With all the comings and goings in the Cheng family, Wen Yizhuang could not pretend he knew nothing about it. When Cheng Kewei brought up the matter, Wen Yizhuang nodded to signal that he had heard of it, and casually straightened the coffee cup the waiter had placed in front of the other man. Cheng Kewei had this peculiar quirk: he could not tolerate anything in his field of vision that strayed from order. Of all people, Wen Yizhuang knew this best.
It was close to dusk. The two of them sat by the window in a cafe around Avenida de Almeida Ribeiro (San Ma Lu). Wen Yizhuang unconsciously rubbed the rim of his cup, listening to Cheng Kewei’s various speculations: The eldest sister? The brother-in-law? Cheng Baoxin?
Wen Yizhuang looked him straight in the eye: “No matter who it is, in their minds, they probably still think you and I did this.”
Cheng Kewei’s face sank as he took a sip of coffee. He turned his head slightly to look out the window, where tourists passed by, taking photos and checking in near a nearby art boutique. The window glass reflected the shadows of himself and Wen Yizhuang, vague and indistinct, just like this whole affair—unclear.
There was a hint of displeasure in his tone: “Baoxin shouldn’t be so foolish as to pull these stunts right under grandma’s nose. It’s either my eldest sister or my brother-in-law.” Wen Yizhuang only smiled and said, “Let’s wait and see how things develop.”
In this household, Cheng Kewei was far from the only unhappy person. While having a meal in the kitchen, Tang Shen heard others vaguely mentioning that Cheng Baoyun and her husband had a huge argument. What were they arguing about? She didn’t catch it clearly. But when the others weren’t around, Emily quietly told her that as she passed by their room, she heard them mention the word “Japan.”
Tang Shen smiled: “You don’t even know Chinese, how could you hear that?”
“I know a bit of the basics!” Emily put on a performance, rattling off “Nihao,” “Kaixin,” and “Chifan le” in Mandarin, followed by “Zhongguo,” “Xianggang,” “Aomen,” “Riben,” “Gei do cin” (How much?), and “Hou hou mei” (Very delicious) in Cantonese. She tried her best to pronounce the words properly, which only made them sound more eccentric. Tang Shen couldn’t help laughing out loud.
Their happiness was simple. The happiness of the Cheng family, however, was terribly expensive; every new division of territory or partition of power would make some people happy and others unhappy. Not long after Emily left, Cheng Baoyi came over to hunt for frozen pizza in the refrigerator. She stood waiting in front of the microwave as it heated, the warm light casting a glow across her gloomy face.
With her back turned, Tang Shen took a bite of the curry rice Emily had left for her and, without turning her head, asked, “The old lady looked for you?”
With her back turned as well, Cheng Baoyi answered, “Mm.”
“Easy to guess.” Tang Shen swallowed a mouthful of curry and slowly began, “A tall tree catches the wind.” These few words were what Wen Yizhuang had once given to her, and now she passed them on to Cheng Baoyi.
It was inconvenient to talk here. The two hadn’t exchanged many words before Uncle Zhong walked in, and a moment later, another driver came in as well. They stopped talking.
Yet their silence could not fend off the speculations of others. Originally, the servants had started changing their attitudes toward Cheng Baoyi, greeting her with enthusiastic smiles; but over the past few days, whenever they saw her, they pretended to be busy and took detours to avoid her. Everyone saw it happening. Tan Meiqi grew anxious, repeatedly pressing her daughter to ask if there was any truth to the matter. Cheng Baoyi could only offer a bitter smile: “If something like that were really true, the First Household would have already used it as an excuse to clear me out of the family.” Tan Meiqi felt that made sense, but remembering how the rumors were flying around, she still felt unreconciled and urged her to find an opportunity to explain things clearly as soon as possible.
“Explain? Who am I supposed to explain to?”
“To the old lady! To everyone!” Tan Meiqi threw her hands out to either side, wearing a matter-of-fact expression.
Cheng Baoyi gave a very faint smile, finding her mother’s perspective truly amusing. Explain to everyone? How to explain? To her face, everyone said nothing, while all the backstabbing happened behind her back. How was she supposed to explain?
Toward her own mother, Baoyi was filled with resentment. If not for Tang Shen reminding her that in this household she must avoid wearing her true feelings on her face, she would have pulled a long face long ago. But even so, she couldn’t muster even a hint of a pleasant expression toward Tan Meiqi, listening to her talk while letting out cold, humorless laughs.
Now, looking at her daughter, Tan Meiqi felt she had changed somewhat, always harboring the suspicion that her wings had grown hard and she was about to fly away. Then, thinking further, she gave a sudden start: “That Japanese man? Could he be trying to chase you?”
“What?” Cheng Baoyi found it ridiculous. Tan Meiqi hadn’t even seen the photos, didn’t know the man’s age, or even whether he was male or female, yet she had started wildly guessing. She mentioned this to Tang Shen, who only smiled and said nothing. She could probably guess what Tan Meiqi was thinking.
According to others, Cheng Baoyi had two relationships in college and only a few short dates after starting work, never having a formal boyfriend. A Cheng Baoyi like that belonged to the Second Household. But a Cheng Baoyi with a boyfriend was someone who would inevitably harbor split loyalties. Someone with split loyalties was not 100 percent one of their own, and Tan Meiqi felt conflicted inside: she both wished her daughter had a good destination and feared her “fingers would bend outward instead of inward.” She had someone investigate her daughter, and quickly discovered that she did indeed know a mixed-race Japanese-Chinese man surnamed Meguro, who had been a classmate of hers when studying abroad. The man worked at a Japanese pharmaceutical company and had met up with her twice recently.
Anxious, Tan Meiqi ambushed Cheng Baoyi in the garden. The latter had just jogged in through the iron gate, sweat glistening on her temples, accompanied by Tang Shen, who was wearing matching athletic wear. Coming back from the Guia Hill (Songshan) Health Trail, the two slowed their pace when they saw Tan Meiqi.
Tan Meiqi hurried up to them and demanded point-blank, “Is it that Meguro?”
“What?” Cheng Baoyi’s face darkened. She pressed a towel to her forehead, her eyes carrying distinct displeasure: “You had me investigated?”
Tan Meiqi didn’t care about any of that. Only in front of Old Mrs. Cheng would she speak in circles and weigh her options; toward anyone else, she cared about nothing, let alone her own biological daughter. She continued, “Since he’s your classmate, go explain it clearly to grandma, explain it clearly to everyone. Why won’t you say anything? That person’s identity is so sensitive, working for a Japanese pharmaceutical company—if you don’t explain it clearly, it’s very easy for people to suspect…”
“Suspect what?!” Cheng Baoyi draped the towel back around her neck, laughing out of anger. “Meguro is just interested in traditional Chinese medicine (Kampo medicine), wanted to change jobs, and came to ask for my opinion. I didn’t mention anything about Cheng Yongtang to him. After all, we’re both in the pharmaceutical circle; until he finds a new job, I can’t tell anyone. Including grandma.”
Upon hearing this, Tan Meiqi turned around and walked away without another word.
Reacting quickly, Cheng Baoyi grabbed her wrist, and the two of them stood deadlocked right at the iron gate. “I made a promise to Meguro. If you do this, it’s equivalent to asking me to betray him.”
“I don’t care about his Meguro or Megubai.” Tan Meiqi lowered her head to look at her gripped wrist, refusing to shake it off, her voice simply hardening. “Anyway, we can’t let the old lady harbor misunderstandings about us!” She shook off Cheng Baoyi and strode inside.
Tang Shen, who had remained silent all this while, stood two steps behind Cheng Baoyi like a quiet shadow behind her. At that moment, she spoke toward Tan Meiqi’s back, unhurriedly delivering a single sentence: “Someone does need to explain things clearly to the old lady. But that person shouldn’t be you, Mrs. Cheng.”
Tan Meiqi stopped.
Tang Shen said, “Whether it’s Mrs. Cheng or Kejia, if you speak up for Baoyi, the old lady will listen to your face, but once she turns around, she’ll think whatever she was going to think anyway.”
How could Tan Meiqi not understand this logic?
She looked at Tang Shen. This ordinary primary school teacher, born in the mountains and raised in the suburbs, stood in the garden with a calm expression, as if she had kept the following words in her heart for a long time, just waiting for the current moment to gently let them out.
“…Unless,” Tang Shen said, “there is an outsider whom the old lady trusts.”
To be able to establish a foothold in the Cheng family for many years, and to be written into the old lady’s will so that a family trust would be used to provide for Hao Jie’s retirement after the old lady passed away—such a person naturally understood the art of not taking any sides. If anyone in this household understood how to protect themselves best, Hao Jie was definitely number one.
Tan Meiqi understood this logic, and Cheng Baoyi understood it too. Even though Tang Shen was an outsider who had just arrived recently, someone as smart as her should be able to see it clearly as well. But seeing the mysterious smile hanging on the corners of her lips—a smile that baffled Tan Meiqi, though it couldn’t pull the wool over Cheng Baoyi’s eyes—the two entered the house and closed the bedroom door. Cheng Baoyi immediately turned around to face Tang Shen: “Hao Jie? Impossible.”
“Everyone has a weakness. As long as you catch their weakness, nothing is impossible.”
Cheng Baoyi looked at Tang Shen’s face, looking at that slightly bewitching smile at the corner of her lips. That smile concealed someone else’s business. She had always kept guard over it, but for Cheng Baoyi’s sake, she was willing to peel back her memories like a peanut and let the secret be exposed.
Hao Jie’s affair was something Tang Shen had overheard by chance. That afternoon, Hao Jie had been making a phone call in the garden downstairs. It was mid-afternoon and the sun beat down fiercely outside; there was no one else in the garden except for the basketball Cheng Kejia had quietly rolled over. Tang Shen had gone to pick up the ball for him, bending down beneath a tree where her ears caught the fragments of conversation carried by the wind:
“…”
Tang Shen picked up the ball and was about to slip quietly away when she caught sight of Hao Jie walking toward her. It was already too late to leave immediately; if Hao Jie saw her, she would definitely suspect she had eavesdropped.