m at it.”
The moment she got back from Hujiang University, Wen Tingli had Driver Li take the things she’d bought at Ruisheng straight home for her—too many people coming and going in the office, and she worried something might get lost.
No sooner had Driver Li left than Tian Ling came in carrying two lunches. Her own plate had vegetables, meat, and rice; Wen Tingli’s had only a few slices of cucumber and a piece of dry bread—unappetizing at a glance.
Tian Ling urged her, “Eat at least a little, or the afternoon shoot will be even harder to get through.”
Wen Tingli steeled herself and speared a piece of cucumber, about to put it in her mouth, when Huang Yuanshan suddenly led a middle-aged man into the room.
“This is Director Wang from Huiqun Hospital’s digestive department, here to help adjust your diet. Did you arrange this appointment yourself yesterday?” Huang Yuanshan looked a little confused.
Wen Tingli was equally taken aback. Huiqun Hospital… could this be Lu Shicheng? She’d mentioned it to him once over dinner the night before last, but she hadn’t expected him to actually go through with it. She hastily stood to greet Director Wang. “Hello.”
After an examination, Director Wang told Wen Tingli, “You need to start taking vitamin pills right away, and your diet needs immediate adjustment. For breakfast and lunch, you absolutely must add high-energy nutrients like chicken and beef. I’ll write you out a menu—please follow my instructions strictly. Don’t worry, eating this way won’t undo your progress at all; it’ll actually help you maintain basic nutrition. Would you mind telling me how much longer your current work will last?”
After hearing Director Wang’s instructions, Huang Yuanshan happily patted her chest. Out of concern that Wen Tingli’s body couldn’t take it, she’d recently paused filming on Twin Pearls to focus entirely on pushing forward Spring Wind Blows Again.
“I’ve genuinely been worried she’d starve herself to death—now I can rest easy. Thank you for taking care of her these coming days.”
Wen Tingli smiled on the surface, but was deeply moved inside. Director Wang also wrote out a prescription for her, telling her to go to Huiqun Hospital that afternoon to buy the nutritional supplements according to the prescription. Huang Yuanshan took the prescription slip without hesitation and personally saw Director Wang out.
That evening, Wen Tingli and Lu Shicheng had just finished dinner at Hong Yuan and stepped outside when, with no warning, rain began pelting down from the sky.
Wen Tingli laughed and burrowed straight into Lu Shicheng’s arms, using one hand to shield her head, but the rain seemed to pour from the heavens by the basinful, drenching them before they could react.
Lu Shicheng simply took off his own suit jacket and held it over both their heads, pulling her forward at a run. “Get in the car first.”
The two of them dashed into the car and sat down, Wen Tingli still laughing. “Really, how does it just start raining out of nowhere like that?”
She looked down at herself—thankfully Lu Shicheng’s jacket had covered her in time, so despite the downpour, only the top of her head and her feet were partly wet. She turned to look at Lu Shicheng and was surprised to find him soaked through from head to toe, rainwater dripping steadily off him.
“Why didn’t you look after yourself!” Wen Tingli hurriedly took out her handkerchief to wipe the rain from him.
Rainwater streamed down from Lu Shicheng’s hairline, making it hard for him to even open his eyes properly. He reached over and took the handkerchief from her hand to wipe the water off his eyelids himself. With her hands now empty, Wen Tingli fished his own handkerchief out of his trouser pocket to wipe the rest of him.
But the water inside his clothes was nothing a handkerchief could fix—the more she wiped, the deeper the wet patches seemed to spread.
“This won’t do, we need to get home and change right away. It’s already autumn—be careful you don’t catch a chill.”
“It’s not that easy to catch a chill.” Lu Shicheng quickly wiped the rain from his own face, then, like a wet dog shaking itself dry, gave his head a shake, water droplets flying from his short hair.
Wen Tingli dodged and laughed. “Ugh! You got water in my eyes.”
Lu Shicheng patted down his own pockets one after another and finally found a dry handkerchief, cupping her face with his hand. “Hold still, let me wipe you off.”
His gaze fell now on her lips, now swept across her forehead. Wen Tingli’s heart tingled in response. As he wiped, his hand stilled, and he suddenly leaned in and kissed her lips.
The kiss carried the cool freshness of rain, yet was unusually sweet. As they kissed on, she couldn’t help but wrap her arms around his neck, returning the kiss.
By the time they reached the Wen residence gate, the rain hadn’t let up—if anything, it had grown heavier.
The two of them ran hand in hand to the door, but were soaked to the skin regardless.
Once inside the entryway, Wen Tingli said, “I’ll go upstairs and get towels and clothes.”
Lu Shicheng wiped a hand across the rain on his face and stood in the entryway watching her run upstairs.
Looking around, there wasn’t even a place to sit—wherever he sat, he’d leave a large wet patch. He could only stand in place, shaking out his trouser legs and patting the rain off his shoulders.
Wen Tingli was gone a long while without coming back down. He was just thinking of going to the washroom to find a towel to wipe himself off with, when he saw her come down the stairs carrying a box.
She’d already changed clothes, a towel still draped around her neck. She pushed the box toward him at the bottom of the stairs. “Quick, take this and change.”
“What’s this?” Lu Shicheng asked, curious, opening the lid.
Inside was a stack of men’s ready-made clothing.
Earlier, outside Hong Yuan, she’d said “go home and change clothes”—he’d assumed she meant herself.
Wen Tingli said, a little shyly, “See if it fits.”
Lu Shicheng was still a bit dazed. As she pushed him forward a few steps, he turned back with a smile and asked, “You know what size I wear?”
“You forget my family used to run a Western tailor shop. My eyes are as good as a measuring tape.” Wen Tingli pointed at her own eyes.
Fortunately, Lu Shicheng had already turned around, or he would have seen the flush rising on her face. Never mind how many times she’d already embraced him—even if she hadn’t, she’d have long since worked out his shoulder width and waist size exactly. The last time he’d stayed at her house recovering from an injury, she’d bought him a set of pajamas, and it had fit just right.
Before long, Lu Shicheng came back out, changed.
Ready-made clothing like this obviously couldn’t compare to the custom-tailored clothes he normally wore, but Ruisheng was one of the top Western tailors in the city—as long as the size was chosen well, there was hardly any difference. Besides, he… looked good in anything. She especially loved the feeling of him wearing something she’d bought him against his skin, though that wasn’t something she was bold enough to say out loud.
Lu Shicheng straightened the buttons on his cuffs, and while she helped him fasten his tie, he leaned close to her ear and said quickly, “Thank you.”
His tone was quite serious, but his smile was very sweet. Wen Tingli genuinely loved seeing him smile like that—it looked so open and easy.
As he was leaving, Lu Shicheng handed her the small pistol from before.
“Giving me this again? You know I already have a gun.”
“This one’s smaller, after all.” Lu Shicheng emptied out the bullets, carefully checked the magazine and chamber, then loaded the bullets back in one by one for her. “Carry it on you regularly, it’s less conspicuous. Take it—it puts my mind at ease.”
Wen Tingli solemnly put the gun away.
Seeing Lu Shicheng seem lost in thought, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I was thinking, why don’t I have Zhou Wei and the others start following you tomorrow. And send someone to escort Xiao Taozi and Zhou Sao every day too.” His tone was one of asking, not telling.
Wen Tingli’s face darkened. “Has there been movement from Lu Kejian again?”
He nodded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Let them follow you for a while, alright?”
His tone was gentle, but the killing intent in his heart ran deep. Lu Kejian could not be allowed to remain—his grandfather, to keep him from moving against Lu Kejian, had dispatched nearly all his trusted men to keep him in check. He meant to kill Lu Kejian, but he couldn’t be too hasty about it either—to bear the reputation of a cold-blooded murderer of an elder, just to eliminate one scoundrel, wasn’t worth it.
He leaned down and murmured a few words in Wen Tingli’s ear. She nodded solemnly.
The two of them sat at the dining table and each drank a bowl of hot, steaming ginger soup before she was willing to let Lu Shicheng go. As he left, she gave him the biggest umbrella in the house, and stood at the door watching, reluctant to part, until he got into his car. Turning back inside, she suddenly noticed a figure in the kitchen—it was Zhou Sao.
“Why are you up?”
“I heard the two of you murmuring away in the kitchen in the middle of the night and got worried you’d burn the stove down. Had to come see what was going on.”
Zhou Sao was busy checking whatever was in the pot. Ginger soup? The ginger had been cut so evenly, there was no way it was Da’nao’s work—normally the moment Da’nao stepped into the kitchen she got irritable, let alone picked up a knife to cut anything.
“Don’t tell me Mr. Lu made this ginger soup?”
Wen Tingli didn’t deny it.
“He cut the ginger too?”
Wen Tingli simply turned and headed upstairs without answering.
Zhou Sao pressed her palms together and raised her eyes to the ceiling, murmuring, “Mistress, do you see this? Our Da’nao is truly blessed, to have found a man this good.”
But Wen Tingli hadn’t gone far. Hearing this, she poked her head out over the top of the staircase. “Why don’t you say Lu Shicheng is the blessed one, to have found a good woman like me?”
“Yes, yes, yes, he’s even more blessed than you. Next time the two of you decide you want a midnight snack, can you wake me up to make it? What kind of sense does it make to let a guest do the cooking? And yet Mr. Lu is always so polite about it.”
“He’s not exactly an outsider…” Last time he’d even cooked her a bowl of noodles, though he’d forgotten the salt. Wen Tingli laughed and went back to her room.
The next day at noon, Wen Tingli ordered a serving of crab roe shark fin soup from Jindong Restaurant—Lu Shicheng’s favorite—and had it delivered to him, specifically asking the restaurant not to give a name. He’d guess it was from her regardless.
Once everything was arranged, she happily propped her chin in her hands and sat by the phone waiting for his call. Before long, it rang.
Wen Tingli deliberately drew out her voice. “May I ask who you’re looking for?”
“Wen Tingli?” Someone on the other end laughed. “Why are you putting on that voice on purpose? Think I can’t tell it’s you?”
“Baoxin!” Wen Tingli exclaimed with delight.
The two of them talked on the phone for a bit. Qiao Baoxin said, “I’m planning to come back to Shanghai next week. Let’s arrange somewhere to meet then.”
Wen Tingli’s voice dropped. “Why so sudden? Nothing’s happened, has it?”
“No, no, nothing’s happened. You’ve forgotten—my mother’s birthday is next week. I’ve been by her side every year in the past, and this year I should still go see her, or she’d be terribly heartbroken.”
“Does anyone else in the family know you’re coming back?”
“Only my cousin-uncle and my mother know.” Qiao Baoxin said quietly, “Actually, my mother’s already agreed to let me study at university in Beiping, but my father’s stubborn as ever, going around saying I’ve disgraced the Qiao family completely, even declaring outright: if he ever sees me, he’ll beat me to death with his own hands, and as far as he’s concerned, the Qiao family has no daughter named me.”
Wen Tingli had long since learned firsthand how suffocating the atmosphere in the Qiao household could be. She truly didn’t know what to say, and could only comfort Qiao Baoxin. “Since you’ve already walked away, don’t let his words weigh on you anymore. Just be sure to protect yourself out there.”
“Don’t worry, he stopped being able to scare me a long time ago,” Qiao Baoxin said flatly.
Last year, the moment she’d arrived in Beiping, she’d changed her name. She wasn’t even using the surname Qiao anymore! She refused to end up like her brother, forced into a marriage he didn’t want, living the rest of his life as a puppet existing only for the Qiao family’s interests.
She said to Wen Tingli, “Once I finish university, I’m going to keep going on for further study. Sooner or later I’ll make something of myself in society and show them… Oh, Tingli, I have good news for you. A few days ago, a professor from the American Mary’s Women’s College came to give a lecture at our school, and I went up and talked with her for a long while afterward. This professor was quite impressed with my English, and later, after looking over my transcript, accepted my letter of self-introduction on the spot. Out of everyone at the school, she only took applications from three students. I’m going to make the most of this rare opportunity.”
Wen Tingli was genuinely delighted for Qiao Baoxin. “Studying abroad takes a large sum of money—do you have enough on hand? If not, I’ll cover it.”
“No, no.” Qiao Baoxin was too moved to know what to say. “Tingli, you’re always so generous. I’ve seen it in the papers—your film company with Yao Jie is thriving, and I truly admire you. Whenever I think about how your circumstances back then were ten times harder than mine, it gives me endless courage… Don’t worry, my mother secretly sent me some money a while back, and more than half of it actually came from my brother. He asked my mother to pass along a message to me: go far away, and never come back.”
Wen Tingli fell silent for a moment.
“My brother…” Qiao Baoxin sighed with worry. “Never mind, let’s not talk about that. My cousin-uncle also sends me money now and then. He said if I really manage to get into Mary’s Women’s College, he’ll support me fully—but he wants me to write him an IOU, saying this money is a loan, and once I’ve established myself in society, I’m to pay him back.”
This was pure Meng Qiguang, through and through. Wen Tingli asked with a smile, “By the way, what about that lawyer of yours, Tong Zhaohui?”
Qiao Baoxin fell silent for a moment. “We’ve separated.”
Wen Tingli was startled. When Qiao Baoxin had left Shanghai, she’d clearly still been deep in a passionate romance with Tong Zhaohui.
“It’s a long story… let’s talk about it in person once I’m in Shanghai.”
A couple of days later, Huang Yuanshan indeed received an invitation from the Qiao family. Mrs. Qiao’s birthday was on Tuesday, and the Qiao family planned to host a grand banquet.
Wen Tingli had assumed the Qiao family wouldn’t invite her, but to her surprise, when she got back to the office, an identical invitation sat on her desk.
“To Miss Wen Tingli, with respectful regards.”
Huang Yuanshan was quite taken aback. “Wasn’t Mrs. Qiao always at odds with you? Don’t tell me she’s finally decided she went too far and is willing to swallow her pride and extend an olive branch. Well, are you going or not?”
“I’m not going.”
Huang Yuanshan let out a breath of relief. “Good, saves you the awkwardness of running into Qiao Xingchu.”
“Awkwardness?” Wen Tingli let out a short laugh. “Rivers and mountains apart, what’s past is past. Back then, the whole Qiao family ganged up to bully an orphaned girl like me—if there’s any awkwardness to be had, it should be Qiao Xingchu who feels it. What do I have to be awkward about?”
On the surface she showed no sign of holding a grudge, but that didn’t mean she’d truly let it go. She would never forget how they had humiliated her mother! She was simply waiting to see the Qiao family get what was coming to them.
On the other hand, she also had to think of Lu Shicheng’s feelings. So many people knew about her past history with Qiao Xingchu—now, with his mother’s birthday coming up, for her to go and offer birthday wishes at the Qiao household would look like what, exactly?
Without another word, she tore the Qiao family’s invitation to shreds and tossed it in the wastebasket.
Less than an hour later, someone from the Gao family sent over an invitation too—two of them, in fact.
It turned out old Grandfather Gao’s birthday fell the day after Mrs. Qiao’s, and the Gao family likewise planned a grand celebration. As it happened, both Gao siblings regarded Wen Tingli as an honored guest, hence the two separate invitations.
Wen Tingli, in high spirits, called Gao Xiaowen back.
When Tuesday arrived, Wen Tingli didn’t attend the Qiao banquet, and Lu Shicheng ignored the Qiao family’s invitation as well. The two of them spent the evening at Wen Tingli’s house, going over the new menu Director Wang had drawn up.
In front of Wen Tingli sat a large bowl of tomato-braised beef brisket, the broth pale and clear, apparently free of any oil at all.
After two spoonfuls of broth, tears suddenly welled up in Wen Tingli’s eyes.
“Is it that bad?” His eyes showed concern. “Should I have them adjust the flavor tomorrow?”
“No, it’s that it’s too good.” Wen Tingli said, teary-eyed, taking a deep breath. “It’s so much better than cucumber slices with dry bread.”
Lu Shicheng watched with a smile as she ate half the bowl, then turned back to seriously studying the menu in his hand, pushing the plate of snow pea shoots with cilantro paste toward her, saying with mock solemnity, “Next you should eat this.”
“Next, it’s your turn to eat,” Wen Tingli said, scooping a spoonful onto his plate.
These past few days, whatever she ate, Lu Shicheng ate alongside her. It was a wonder he didn’t find it tedious. The day before yesterday, Wen Tingli finally couldn’t help herself and leaned close to him. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“I am,” Lu Shicheng admitted honestly, nodding.
“Then why do you keep eating the same thing as me?”
“I can hardly sit beside you eating drumsticks and braised pork while you eat this, can I?”
“But it’s too cruel to make someone who doesn’t need to diet eat this stuff. Please, eat something else, or I really can’t bear it—I give you permission to eat other things.”
She leaned into him as she said this, and as the two of them pressed close together, her right arm happened to rest against his left chest.
Something small, crisp, and hard seemed to be hidden in his breast pocket—the moment she brushed against it, it let out a faint crunching sound.
Wen Tingli, curious, felt around at his chest and suddenly stopped, sniffing the air. “What smells so good?”
Lu Shicheng laughed and rubbed the bridge of his own nose, saying nothing. She reached her hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out several small cookies.
“Well, look at this, Lu Shicheng! Here I was feeling sorry for you having to eat the same thing as me at every meal, and it turns out you’ve been secretly hiding treats on yourself the whole time. Do you sneak snacks whenever I’m not looking?”
He laughed, but his tone was perfectly unashamed. “As you said yourself, I don’t need to diet. At least I never ate it right in front of you.”
“No more excuses! Now that I know how shameless you are, let’s see what other treasures you’ve got stashed away—hand it all over.”
He let her search him thoroughly, and once she stopped, he caught her hand and kissed it. “Poor thing, however did you get this greedy. Should I have Director Wang find some snacks for you to satisfy your cravings?”
“No…” She pressed her head against the crook of his shoulder. “Then I really would never lose the weight. I haven’t forgotten what I’m doing—let’s finish this film properly first, before anything else.”
…
As Wen Tingli recalled that day, she couldn’t help smiling to herself, and in the blink of an eye had finished off everything on the table. Director Wang had specified the exact portion for every meal—no more, no less. Even salt and oil were restricted. She found it far from satisfying, but at least she wasn’t constantly dizzy the way she’d been before, and everyone said her complexion had improved considerably.
The two of them made tea in the kitchen and came back out just as the phone rang in the living room. “Tingli, I’m back in Shanghai.” It was Qiao Baoxin.
“Where are you?!” Wen Tingli asked quickly, without bothering to lower her voice. Lu Shicheng was already used to her mysterious phone calls, and simply picked up a newspaper from the coffee table and walked off to sit at the dining table on the far side.
Wen Tingli gave him a comforting look with her eyes; he pretended not to notice. Such a stubborn thing.
Qiao Baoxin said, “I just secretly went to see my mother—thankfully my father didn’t find out. Can we meet up tomorrow? There’s a lot I want to tell you.”
“Sure, as it happens I’m going to a party at the Gao house tomorrow evening. There’s a café near the Gao residence called Dream of Opera Café, open until two in the morning. Tomorrow night, eleven o’clock, let’s meet there? I’ll probably be wearing a hat and sunglasses, don’t fail to recognize me.”
“I understand.”
After hanging up, Wen Tingli walked over to Lu Shicheng. His eyes were still fixed on the newspaper, not looking up at her. She took the paper from his hands and set it aside.
“Why’d you run off so far?”
“Afraid I’d accidentally overhear your secrets.”
Wen Tingli pinched his cheek. “What secrets—that was just a female classmate of mine—”
But Lu Shicheng, like a hunter waiting for prey to draw near, turned and caught her lips in a kiss, swallowing the rest of her words.
That Wednesday evening, Wen Tingli and Lu Shicheng arrived at the Gao residence more than ten minutes apart deliberately, but the moment she stepped inside, a crowd of people still swarmed around her.
“Boss Wen, I hear your company’s first film is going to wrap by the end of the month?”
“Some say you took a leave of absence from school just to start this company—if the company fails, wouldn’t that be losing both your studies and your career at once? Or do you have absolute confidence you can lead Xiufeng to great achievements? Miss Wen, do talk to us a bit.”
Not far off, someone watched Wen Tingli—surrounded by admirers like the moon among stars—with an unkind gaze.
“She’s ruined our Qiao family, and yet she just gets more glamorous by the day. If it weren’t for Boss Liu telling me some things after he got back from Beiping the other day, I’d never have guessed that Baoxin’s running away was actually instigated by this Wen woman!”
“I always said she was our Qiao family’s nemesis,” Mrs. Qiao said angrily, picking up her husband’s thread. “It’s a good thing we separated her from Xingchu back then, or who knows what trouble she’d have stirred up in our family. But husband, even if you’re seething inside, you don’t need to teach her a lesson in a setting like this—there are so many people here tonight, aren’t you worried about causing a scene?”
“The more people, the better. She dodged a bullet by not coming to the Qiao banquet the other day—today, there’s no letting her off. Our Qiao family’s own daughter has been left with no home to return to and a father who won’t acknowledge her, all because of this Wen woman, and yet she’s the one who’s come out ahead in both fame and fortune. If I don’t see her utterly disgraced and ruined, how will I ever swallow this anger!”
At the mention of her daughter, Mrs. Qiao couldn’t help losing herself for a moment. Baoxin had come to see her secretly the night before, and mother and daughter had held each other and wept.
In the past, she’d wanted nothing more than for her daughter to come home, believing that sooner or later her daughter would understand her intentions and accept the family’s arrangements—marrying some suitable young man from a prominent family. But this meeting with her daughter had thoroughly shaken Mrs. Qiao’s convictions.
Qiguang was right—Baoxin’s whole bearing had changed. More open, more mature, more thoughtful than before, speaking with real clarity on every subject.
Her daughter had even shown her her transcript—top marks in every subject.
Was this still the same timid, wooden daughter who used to go quiet the moment she stood before an elder?
At the time, Mrs. Qiao had felt something inside her quietly crumbling.
In her daughter, she caught a faint glimpse of herself as a young woman, when she’d first entered a women’s college—she too had once been like Baoxin, full of promise, brimming with confidence about life. But she’d only managed two years of university before being married off, as the family had arranged, into the then-flourishing Qiao household.
In the blink of an eye, more than twenty years had passed. That bright-eyed girl of years ago was long gone, replaced by a haggard, middle-aged woman with clouded eyes and a mind full of nothing but calculations.
All these years in the Qiao household, she’d known nothing but exhaustion.
Did she really want her daughter to walk the same road she had?
Was she herself, perhaps, the one who’d gotten it wrong? In this day and age, maybe it wasn’t so unsuitable for a woman to go out and make her own way in the world.
Watching the woman ahead of her, glowing at the center of the crowd, Mrs. Qiao admitted that alongside her resentment, some faint envy and admiration stirred as well.
Suddenly she heard her husband snort coldly beside her. “Look at that—we don’t even need to lift a finger, she’s gone and thrown herself at Qiguang. I hear this Wen woman’s always been tangled up with young master Lu of the Lu family, and now she’s openly making eyes at Qiguang too. Clearly she’s nothing but a social climber. What are we hesitating for—this time, she’s brought it on herself.”
The moment Meng Qiguang entered, Wen Tingli hesitated over whether to go up and have a word with him privately.
Earlier that evening, before she’d left for the party, Baoxin had suddenly called her, saying she was worried her movements outside might be noticed by her family, and asking to change their meeting spot to her room at the Dahua Hotel instead.
Wen Tingli had agreed right away, but afterward, doubt began to creep in.
It wasn’t that she was being overly suspicious—she’d simply suddenly remembered that last month, when she and Qiao Baoxin had spoken on the phone, Baoxin had said outright she wouldn’t consider returning to Shanghai before winter break. Why the sudden change of plans?
She had immediately told Lu Shicheng about her doubts, though she hadn’t mentioned Baoxin’s boyfriend, only saying that her good friend’s sudden return home seemed suspicious, and that she worried Baoxin might be under someone else’s control.
She also thought about how, aside from her mother’s birthday, this trip of Baoxin’s seemed somehow connected to Tong Zhaohui as well. Tong Zhaohui worked under Sister Li, with a rather complicated background—she remembered he’d fled to Beiping after his identity was exposed.
Her first instinct on this front was to have Head Nurse Liu send someone to check on the hotel where Qiao Baoxin was staying, but what if it wasn’t really Qiao Baoxin—wouldn’t that risk dragging Head Nurse Liu and the others into a trap?
Then it occurred to her: if Qiao Baoxin were being impersonated by someone else, or had been coerced into returning to Shanghai, there was one person it could never slip past. Now, seeing Meng Qiguang walk into the Gao residence’s main hall, Wen Tingli decided to go ask him.
“Mr. Meng.” She greeted him openly, in front of everyone.
Meng Qiguang showed no reaction at first, and only turned unhurriedly to look at her once Wen Tingli called out to him a second time from behind.
Wen Tingli wasn’t quite sure what his attitude would be. For a man like Meng Qiguang, that night’s ordeal counted as a lifetime’s humiliation—he’d nearly had his chest shot clean through by her.
This was not a grudge he’d necessarily hold forever, but he certainly couldn’t pretend nothing had happened either.
Unexpectedly, Meng Qiguang, seeing it was her, spoke quite mildly: “What can I do for you, Miss Wen.”
Wen Tingli checked her surroundings again—people everywhere, but the space right around the two of them was relatively quiet. Some watched from a distance, but kept enough space that it wouldn’t stir up any misunderstandings, so she could speak with Meng Qiguang about Baoxin without concern.
She lowered her voice. “I want to confirm something with you: has Baoxin come back to Shanghai? She said she’s been in contact with you.”
Meng Qiguang was silent for a moment. “She contacted you?”
“Yes.”
“Why should I tell you whether she’s come back to Shanghai or not?”
“Because she arranged to meet me on the phone.”
“Then why don’t you just go see her yourself?” He gave a scornful laugh, clearly with no intention of answering her question directly. Something seemed to catch his eye, and he turned to leave.
Wen Tingli instinctively took a step to follow. “Mr. Meng, I’m worried Baoxin’s in danger. Surely you don’t want anything to happen to her either?”
Meng Qiguang turned abruptly, and Wen Tingli hastily stepped back, not realizing there was a sofa behind her legs—she stumbled and fell backward onto it.
The bench she’d knocked over hit the polished marble floor with a loud “thud.”
People around them turned to look.
Meng Qiguang instinctively stepped forward to help Wen Tingli up; she dodged his hand. He glanced at her, then bent to right the fallen bench, saying mockingly, “What do you take me for? With me around, who’d dare touch Baoxin?”
Wen Tingli let out a breath of relief, straightening up in front of the sofa. “So she really is back in Shanghai?”
“Yes. I saw her at the Dahua Hotel yesterday.”
“Good. Nothing else, then—I won’t trouble you further.” She said this sincerely.
Meng Qiguang wasn’t looking at her, but glancing off to the side. Wen Tingli followed his gaze and saw Lu Shicheng and Gao Tingxin and the others passing by over there. Lu Shicheng didn’t so much as glance her way, as if he hadn’t noticed her at all.
But the commotion just now had been loud enough that there was no way Lu Shicheng hadn’t heard it.
“What are you looking at, afraid he’ll get the wrong idea?” Meng Qiguang laughed under his breath. “The man you chose doesn’t even trust you that much?”
Wen Tingli shot him a sidelong glance. Meng Qiguang’s tone was hard to place—teasing, or tempting: “No, actually, maybe you don’t care whether people misunderstand at all. Wen Tingli, has Lu Shicheng really conquered you? I doubt any man in this world could ever fully conquer your heart.”
She didn’t take the bait and turned to walk toward Mrs. Pan’s group.
The smile slowly faded from Meng Qiguang’s face.
“Little Wen, come over here—some ladies from Nanjing want to meet you, they’re all fans of yours.” Mrs. Pan had spotted Wen Tingli as well.
Wen Tingli went over and chatted with them for a while. Mrs. Pan, complaining of the heat, called over a servant carrying fruit and cold soda water. Wen Tingli, still on her diet, didn’t dare drink anything sweet, but a cup of freshly brewed plain tea happened to be on the tray, exactly to her taste, and she hastily picked it up.
“My, these oranges look so fresh,” Mrs. Pan said, eyeing another tray.
“These were just sent from Yunnan, sweeter than what you can find in the shops.” Mrs. Gao said with a smile. “Mrs. Pan, Miss Wen, Mrs. Li, you should all try some.”
Wen Tingli had loved oranges since childhood, and joined in, taking two. After chatting a bit more, she made an excuse and slipped away to find Lu Shicheng.
She couldn’t find Lu Shicheng anywhere. She finally made her way to the second-floor bridge room and suddenly heard voices inside.
“Why so distracted, Shouqian, take another good look—this is absolutely a sure profit.”
“I’ve looked. I’m afraid I’m just not interested.” This voice, steady and confident, was unmistakably Lu Shicheng’s.
Wen Tingli thought it over and decided to step away for a moment. Suddenly a gust of movement rushed at her from behind—she tensed and, without thinking, drove her elbow backward with force. But there was more than one person; they seized her from both sides at once, pinning her instantly immobile, while stuffing something like a handkerchief over her mouth.
Just at that moment, Lu Shicheng and Gao Tingxin seemed about to come out from inside. Wen Tingli tried desperately to make some noise toward them, but was dragged backward by the people gripping her.
There turned out to be a storage room behind her.
Everything had been arranged in advance, every step calculated—she didn’t even get a chance to draw her gun, no way out at all!
The more critical the moment, the more she needed to stay calm and composed. Wen Tingli’s mind raced, and she suddenly remembered she’d taken two small oranges from the fruit tray earlier—they were still clutched in her palm.
Before the storage room door could close, she didn’t hesitate—she opened her palm and flung the two small oranges as far as she could.
The oranges rolled across the mirror-smooth marble floor and out into the corridor, one landing right at Lu Shicheng’s feet, the other nearly crushed under Gao Tingxin’s foot.
“What’s this? An orange?” Gao Tingxin exclaimed, startled, pulling his foot back.
Lu Shicheng bent down and picked up the orange, scanning the surroundings.
Gao Tingxin thought nothing of it. “Probably some kid dropped it here. Let’s go.”
Lu Shicheng didn’t seem to notice anything amiss either, casually tossing the orange into an empty fruit bowl nearby before moving on.
Inside the storage room, the people holding her let out a breath of relief.
“Didn’t expect this girl to be so hard to handle. Wasn’t she already given the sedative? How does she still have the strength to throw things?”
“Maybe the drug hasn’t fully taken effect yet. Never mind, that Lu fellow didn’t take any notice either. Quick, get her inside, and go report to the master that we’ve succeeded.”
Downstairs, Meng Qiguang had just sat down to exchange a few words with Boss Xin of the Dachang Shipping Company when a servant approached with a tray, first bowing slightly toward Boss Xin. Boss Xin waved a hand. “No thanks, not fond of these foreign drinks.”
Meng Qiguang smiled and picked up a glass of champagne, about to drink, when something seemed to catch his notice—his gaze turned cold, and he looked up at the servant before him.
The servant kept his eyes lowered and did not meet Meng Qiguang’s gaze.
After a moment’s scrutiny, Meng Qiguang’s expression relaxed again, and he raised his glass, taking a casual sip right in front of the servant.
The servant’s expression eased, and he tucked the empty tray under his arm, withdrawing without another word.
Wen Tingli sensed someone laying her down on a bed. Judging from the conversation she’d overheard between those two men, someone had slipped a sedative into her drink that evening—most likely the hot tea.
Unfortunately, these people probably hadn’t counted on the fact that although she’d picked up the tea, she’d only sniffed its aroma. For one thing, she absolutely never ate or drank anything outside these days; for another, that servant’s way of looking at her had struck her as off—a kind of forced calm masking panic that most people might not have caught, but she happened to be a professional actress. At first she’d wondered if she was just being paranoid, but to be safe, she’d tipped the tea into the spittoon at the bottom of the stairs when no one was looking. Probably for that reason, she still hadn’t lost consciousness, and in fact felt quite clear-headed.
She had no idea where these people had carried her, and badly wanted to crack her eyes open to survey her surroundings, but a chaotic clatter of footsteps was approaching the bed—as if someone were carrying something heavy. She hastily closed her eyes again and feigned unconsciousness. Then the bedding beside her sank, and something was set down next to her.
That was clearly another person! Wen Tingli’s whole body went rigid; the situation seemed to be growing stranger and stranger—what were these people trying to do? Several people seemed to be gathered around the bed. If she recklessly leapt up to run at this moment, it might provoke an even fiercer attack—no, she couldn’t act rashly yet.
She heard the several people by the bed say in unison, “Master, Mistress.”
Someone else entered, walking straight toward the bed. The next moment, Wen Tingli sensed the person leaning down to examine her closely. She’d always had great confidence in her acting skills, and was certain they couldn’t tell she was only pretending to sleep.
As expected, the person let out a satisfied hum. “Have the reporters downstairs all been notified?”
Huh, why did that voice sound so familiar?
“Rest assured, master, it’s all been arranged.”
Another voice said hesitantly, “Master, isn’t this a bit rash? If we want revenge on Wen Tingli, why drag Qiguang into it too?”
Wen Tingli was startled—it really was Mr. and Mrs. Qiao!
“That’s exactly the point—dragging Qiguang into it. If we want the outside world not to suspect our Qiao family, do you have a better idea? I’ll explain it properly to Qiguang afterward. He’s a man—even if his name ends up in the papers alongside a woman’s, it’s no great harm. Besides, haven’t you long since noticed he’s fond of Wen Tingli? This way it’s practically doing him a favor too.”
“But—”
“Enough talk! Just thinking about how she encouraged Baoxin to run away from home makes me want to tear her limb from limb. Taking a few photographs and running a few news stories is already letting her off easy! If I weren’t worried about staining our Qiao family’s name, I’d throw her straight into the Huangpu River to feed the fish. Now strip the clothes off this shameless woman and move her closer, so she’s leaning against Qiguang.”
Someone began arranging Wen Tingli’s body. Wen Tingli secretly gathered her strength, ready to catch her attacker off guard and land a punch—but just then, the door was kicked open from outside.
The room erupted into chaos. Some tried to bolt, but the newcomers were quick and agile, subduing them all in an instant.
Amid the chaos, someone strode quickly to the bedside, shrugged off his coat, and bent down to cover Wen Tingli completely with it. After confirming there were no visible injuries on her, he swiftly lifted her up and set her down on a nearby sofa. Wen Tingli, eyes still closed, breathed in the familiar scent coming off him, and felt her clenched fists slowly relax.
She could hear Lu Shicheng’s heart pounding violently in his chest—whether from rage or fear, she couldn’t tell.
“Y-Young Master Lu, this is all a misunderstanding.” Mrs. Qiao stammered from across the room.
Lu Shicheng shot to his feet, grabbed Mr. Qiao by the collar, and slammed him hard to the floor.
“Husband!” Mrs. Qiao shrieked.
Lu Shicheng hauled Mr. Qiao back up and struck him again. Two blows and Mr. Qiao’s face was already a mess of bruises. Lu Shicheng looked ready to hit him again, but Gao Tingxin hurried over to hold him back. “Shicheng, calm down, that’s enough, enough! Keep this up and you’ll kill him!”
Lu Shicheng gripped Mr. Qiao’s collar and lifted him off the ground, his voice low and slow. “You listen to me carefully. In the past I let it go. From now on, if you dare touch her again, I will make sure your entire Qiao family never knows another day of peace—”
His tone was measured, neither raised nor lowered, but every word he spoke was sharp, cold, and utterly humiliating.
Before long, Mrs. Qiao broke down entirely, sobbing furiously and helplessly, while Mr. Qiao’s voice trembled with rage. “You—you brat, don’t think you can run wild just because the Lu family’s fortunes are on the rise now! Are you threatening me? Let me tell you, our Qiao family isn’t afraid of you!”
“You’re welcome to test that.” Lu Shicheng’s tone remained perfectly calm, yet it made Mr. Qiao shudder involuntarily. He tried to defend himself. “I, Qiao Libang, have never done anything against my conscience—why don’t you ask what she’s done—”
“Father.” Someone else burst into the room.
Mrs. Qiao looked at him as if he were her salvation. “Xingchu… you’ve come at just the right time.”
Lu Shicheng waited, expressionless, as if issuing a challenge, or perhaps simply waiting. Qiao Xingchu, cowed by the sharp, cold hostility in his gaze, couldn’t help averting his own eyes, lowering his head to ask his mother, “What in the world is going on here?”
“It’s all because of Wen Tingli,” Mrs. Qiao wept. “We only just found out that Baoxin left home because of her instigation. Your father was so angry he wanted to teach Wen Tingli a lesson, and then—”
Qiao Xingchu cut his mother off sharply. “Father, Mother, even now, don’t you two understand? The one who drove Baoxin away wasn’t anyone else—it was our own Qiao family! If you hadn’t insisted on forcing her to marry into the Zhou family, would she ever have stormed off in anger? If there’d been even a shred of freedom in this household, would Baoxin have been willing to leave home for a distant land? Wen Tingli did nothing more than fulfill her duty as a friend. Baoxin herself has said that during her hardest times, Wen Tingli repeatedly sent her money—”
Mr. Qiao raised his hand and slapped his own son across the face. Qiao Xingchu stood his ground, glaring at his father, neck stiff with defiance.
“So you knew everything all along!”
Lu Shicheng had no interest whatsoever in the Qiao father and son’s quarrel, and turned to walk back toward the sofa.
With nowhere to vent his frustration, Mr. Qiao sneered coldly at Lu Shicheng’s retreating back. “You think you’re not being played for a fool too? At the very start, it was this Wen woman who seduced our Xingchu—the students at Xiude Girls’ School can all attest to that—
“And later, because we wouldn’t approve of her and Xingchu, she went and carried on with Qiguang instead, got him so infatuated with her he still can’t let go, and yet the moment she saw you, she dropped him without a second thought!”
He coughed heavily, still talking through it. “I had someone dig up her whole background long ago. Liu Menglin of Gold Company gave her her big break, and yet she jumped ship without a second thought the moment it suited her—she’s terribly good at winning people over, too. Mrs. Pan, Dong Qinfang, Miss Gao—every one of them is willing to work for her benefit… And recently, to secure investment for her new film, she’s gone and hooked Miss Ge too! A woman this ambitious—doesn’t that frighten you at all? Men, friends, former employers, even romantic rivals—every one of them is just a rung on her ladder to climb. However grand and powerful your Lu family may be, to her, Young Master Lu here is probably nothing more than a stepping stone under her feet.”
Wen Tingli, seething with fury, was ready to leap out of Lu Shicheng’s arms and argue the point to the Qiao man’s face, when just then, Lu Shicheng’s voice rang out above her head.
“What gives you the right to call yourself more noble than her? What right do you have to judge her life?!”
Mr. Qiao froze where he stood.
“Ambitious?” Lu Shicheng let out a scornful laugh. “Why shouldn’t she be ambitious? I imagine in your mind, Mr. Qiao, the people of this world sort neatly into ranks—you fancy yourself among the ‘upper class,’ and so you look down on the ‘lower class.’ But the moment someone from the ‘lower class’ shows a bit of intelligence, a bit of effort, you’re quick to call it ambition and condemn it for it. In the end, that’s only because someone like that forces you to see your own weakness and incompetence reflected back at you. But she keeps rising higher and higher, and with nothing else you can do about it, you’re reduced to smearing her character with the most vicious language you can muster. Without doing that, you’d have no way to protect your own fragile pride. I truly pity you.”
Mr. and Mrs. Qiao trembled like sifting chaff, a rage and humiliation beyond anything they’d known before leaving them unable to utter a single word.
“Has no one ever told you the truth? You have always been nothing but dirt beneath her feet.” Lu Shicheng’s eyes were filled with contempt and mockery. As he spoke, he glanced, seemingly by chance, at Meng Qiguang lying unconscious on the bed. “Everyone in this room—not one of you is fit to hold a candle to her. If she wished it, the whole world could be a staircase beneath her feet.”
The room fell utterly silent.
Wen Tingli’s heart swelled with sweetness, and she couldn’t help cracking her eyelids open just a slit to look at Lu Shicheng.
As Lu Shicheng spoke his final words, Meng Qiguang, who had been unconscious on the bed the whole time, suddenly curled his fingers slightly. She thought at first she must be seeing things. She also noticed that Qiao Xingchu had been watching Lu Shicheng with an extremely complicated expression the entire time.
And so, she took in everyone’s condition, one by one, a strange sense of pride welling up inside her, and closed her eyes once more.
Lu Shicheng wrapped the coat around Wen Tingli’s head and face and carried her out of the room like that, cradled in his arms. Gao Tingxin hurried after them. “Shouqian, this way. The reporters have all been cleared out as you instructed. I’ve made sure no one will see you going down this side.”
Just as Gao Tingxin had said, this side path by the back door was entirely deserted; faint sounds of laughter drifted over from the direction of the front courtyard. As they walked, she heard him speak from above her head. “You can open your eyes now.”
She hurriedly poked her head out.
“How did you know I was awake?”
“When you kept squirming around trying to eavesdrop.”
Wen Tingli said nothing more, simply gazing at him quietly, her eyes seeming to hold a whole basin of stars, bright and full of love. But she only behaved herself for a moment before ducking her head back under the coat to hide again, her hands meanwhile poking around at him with great purpose. “Xu Shicheng—” Lu Shicheng started, “What are you looking for?”
“Cookies. I’m hungry, give me one.”
“Don’t have any today.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Really don’t.”
She searched all the more energetically. Lu Shicheng, with no free hand left to stop her, said, “Don’t paw around like that, they’re in my trouser pocket.”
She let out a burst of laughter, reaching her hand into his trouser pocket, and before long a soft crunching sound came from beneath the coat. Lu Shicheng listened to the sound, his heart scratching like a cat’s claw inside him, his eyes still fixed warily straight ahead, though the corner of his mouth couldn’t help curving upward. “You really are like a big cat.”