Zhuang Yusheng disliked that title; it felt awkward—even a bit grating.
He had been raised on the principle that no profession is inherently superior or inferior to another, and he had once believed this to be true. However, after realizing that his mother, Zhuang Guilan, held a job that society deemed undignified, no amount of high-minded rhetoric could change his mind.
It was a life of constantly bowing and scraping, running at everyone’s beck and call, and walking on eggshells; whether or not one received respect depended entirely on the employer’s own upbringing.
Even being called ‘Aunty’s son’ rather than ‘the nanny’s son’ would have felt better to Zhuang Yusheng. After all, while both roles involved getting paid for a service, ‘Aunty’ implied lending a helping hand, whereas ‘nanny’ suggested mere servitude—an inherently inferior status.
Yet, Zhuang Yusheng knew full well that this wasn’t the root cause of his discomfort.
If anyone else present had called him the son of the Xu family’s nanny, he wouldn’t have minded; he would have simply gone about helping Zhuang Guilan, as well-behaved as ever.
Ultimately, it was because he had mentally singled Xu Siming out—viewing him as someone of particular interest. He had maintained a reserved demeanor the whole way, hoping not to make a bad impression, only for reality to show him that his restraint was nothing more than affectation. He had smugly told himself he was different from the people clamoring for Xu Siming’s WeChat ID—and he was different, all right: he was the one left carrying the man’s shoes.
Later, whenever Zhuang Yusheng looked back on his first meeting with Xu Siming, he realized that the inexplicable hostility he’d felt over that comment stemmed largely from the fact that they were the same age; the vast disparity between their lives had only deepened his sense of resentment.
Zhuang Yusheng didn’t reply; he walked over to the restroom stall and handed the suit and leather shoes to Xu Siming. “Here.”
He didn’t forget to add, ‘Young Master.’
Xu Siming glanced at the stall and said, “There’s no hook inside. Hold onto these for a moment.”
Zhuang Yusheng agreed.
While Xu Siming changed clothes, Zhuang Yusheng took out his phone and searched for keywords on social media, quickly finding the video he had watched countless times before. Come to think of it, the reason Xu Siming looked familiar wasn’t because Zhuang Yusheng had seen the Xu family’s portrait—in fact, he rarely visited their home; he avoided going there whenever possible.
It was actually because of a viral video from a Major League Baseball game. A batter had hit a spectacular home run, and the ball was hurtling toward the stands at high speed, seemingly about to strike a little girl. Panic washed over the faces of the nearby spectators, but then, someone reached out and caught the ball barehanded, instantly turning their terror into cheers.
The young man who made the catch was handsome; he shook out his wrist afterward, revealing just how much force the ball had carried. He handed the ball to the little girl, who thanked him with eyes full of delight, and he smiled back in response.
In the slow-motion replay, the young man’s teeth appeared white and perfectly aligned. When he smiled, the faint line where his teeth met looked like the leaping trace of an electrocardiogram—radiating a vibrant vitality and an air of refinement that only someone raised in privilege could exude.
The video went viral naturally because the young man was both handsome and gentlemanly. Zhuang Yusheng had even added him to his personal ‘roster’ at the time, assigning him the codename ‘Bite Line.’
Like everyone else in the comments section, he had wondered if the young man had any social media accounts, but a search turned up nothing.
However, the young man’s identity was soon uncovered: he was Xu Siming, the grandson of the founder of a high-end domestic medical institution.
While the public only knew that Xu Siming was a ‘third-generation heir’ born and raised in the U.S.—an exemplary student with a sterling reputation—Zhuang Yusheng knew a bit more, thanks to his connection with Zhuang Guilan.
Xu Siming’s father had refused to follow the family path into medicine; instead, he went to the U.S. to work and study, eventually becoming an engineer. His mother was a Chinese lawyer who had risen from obscurity to achieve great renown across the country. The family lived a prosperous life abroad without needing support from the Xu family; his father had no interest in inheriting the family business, and Xu Siming was even less inclined to do so.
Zhuang Yusheng eventually stopped paying attention to Xu Siming, as the young man had no social media presence and the family rarely returned to China. Although the two appeared close in their social circles, in reality, they were worlds apart—separated by half the globe—and there was no real reason for them to pay attention to one another.
It wasn’t until Xu Ruomei was laid to rest recently—during a small, private ceremony for the Xu family that Zhuang Yusheng wasn’t entitled to attend—that he learned of the situation. He knew Xu Siming’s family had returned, but he had assumed they had already flown back out; he hadn’t expected Xu Siming to stay behind as an exchange student.
As Zhuang Yusheng handed Xu Siming his clothes, he gazed idly at the bamboo grove outside the bathroom window. He realized that the reason he hadn’t recognized the young master of the Xu family immediately was simply because he hadn’t seen him smile.
Had he seen that smile, he surely would have recognized the specific line of his bite. He could have told Zhuang Guilan that his lecture was running late and he couldn’t make it to the funeral—thereby avoiding the task of holding the young master’s clothes and shoes right now.
Xu Siming had finished changing into his suit; he looked a touch more mature, though Zhuang Yusheng no longer had the heart to appreciate his good looks.
He handed a black mourning armband to Xu Siming. “Wear it on your left arm.”
As he put it on, Xu Siming asked, “Let me ask you something.”
Zhuang Yusheng, caught off guard, replied, “What is it?”
Xu Siming continued, “I recall your mother saying you were majoring in finance.”
Zhuang Yusheng remained silent. It came as no surprise to him that Ms. Zhuang Guilan would boast to anyone who would listen about having a son studying finance at a top university.
Xu Siming pressed on, “So why do you say your major is Chinese Language and Literature?”
Zhuang Yusheng didn’t want to answer. Just then, he noticed that while Xu Siming had put the armband on, the character “奠” (Mourning) [1][奠] (Dian) ; The word that commonly seen in Chinese funerals.
Definition from the Chinese word means that the most precious wine and food are offered to the deceased during the period from death … Continue reading jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3362213_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3362213_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });was slightly askew. He seized the chance to change the subject. “It’s crooked.”
Xu Siming glanced at his arm; seemingly thinking there was a specific protocol to follow, he said to Zhuang Yusheng, “You can just adjust it for me.”
Hold my clothes.
Adjust my armband.
As a student of Chinese Language and Literature, Zhuang Yusheng was particularly sensitive to language. While it was normal for friends to use the imperative ‘do this for me,’ the disparity in their social standing made the command in Xu Siming’s tone unmistakable. He casually adjusted his armband and handed over the clothes Xu Siming had just changed out of: “Strictly speaking, my mom is an employee of your family, but I’m not.”
So don’t go bossing me around.
Xu Siming glanced at the clothes, then at Zhuang Yusheng, without moving. “Am I supposed to carry them myself?”
What an entitled young master.
Although Zhuang Yusheng acted tough—displaying an attitude of never bowing to the capitalist class—he didn’t want to cause trouble for Ms. Zhuang. So, he dutifully picked up Xu Siming’s clothes and shoes and headed out of the restroom. “Forget it; I don’t want to get nagged by my mom.”
He shouldn’t have kept bringing up Zhuang Guilan; Xu Siming seized on the topic he had previously managed to gloss over: “Why doesn’t she know what major you’re studying?”
Zhuang Yusheng quickened his pace. “That’s none of your business.”
Xu Siming, with his long legs, easily kept pace beside him. “I’m just curious why you’d lie to her. She seems like a really nice person.”
Zhuang Yusheng was getting annoyed. Had he known Xu Siming’s identity beforehand, he certainly wouldn’t have answered so readily when asked about his major. He frowned at Xu Siming. “You surely don’t have so much free time that you’d go tell my mom about this, do you?”
Xu Siming gave a noncommittal response. “Are you asking me to keep a secret for you?”
Yes—this was Zhuang Yusheng’s second-biggest secret, though compared to his biggest secret, it was nothing.
Zhuang Yusheng suddenly stopped walking and asked, “Are you going to change back into those clothes later?”
Xu Siming, puzzled, stopped as well. “I am. Why?”
Zhuang Yusheng simply said, “Never mind,” without explaining why he’d asked.
The ceremony began on schedule. The Abbot of Changqing Temple—a figure of great prestige and authority—personally chanted the sutras. The Xu family bowed solemnly, and the guests stood in silent mourning; the resonant, sacred chanting echoed through the hall, seemingly guiding the soul of the deceased on its journey.
As neither guests nor family members, Zhuang Guilan and Zhuang Yusheng had to remain in a corner of the Buddha hall, watching the ceremony from afar. “Old Master Xu is really failing now; he had to use a wheelchair just to get around.” Zhuang Guilan, having been busy all morning, finally found a moment to rest and struck up a quiet conversation with Zhuang Yusheng.
Zhuang Yusheng glanced at the frail old man in the wheelchair and lowered his voice as well. “Wasn’t he taking some kind of innovative anti-cancer drug?”
The sound of chanting sutras drowned out everything else, ensuring their casual chat wouldn’t disturb the funeral proceedings.
Zhuang Guilan sighed. “It wasn’t exactly a miracle cure; it only worked for a few months before he started going downhill again.”
Zhuang Yusheng pursed his lips in regret. The Xu family’s high-end wellness center had seen countless people off on their final journeys, yet in the end, the turn had come for Old Master Xu himself.
“Still, it’s a good thing the son-in-law is such a decent man—he’s been so devoted to the Old Master.” Zhuang Guilan’s eyes filled with admiration as she spoke of him. “He personally organized this entire funeral; he put so much heart into it.”
The son-in-law she referred to was Shen Mu—a renowned writer who had married into the Xu family and was the husband of the deceased.
At that moment, Shen Mu was standing beside Old Master Xu. Dressed in a refined black suit, he wore silver-framed glasses that couldn’t quite conceal the sorrow etched across his brow.
Zhuang Yusheng remained noncommittal regarding this assessment, but Zhuang Guilan continued on her own accord. “Young Master Xu is quite sensible, too. When the Old Master wanted him to stay and keep him company, he simply transferred schools to be here.”
Zhuang Yusheng had already guessed that Xu Siming stayed primarily because the Old Master’s time was running out; he wanted to stand in for his parents and accompany the old man through his final days. Zhuang Guilan, however, didn’t quite grasp the nuance—an exchange program was different from a permanent transfer; once the semester ended or the Old Master passed away, Xu Siming would likely return to the United States.
“Oh, right,” Zhuang Guilan suddenly remembered something. “How did you two come here together? Did you meet at school?”
“He was attending the same lecture, and we just happened to run into each other.” Zhuang Yusheng, wanting to avoid questions about the lecture’s content, added, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner that Xu Siming was back? I didn’t even recognize him on the way here.”
“I thought you didn’t care about the Xu family’s affairs,” Zhuang Guilan said, stealing a glance at Zhuang Yusheng’s expression. “Besides, what would be the point of telling you? Even if you ran into him at school, you’d just pretend not to know him.”
Zhuang Guilan knew her son too well; she was aware that he disliked her job and hated the idea of her waiting on others. Consequently, she often treaded carefully when mentioning her employers, terrified of upsetting him.
Of course, Zhuang Yusheng wasn’t heartless. He usually felt a pang of guilt at moments like this, realizing he demanded too much of her—after all, raising him single-handedly had been no easy feat.
Yet, certain past and present events tended to dilute that guilt. Just moments ago, for instance, she had asked him to carry Xu Siming’s shoes. Putting that together with her current remark, Zhuang Yusheng couldn’t help but think: If you know I’m going to pretend not to know him, why are you ordering me to wait on him?
Still, he kept these thoughts to himself; he was long accustomed to this sort of thing. Ms. Zhuang was simply a blunt, easygoing woman—the kind who didn’t let things weigh on her mind, which was probably why she’d live to be a hundred.
Zhuang Yusheng asked, “Why didn’t Old Master Xu arrange for someone to pick up his precious grandson?”
“You think the Xu family is still as rich as they used to be?” Zhuang Guilan went on to explain how the family had suffered losses from failed real estate investments a few years back and had closed hospitals in many second- and third-tier cities; they were no longer the powerhouse they once were. That said, even a starving camel is bigger than a horse—the Xu family’s high-end wellness hospitals remained the top choice for the elite, giving them continued clout in political and business circles, even if their lifestyle was no longer quite so lavish.
“I used to take a Rolls-Royce just to go grocery shopping,” Zhuang Guilan complained. “Now I have to settle for a Mercedes.”
Zhuang Yusheng chuckled. “You’re getting picky, aren’t you?”
Zhuang Guilan shot back instantly, “If you bought me a Mercedes, I wouldn’t be picky at all.”
She said this with a smug look on her face, as if that wish were about to come true any moment. The smile on Zhuang Yusheng’s face faltered; he found Zhuang Guilan’s words a bit of a buzzkill, but he still replied, “Alright, I’ll buy it for you once I make a fortune.”
“I really think you ought to cozy up to Young Master Xu,” Zhuang Guilan said, launching into another round of career planning for him. “You’ll be in the same line of work, after all, and I hear connections are everything in finance.”
Zhuang Yusheng wanted to point out that every profession relies on connections, Mother.
He couldn’t be bothered to argue, so Zhuang Guilan kept chattering away: “Don’t think I’m just nagging; I only want what’s best for you. If you want to get ahead in life, you have to know when to bend and when to stand tall…”
Zhuang Yusheng cut her off: “Did you take your blood pressure medication?”
Zhuang Guilan retorted, “You don’t need to worry about my affairs.”
Zhuang Yusheng replied, “I could say the exact same thing to you.”
Zhuang Guilan exclaimed, “Hey, you cheeky kid!”
The guests were all busy people; the funeral rites didn’t drag on, and everyone soon moved to the dining hall for a vegetarian meal.
The atmosphere here was far less solemn than in the shrine hall, and the guests weren’t bound by the Buddhist rule of silence during meals; some chatted idly, while others discussed business.
The vegetarian food was truly bland. Zhuang Yusheng ate absentmindedly, glancing occasionally toward the Xu family. As more guests began to leave, the man in silver-rimmed glasses picked up his phone; moments later, an expected message popped up on Zhuang Yusheng’s screen.
[Shen Mu: Ride back in my car later.]
The tasteless food became even harder to swallow. Zhuang Yusheng discreetly glanced at Xu Siming—who was finishing his meal—and typed a reply: [There’s something I want to tell you. Let’s go to the bamboo grove behind the Hall of Longevity.]
[Shen Mu: We’ll talk at my place.]
Zhuang Yusheng kept his eyes on Xu Siming while typing back to Shen Mu: [I want to clear the air before we go there.]
Not far away, Shen Mu raised his eyebrows as he looked at his phone; his eyes were obscured behind the glare on his lenses.
His phone vibrated. [Shen Mu: Okay]
Zhuang Yusheng made an excuse about going to the restroom and returned alone to the Hall of Longevity. The hall was completely empty at the time; there wasn’t even a monk around to sweep the floors.
He walked along the covered corridor to the restroom where Xu Siming had changed clothes earlier, then passed through the arched doorway outside the restroom to exit the hall, arriving at a bamboo grove behind the perimeter wall.
Shen Mu arrived shortly after.
He glanced through the arched doorway toward the hall to ensure no one else was coming before asking Zhuang Yusheng, “What did you want to say?”
Shen Mu clearly wanted to get this over with quickly and didn’t want to waste time there, but Zhuang Yusheng needed the conversation to last as long as possible. So, feigning hesitation, he asked a rather sensitive question: “Teacher Shen… how did your wife… die?”
Hearing this, Shen Mu let out a laugh that sounded almost absurd. “You don’t think I was the one who killed her, do you?”
Zhuang Yusheng frowned and remained silent, looking deeply worried and unsettled.
Shen Mu couldn’t stand seeing him like that; it made his heart ache. He wrapped his arm around Zhuang Yusheng’s shoulders and explained gently, “You know she was bedridden for a long time; developing blood clots is a common occurrence. Once a clot breaks loose, it can be fatal in a matter of moments.”
Years ago, after the death of their infant daughter, Xu Ruomei had suffered from severe depression and was admitted to a private psychiatric hospital owned by the Xu family.
Her condition fluctuated; when she was stable, she could return home and live a relatively normal life for a while. However, during bad spells—like in recent months—she exhibited severe self-destructive tendencies. She had to be sedated or strapped to her bed, otherwise, she would find ways to attempt suicide.
Zhuang Yusheng had long known that Xu Ruomei had passed away from a pulmonary embolism—an accident.
The issue, however, was that he had been playing along with Shen Mu—feigning cooperation to avoid offending him—while using Xu Ruomei as a convenient shield. Whenever Shen Mu made an improper advance, Zhuang Yusheng would bring up Xu Ruomei, saying things like, “That wouldn’t be fair to your wife” or “I don’t want to go against my morals.” He managed to string Shen Mu along for two years with this “play hard-to-get” routine.
As the expiration of their agreement drew near, Shen Mu’s patience wore thin; he became desperate to possess Zhuang Yusheng. And then—
Xu Ruomei suddenly died. Zhuang Yusheng’s shield was gone.
Could it really be such a coincidence?
“I feel uneasy,” Zhuang Yusheng said, stealing a glance at a window not far away. “It’s her funeral today. Do you think she’s watching us from somewhere?”
“Since when do you believe in ghosts and spirits?” Shen Mu smiled. “We didn’t wrong her, so there’s no need to be afraid.”
Zhuang Yusheng hadn’t wronged Xu Ruomei, certainly—but Shen Mu was constantly seizing every opportunity to grope him. How could he say something like that?
Suppressing the nausea rising in his stomach, Zhuang Yusheng asked cautiously, “Teacher Shen, did her condition worsening really have nothing to do with you?”
“Xiao Yu,” Shen Mu sighed, sounding exasperated. “I did enough. I never let her or her family down. Now that she’s gone and we can finally be together, surely you don’t expect me to observe a three-year mourning period as a widower?”
Zhuang Yusheng remained silent. Seeing his reaction, Shen Mu’s patience finally ran out; he adjusted his silver-rimmed glasses and said in a low, stern voice, “Don’t forget—you were the one who seduced me first.”
Zhuang Yusheng wanted to retort: Is breathing considered seduction?
He had merely smiled, yet Shen Mu had reacted like a dog in heat—was he really to blame for that?
But he couldn’t voice these thoughts. He couldn’t defy Shen Mu—at least, not for the time being.
He had realized that prestigious magazines would only publish the utter drivel written by the children of famous authors; without connections, it was impossible to get anywhere in this society.
And Shen Mu was the only stepping stone within his reach.
“I understand, Teacher Shen,” Zhuang Yusheng said.
The two of them left the bamboo grove one after the other. As they passed the restroom near the Hall of Longevity, Zhuang Yusheng deliberately paused—not to put distance between himself and Shen Mu, who was walking ahead, but to verify something.
He took a deep breath and parted the fabric curtain of the men’s restroom. His gaze went straight to the window at the far end, revealing the bamboo grove swaying in the breeze outside.
There wasn’t a sound from the stalls; it was so quiet one could almost hear the sandalwood incense burning. So…
Hadn’t Xu Siming come over?
Zhuang Yusheng’s heart sank; he was running out of options.
There was no way he was going to sleep with Shen Mu. He had hoped to keep stalling and bluffing his way through, but judging by Shen Mu’s attitude earlier, making excuses wouldn’t work anymore.
Did he really have to have a falling out with Shen Mu? But if he did, all his efforts over the past two years would go to waste…
Suddenly, a suit jacket was draped over the top of a stall door, followed by a white shirt, and then a pair of black trousers.
Judging by the style, it was the exact outfit Zhuang Yusheng had fetched for Xu Siming.
In other words, Xu Siming was in the stall right then and there.
Zhuang Yusheng let out a sudden sigh of relief, lowered the curtain, and returned to the dining hall.
After the meal, the guests departed, and the Xu family made their way to the parking lot. Since not everyone was returning to the original starting point, Shen Mu began coordinating the carpool arrangements—deciding who would ride with whom and who would drop whom off.
Old Master Xu was heading to the hospital for chemotherapy and would share a car with the family doctor; Zhuang Guilan needed to return to the Xu residence to handle chores and prepare dinner, so other relatives would give her a lift back.
Finally, Shen Mu issued his arrangements with practiced ease: “Siming, you accompany Grandpa to the hospital. Xiao Yu, you ride with me; I’ll drop you back at school.”
He thoughtfully opened the front passenger door, signaling for Zhuang Yusheng to get in, but Zhuang Yusheng didn’t move; he was waiting. The idea of letting Xu Siming stumble upon the ‘illicit’ relationship between himself and Shen Mu occurred to Zhuang Yusheng right when Xu Siming had promised to ‘keep his secret.’
Since Xu Siming already knew his second-biggest secret, why not simply let him know even more?
It was still the tail end of summer in early September, and the weather was sweltering; there was no reason for Xu Siming to remain in formal attire after the ceremony ended—he would likely change back into casual clothes. In this unfamiliar temple, finding a restroom in another area would be a hassle, and the conditions or crowd levels there would be uncertain. Therefore, he would most likely return to the restroom he had already visited—the one in the Hall of Longevity—to change.
Earlier, when Zhuang Yusheng had arrived, he noticed a bamboo grove outside the window; the spot was secluded, yet not entirely so. He had deliberately summoned Shen Mu there and positioned their conversation at a carefully calculated distance from the window—close enough that, should Xu Siming come to change, the volume of their voices would guarantee he heard them.
But what if Xu Siming didn’t come, or if someone else showed up instead?
For one thing, the guests weren’t in this area, so the likelihood of others wandering by was slim. Furthermore, regardless of whether Xu Siming appeared, Zhuang Yusheng had to take the chance; to save himself, he had no choice but to resort to a risky gambit.
Fortunately, things went according to plan: Xu Siming arrived at the Hall of Longevity just as Zhuang Yusheng had anticipated. And so, the next step…
A person who would step in to save a little girl was, at the very least, a decent human being with a moral compass. Even if he had the typical quirks of a young master from a wealthy family, could he really turn a blind eye after stumbling upon such a sordid affair?
Especially when it involved his own family’s private business.
Zhuang Yusheng didn’t have to wait long—half a second, to be precise—before Xu Siming, with his long strides, stepped into the passenger seat of Shen Mu’s car. “I’m heading back to school too, Uncle-in-law.”
As he spoke, he cast a subtle, scrutinizing glance at Zhuang Yusheng, as if to say, That seat doesn’t belong to you.
At that moment, Zhuang Yusheng was absolutely certain: Xu Siming had overheard the conversation between him and Shen Mu. Shen Mu maintained a smile. “Aren’t you going to the hospital to keep Grandpa company?”
Old Master Xu, moving slowly, hadn’t yet gotten into the car; he waved his hand and said, “There’s no need for company during chemotherapy—just head back to school.”
Shen Mu adjusted his glasses and closed the car door, his expression unreadable. Zhuang Yusheng took the initiative to sit in the back seat and said politely, “Sorry for the trouble, Teacher Shen.”
References[+]
[奠] (Dian) ; The word that commonly seen in Chinese funerals.
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