The room was enveloped in darkness.
Gu Wangshu did not turn on the light, simply leaning against the headboard cushion with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
The curtains were drawn tightly, blocking out the neon lights and clamor of the night outside. Only the faintest sounds of traffic seeped through the gaps, like a subtle, almost imperceptible underground river.
On the day she came back to life, she had anticipated that there would come a day when she would see Zhong Jiming again.
She just hadn’t expected it to be so soon.
During this time, she had been quietly piecing together the puzzle of the past decade.
From newspapers, she learned about the developments in Hong Kong and the mainland over these ten years. The Sino-British negotiations had concluded, and the countdown to Hong Kong’s handover had begun.
The Hang Seng Index rose and fell, with the stock and property markets resembling two bulls being led by the nose—no one could predict which direction they would charge next.
She had inquired about her brother Gu Xiuyuan’s situation. After the reinstatement of the college entrance examination, her brother was admitted to the Chinese Department of Peking University and returned to Beijing. After graduation, he was assigned to the Ministry of Culture.
As for which department he worked in or what his specific duties were, Aunt Wen wasn’t entirely clear.
She had also subtly probed into the lives of her uncle and aunt.
Her second uncle, Gu Bingwen, now firmly controlled Xinda Group and was one of Hong Kong’s top-ranked business tycoons.
Xinda had expanded rapidly over the years, starting from import-export trade and moving into real estate and hotels. Two years ago, it even ventured into finance, opening a securities company in Central.
In the Hong Kong business world of 1987, there were only a handful of Chinese-owned enterprises that could rank in the top ten. Although Xinda’s foundation couldn’t compare to the Li or Pao families, it had the advantage of playing both sides—maintaining connections with the Hong Kong British government while also having ties to the Zhong family up north. It was thriving, riding the wave of success.
Aside from his second wife, Yang Huijuan, Second Uncle also had a female secretary surnamed Cheng, named Cheng Minhua, who had been with him for many years.
On the surface, it was a professional relationship, but everyone in their circles knew it was more than that.
Cheng Minhua was beautiful and efficient in her work. It was said that several of Xinda’s important deals had been brokered by her. Second Uncle relied on her heavily and doted on her, even buying her a house in Repulse Bay a couple of years ago.
As for Aunt Ming Lan, her daily life revolved around two things: mahjong and socializing.
She had a regular group of mahjong friends, all wealthy ladies of similar status.
Among them were the third wife of a shipping magnate, the daughter of a textile tycoon, and two mixed-race socialites married to foreigners.
They gathered at least three times a week, rotating locations—today at a clubhouse in Happy Valley, tomorrow at a villa on the Peak, and the day after perhaps heading to Macau for a few rounds.
Winning or losing at the mahjong table was secondary; what mattered was gathering to gossip.
Whose husband was causing trouble outside again, whose son was embroiled in a scandal with a Filipino maid, whose daughter had married someone who was all show and no substance—such news circulated faster at the mahjong table than in the newspapers.
From the butler, Uncle Liu, she learned about Xinda Group’s development over the years and the status of some of her grandfather’s former associates.
Gu Wangshu asked skillfully, not as if she were probing for information but rather like an amnesiac child trying to recover her lost memories.
Uncle Liu felt sorry for her and shared a bit more.
Yet, she had never once asked about her ex-husband.
However, judging from that brief glimpse in the lobby earlier, Zhong Jiming must have been doing quite well these years, right?
That figure—through the entire lobby, blocked by Zhong Jinghe—she had only caught a vague silhouette.
But that silhouette was all too familiar to her. The way he walked, unhurried and deliberate, always with that unflappable composure, as if the sky could fall and it would have nothing to do with him.
The way he patted Zhong Jinghe’s shoulder, casual and natural, carrying the unspoken closeness of an elder toward a younger.
His voice, just those few words, even through the glass door, made her heart skip a beat.
Back in Beijing, many people had said, openly or in whispers, that she, this sickly invalid, was nothing but a burden to Zhong Jiming.
With the Zhong family’s status, what kind of woman couldn’t he find? Yet he was tied down by an old marriage agreement with the Gu family, marrying a medicine jar who was in and out of the hospital every other day, unable to bear children for the Zhongs. Who wouldn’t feel it was a loss?
Some of those words were said to her face, some behind her back, some disguised as concern and spoken for her to hear.
Now that she was gone, had Zhong Jiming long since embraced a lovely wife and had both sons and daughters?
Now, curled up in this dark hotel room, having lived a second life, those words still clung like roots in some corner of her heart. They no longer hurt, but the scars remained.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.
Enough. No more thinking.
Knock, knock, knock.
Someone was at the door.
Gu Wangshu snapped out of her thoughts, walked barefoot across the carpet, and opened the door.
It was Zhang Ziyu.
Peering into the room, she paused in surprise.
“Are you resting already?” Zhang Ziyu frowned. “Why are the lights off?”
Gu Wangshu stepped aside to let her in while reaching to flip the switch on the wall.
As the light came on, both of them squinted briefly.
“I was just lying down for a bit,” Gu Wangshu said, her voice flat, betraying nothing unusual.
Zhang Ziyu paid no mind. She strode in, plopped herself onto the bed, kicked off her sandals, and crossed her legs.
She gave Gu Wangshu a once-over. “Have you eaten dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you have an interview scheduled with Mr. Bai this afternoon?” Gu Wangshu sat down on the edge of the bed. “Is it over?”
At the mention, Zhang Ziyu’s expression shifted.
“Don’t even ask!” She tossed her notebook onto the bed.
“We were halfway through the interview, right at a crucial point. I asked him about his views on the investment environment in the mainland. He had just started, speaking perfectly fine, when his assistant knocked and came in, whispered something in his ear—something about Mr. Zhong arriving. Then Bai Qingyuan said to me, ‘Miss Zhang, I’m sorry, but we’ll have to stop here today. Another time, I’ll treat you to a meal to make it up to you.’”
She spread her hands, looking exasperated. “Just like that, he brushed me off. I’m a journalist—it took me two weeks to schedule this interview. It’s infuriating.”
Gu Wangshu listened quietly without interrupting.
At this point, Zhang Ziyu suddenly lowered her voice, leaned forward, and moved closer to Gu Wangshu.
“Xixi, guess who that Mr. Zhong is?”
Gu Wangshu lowered her gaze, her eyelashes casting a small shadow under the light, her expression hard to read.
“Who is it?” she asked softly.
Zhang Ziyu raised an index finger and wagged it from side to side. “I asked Bai Qingyuan’s assistant about it. Don’t think that assistant is usually tight-lipped—I treated him to two Marlboros and said a bunch of nice things before he finally loosened up. It was your brother-in-law from Beijing.”
Brother-in-law.
The term made Gu Wangshu’s fingertips curl slightly.
“Ziyu, I remember you mentioned before,” Gu Wangshu looked up, “that Mr. Bai’s sister married into a family in Beijing?”
“That’s right,” Zhang Ziyu nodded. “His sister is named Bai Qingyao. Both she and Bai Qingyuan are from the main branch of the Bai family.”
“Come to think of it, she was actually my senior in middle school—she studied at St. Paul’s. But by the time I enrolled, she had already graduated. I only heard others mention her, saying she was very beautiful and did well in her studies. Later, she went to study in the UK, and the next big news I heard about her was that she married into a family in Beijing.”
“Do you know which family she married into?”
Zhang Ziyu tilted her head and thought for a moment. “I think the surname was Lin. I really don’t remember the exact name, but…” She changed her tone, her eyebrows knitting together as she wore a thoughtful expression.
“But somehow, I feel there’s something strange about your brother-in-law seeking out Mr. Bai.”
Gu Wangshu remained expressionless. “Oh? What’s strange about it?”
“Think about it. One is a high-ranking official from Beijing, the other is a wealthy businessman from Hong Kong. Under normal circumstances, these two would avoid even the slightest hint of impropriety. Even if there were some collaboration, they’d go through intermediaries, putting on a proper show and maintaining appearances. How could they possibly meet secretly in a hotel in Shenzhen?”
“And think about it again. In terms of closeness, the Zhong family and your Gu family are the ones with a proper marital connection. Xinda Group has been doing business in Hong Kong for so many years, and their operations overlap with the Bai family’s. If Zhong Jiming wanted to do something in Hong Kong or Shenzhen, approaching your Gu family would be the most legitimate move, right? Instead, he bypassed your family entirely and went straight to Bai Qingyuan…”
She raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that strange?”
Gu Wangshu lowered her gaze, as if carefully digesting every word Zhang Ziyu had said.
“If you put it that way, it does seem quite strange.” She paused and looked at Zhang Ziyu. “Ziyu, is it really unknown to outsiders that my cousin and the Zhong family are divorced?”
Zhang Ziyu widened her eyes. “If you hadn’t mentioned it to me last time, I wouldn’t have known at all! When you told me, I was stunned for a while. Over here in Hong Kong, it seems no one really knows about this. When people talk about your Gu family, they all know you have connections up north…” She made a “you know what I mean” expression.
Gu Wangshu thought for a moment before suddenly changing the subject.
“My family just called. I have to return to Hong Kong tomorrow and won’t be able to stay here with you.”
Zhang Ziyu waved her hand dismissively. “No worries. I’m swamped with work too—a bunch of interviews lined up. You go back without worrying about me. I can handle myself just fine in Shenzhen.”
“Ziyu, there’s something I’d like to ask of you.”
Sensing the change in Gu Wangshu’s tone, Zhang Ziyu also dropped her playful demeanor, straightening her posture to look at her. “Just say it.”
“You have wide connections and know a lot of people,” Gu Wangshu’s voice was soft, but each word was spoken clearly. “I’d like to ask you to help me look into the Zhong family, especially… Zhong Jiming.”
Zhang Ziyu was slightly taken aback upon hearing this.
“Logically speaking, your two families are related by marriage. Shouldn’t you know more about these matters than I do?”
Gu Wangshu’s gaze did not waver; she looked at her calmly. “As you said, that’s only ‘logically speaking.’ Besides, you know my situation—I’ve forgotten many things.”
“Ah, don’t bring up your amnesia again,” Zhang Ziyu said briskly. “Alright, alright, I’ll help you find out.”
“There’s one more thing.”
“Go ahead.”
“Do you know any reliable private detectives? Can you recommend one?” Gu Wangshu continued. “I know you’re a journalist—you must have connections in this area.”
Zhang Ziyu was truly stunned this time.
“What do you need a private detective for?”
The corner of Gu Wangshu’s mouth curved slightly, though it could hardly be called a smile.
“I want to deal with someone.”
“Who?”
“Yang Huijuan’s nephew.”