Much like in a palace drama, after such a massive uproar in front of the emperor, the palace quieted down once again, and everyone appeared to be living in peace. The weekly family dinner continued to be harmonious and joyous. The eldest branch didn’t dare to do anything to Cheng Baoyi, but they didn’t offer Tang Shen any pleasant looks either; only Cheng Keqi remained gentle and friendly toward her.
Tang Shen heard Cheng Baoyi say that her brother-in-law no longer dared to hold her back, and although the eldest sister still pulled small tricks behind the scenes, she was at least friendly on the surface. Tang Shen remarked that they were also afraid she might genuinely turn the tables one day. Cheng Baoyi sighed, marveling at how realistic people could be. Tang Shen smiled; human society had always been this way. There was no need to overthink it—she just needed to grow stronger.
Tang Shen appeared to have no grand ambitions, yet she occasionally let slip a touch of Social Darwinism. She communicated with Cheng Baoyi this way, just as she had—past and present—spoken to the children. She urged the children to focus single-mindedly on practicing their internal kung fu, leaving all other matters to be considered later.
That day, she brought stationery for the children. As she walked out of the classroom, she spotted an unfamiliar teacher from afar. The other woman was leaning against the brick wall, holding a notebook in her hands without actually reading it, simply gazing at a corner of the playground. Teacher Zhao walked past, snapped her fingers in front of her, and teased, “Daydreaming again?” The other woman looked embarrassed and lowered her head.
That was Tang Shen’s first time seeing Wang Jingchun, and the impression she left behind was: gentle, delicate, introverted, and shy.
Teacher Zhao told Tang Shen that Wang Jingchun was a local from Macau whose family ran a local tea restaurant, and she had come to the mainland to teach English to the children. Today was her last day of class, and the two of them could head back together.
So Tang Shen went to invite Wang Jingchun. Wang Jingchun nodded and said “Okay” in a soft, tiny voice. Even though they were traveling companions, she spoke as though she had received some immense favor, her every gesture exuding the sense that she was “putting you to so much trouble.”
On the return trip, the driver played music—Tyson Yoshi’s Millionaire, singing of an ordinary person’s glittering ambitions. Since the two weren’t well acquainted, their conversation along the way centered entirely on the children of Starlight Elementary School. Tang Shen noticed Wang Jingchun leaning sideways against the car window, as if trying to avoid something. Reaching out, she realized that side of the vehicle was freezing. On the direct coach bus, the air conditioning couldn’t be adjusted. Tang Shen said, “Let’s switch seats.” Wang Jingchun once again wore a look of flattered astonishment, repeating over and over that it wasn’t necessary. Tang Shen took off her jacket and draped it over her shoulders, saying before she could politely decline, “I run hot, you wear it.” Wang Jingchun smiled faintly.
When the bus arrived at the border checkpoint, Wang Jingchun asked where she lived, and Tang Shen gave her the address. She didn’t specify the exact details, but Wang Jingchun’s complexion instantly turned pale.
Tang Shen asked, “Do you know people over there?”
“…No, I’ve just been around the neighborhood before.”
Knowing that shallow acquaintances shouldn’t pry, Tang Shen asked no further. After clearing customs, Wang Jingchun walked away in a hurry, leaving no time to exchange contact information. Watching her figure get swallowed up by the surging crowd, Tang Shen suddenly remembered that Kejia’s former tutor was named Miss Wong. She also recalled people describing how that Miss Wong was supposedly gold-digging, trying to hook a wealthy bachelor and seducing Cheng Kewei.
Whether at the Cheng family dinner table or whispered by servants in the corners of the corridors, Tang Shen had heard it all, both to her face and behind her back. Having stayed there long enough, she knew how they loved to slap labels on people. Thinking of the person who had been staring blankly at the children by the playground, she couldn’t see how that woman resembled the gold-digger everyone gossiped about in any way whatsoever.
That evening, when Cheng Kewei was heading back to Guia Hill, his car broke down on a narrow street.
He stepped out of the car, stood by the roadside, and frowned as he watched Uncle Zhong make a phone call. This sort of thing tried his patience. Anything that required waiting irritated him—waiting for cars, waiting for people, and above all, waiting to inherit everything belonging to the Cheng family: the position of board chairman, the lion’s share of Grandma’s shares… But as it happened, he had just waited a very long time over at the Li family’s place. Perhaps because of that, his patience was completely exhausted.
Linda, the daughter of the Li family, had a wealthy background, an impeccable resume, pleasant speech delivered with perfect measure, and exquisite facial features and makeup. In comparison, the Ho family’s daughter was too flamboyant and fond of play, while the Cen family’s daughter was too serious and old-fashioned. He figured Linda should be the suitable choice. Yet the moment that meal ended and he got into his car, he only wanted to roll down all the windows and open the sunroof to breathe in more fresh air.
Uncle Zhong was still trying to summon a tow truck, while Cheng Kewei cast his gaze around. They were in an old district lined with tea restaurants, pharmacies, and souvenir shops; the air was thick with the scents of egg waffles, beef jerky, egg tarts, and milk tea. Just as he reached for a cigarette, he remembered he had quit earlier this year, so he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around.
The moment he lifted his head, he saw her.
Wang Jingchun was standing at the entrance of a tea restaurant across the street, about to drag a small blackboard inside. “Today’s Specials” was written on the board in chalk. It was unmistakably her handwriting. When she used to tutor Kejia, she also loved using such small blackboards and writing in that adorable font. Right now, she was half-bent over, keeping her head down as she concentrated on hauling the board, without noticing him.
Thus, he began to unabashedly size her up. She hadn’t changed much; she was still as fair-skinned as ever, with a cowering, timid posture, as if she were perpetually bracing herself for someone to scold her. Why was she still carrying around this terrified look? He genuinely had no idea how she had ever found the audacity back then when, after he jokingly asked if she dared, her lips had merely trembled slightly without her running away. On that summer afternoon, the Cheng family garden had been completely deserted with everyone out, and the few remaining servants napping indoors. Bathed in such glorious sunlight—perhaps he had simply gone mad—he had suddenly grabbed her shoulders and leaned down to kiss her, until she begged for mercy as if suffocating, before breaking free from his embrace and fleeing like a rabbit escaping a hunter.
He must have been out of his mind. How could he have ever thought of provoking her? Such an introverted and timid person. Every time she saw him afterward, she would scurry away like she was looking at a monster. The way she walked hugging the wall with her back slightly arched was almost comical.
What was even funnier: it was clearly he who had noticed her constantly peeking at him, and clearly she who had secretly hidden away one of his ID photos—so how on earth had he ended up cast in the role of the pursuer? In a first half of life dominated by interests and utterly devoid of flavor, he rarely found anyone interesting, and Wang Jingchun was one of the few exceptions.
Consequently, in hidden corners of the Cheng family mansion where no one else could see, a secret game played out repeatedly: she would be walking down the stairs, and upon seeing him head upward, she would turn around in a panic. He would stride forward, grab her hand from behind, bound up two or three steps, and kiss her cheek from behind. She would get so nervous she was about to cry out, and he would reach out to press a hand over her lips.
He merely treated it as a game, but she wasn’t someone skilled at playing games. She took it seriously, invested her heart, and worried frantically. All these abnormal signs were instantly unmasked by Tan Meiqi. How could Tan Meiqi ever tolerate anyone harboring designs on the eldest branch? In a fit of rage, she swept Wang Jingchun out of the house.
It was raining on the day she left. She carried her luggage out by herself while everyone else wisely stayed indoors, pretending they didn’t exist. The fine drizzle drifted relentlessly onto her face and body, until after a moment, an umbrella materialized above her head to shield her.
She didn’t look back; she knew it couldn’t possibly be Cheng Kewei. Kejia wasn’t home, nor did he even know she was leaving. Was it Cheng Baoyi? Aside from Kejia, she was the only other person who had been kind to her.
From behind came Wen Yizhuang’s voice: “Miss Wong, wait a moment, I’ve called a car for you.”
Wang Jingchun was prone to crying, but on that day she was exceptionally strong. Smiling very, very slowly, she whispered a thank-you. She knew Wen Yizhuang was Cheng Kewei’s man, but she didn’t ask whether calling the car and holding the umbrella was a personal gesture on his part or acting on that person’s behalf.
Why subject herself to further humiliation? She finally left the house on Guia Hill, returned to her parents’ tea restaurant, and had worked there ever since. And now, just by lifting her head, she saw Cheng Kewei like this.
Across the narrow street, Cheng Kewei could see the expression on her face clearly. The familiar panic had returned to her features, which unexpectedly gave him a sense of reassurance. He liked this panic of hers, as if it were a sensation he could cradle in the palm of his hand. But the startled flurry on her face closed like a window right in front of him, shutting him and that past out in the cold. She turned sideways, dragged the blackboard inside, and acted as though nothing had happened at all.
Uncle Zhong walked over, reporting that the tow truck would take twenty minutes. His tone was tread-carefully cautious. This boss of his wasn’t an easy person to serve—expect him to wait twenty minutes? Without flying into a rage? But strangely enough, this time Cheng Kewei simply let out a hum of acknowledgment, his gaze remaining fixed across the street.
Following his line of sight, Uncle Zhong looked forward. “Oh, that tea restaurant is small, but it’s been open for many years. My wife often buys their pineapple buns for me; they’re quite delicious.”
Cheng Kewei stood motionless for a long moment. After a while, he turned away indifferently and said, “Let’s wait in the car.”