For the past few days, Cheng Kewei hasn’t returned to Bishop Hill. He stayed at his own home, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder, a cigarette pinched in one hand, pacing back and forth across the living room. Just beyond the balcony was the Cotai Strip; there were people, there was wind, but he had no leisure to enjoy the view. After all, he was so furious that he had dug out a cigarette he had managed to quit just to smoke it all over again.
“What on earth is going on with my brother-in-law? His cousin actually went and registered a trading company specifically to interface with Cheng Yongtang.” He stubbed the cigarette into the ashtray with vicious force, his fingers trembling just like his voice. “Do you know who I heard this from? You’ll never guess! Uncle Zhong!”
The person on the other end of the line chuckled softly.
“You can actually still laugh.” He grabbed a can of beer from the fridge, the pull-tab snapping open with a crisp pop. “I went and asked my brother-in-law about it, and he explained to me that this Ganoderma is of high quality, so naturally the price is high. He insisted he didn’t pocket any of it for himself, and even told me not to tell my eldest sister and Grandma.”
Wen Yizhuang asked only one question: “Do you believe him?”
“Who would believe that? I just hope this doesn’t blow back on me! What if Grandma finds out? Will she think I didn’t keep things in order?”
“But suppose you don’t proactively tell Old Mrs. Cheng, and she hears it from someone else—what do you think she’ll think? Wouldn’t she think you were part of it too?” Wen Yizhuang considered things thoroughly on his behalf, calmly weighing the pros and cons.
This was Cheng Kewei’s biggest headache. But with the lessons of the past right before him, he couldn’t afford not to consider it.
Some time ago, someone had tipped off Grandma, claiming that Baoyi had secretly sold a formula to the Japanese. That incident had already made the old lady aware of infighting within the family. Once the eldest branch started mutually exposing each other as well… Wen Yizhuang advised him to carefully weigh whether “willful concealment” was more serious, or if being viewed by the old lady as engaging in “mutual slaughter” was more terrifying—especially since the former ultimately involved company interests.
“Let me think about it more.” He sat down on the sofa.
Wen Yizhuang asked again why this hadn’t been discovered sooner.
“They kept it very covert. Anyway, I’ll talk it over properly with my eldest sister.” The doorbell rang. He stood up to answer the door, the phone still pressed to his ear. “Help me sound out Uncle Zhong’s side to see what’s in the wind…”
The door opened. Cheng Kewei looked at the person standing outside and fell silent.
Standing outside was Wang Jingchun, equally speechless.
She looked down at the address in her hand; this was the place, no mistake. But why would he be here? Ah, right—that place wasn’t his usual residence; it belonged to Old Mrs. Cheng. Her mind was in complete chaos, the food container rustling softly inside the plastic bag with the slight trembling of her hands.
On the other end of the line, Wen Yizhuang said, “…Hello?”
“I’ll call you back.” Cheng Kewei hung up the phone and fixed his gaze on the person before him. “Long time no see.”
“Your meal.” Avoiding his gaze, she handed over the plastic bag and stated the total amount.
He didn’t raise a hand to take it, glanced at her, and turned to walk back inside the apartment. “Come in and complete the delivery.”
Wang Jingchun had a simple mind. Seeing him walk inside, she followed right along. Whenever she recalled this scene later, she knew she probably just hadn’t reacted in time. Why was she always like this? That time he teased her over at Bishop Hill, she had also looked at him blankly, letting him lean in and kiss her.
At this moment, Cheng Kewei stopped in front of the bedroom door, turned around, and glanced at her. Holding the takeout bag, she looked toward the bedroom, and her complexion shifted as well. “Please don’t toy with me.”
“Sorry, that was my mistake. I thought you still liked me.” He offered a sham, theatrical apology.
She stood holding the bag of food, staring straight at him. He could see that she still carried that timidity he was familiar with—petite, easily startled, like a leaf caught in a fierce gale. Yet this leaf had grown a bit shrewder now, disguising herself as a piece of wood and deliberately suppressing that fear. In a strictly professional tone, she repeated the price and added, “Mr. Cheng, use a delivery app next time; they have professional riders. No need to call small tea restaurants like ours.”
Ignoring her, Cheng Kewei lowered his head and made a phone call. When the other end connected, he put it on speaker and asked his assistant in a somewhat displeased tone, “Did you call the tea restaurant directly for delivery? Now I’m being questioned by the merchant.” The expression on Wang Jingchun’s face changed rapidly—first disbelief, then embarrassment. On the other end of the line, Cheng Kewei’s assistant explained with a grievance-laden tone that the apps were slow at fulfilling orders and prone to delays, adding, “Seeing that it was lunchtime, I figured I had no choice but to call a familiar shop directly.”
Cheng Kewei looked toward Wang Jingchun, spreading his hands with an expression that said, “See?”
Over the phone, the assistant said, “I’ll call the merchant right now and file a complaint.”
Wang Jingchun widened her eyes, looking between the phone in Cheng Kewei’s hand and Cheng Kewei himself.
“Never mind.” Cheng Kewei hung up the phone, raised his head, and locked eyes with her. “If you don’t want to do this business, go back and tell your boss to put this address on the blacklist.”
“It’s not my boss, it’s my dad.” Wang Jingchun tried her absolute hardest to put on a calm front, but her retreating shoulders couldn’t stop trembling slightly. “After that incident last time, Mrs. Cheng complained to the institution where I worked, and they fired me. Macau is so small, there aren’t all that many educational institutions to begin with. I don’t know what method Mrs. Cheng used, or if I just had a run of bad luck, but either way, I couldn’t find a job and had no choice but to come home and help out at our family’s tea restaurant.”
Cheng Kewei knew nothing at all about Miss Wong. All he knew was that her name was Wang Jingchun, what hairstyle she wore when she was at Bishop Hill, what clothes she wore, that her voice was soft when she spoke, and that her body would tremble slightly when he kissed her, just like right now. She was like a bird easily startled; a tiny gust of wind, a tiny drop of rain, would frighten her. Yet this bird, having been through what happened last time, seemed to have grown a fraction stronger. In his eyes, she was still fragile—she simply had a bit of courage now, as if ready to fly away at any moment.
He knew nothing of her family background. He had never cared about what happened to her after she was fired, even deliberately avoiding thinking about it. How could it withstand close scrutiny? The moment he thought about it, he would have to face his own baseness. But at this moment, he finally perceived his own cruelty. Glancing at the small round table in the living room, he said, “You can put it on there.” Wang Jingchun dropped the food bag onto it. The startled bird turned around and flew out of Cheng Kewei’s sight as if on wings.
The Cheng family truly resembled a palace. To the young lords and ladies, life within the palace was a day-after-day tranquility. Kejia’s troubles amounted to nothing more than her mother being too strict and having too much schoolwork. As for the servants, they knew when the wind was rising, but they didn’t know why it rose or where it came from. They only knew that whichever way the wind blew, they would lean. As for the masters, they were the ones who stirred up this wind—only once it blew, when it would stop was no longer up to them.
The eldest sister had a fierce, bitter argument with her brother-in-law, crying and yelling until her makeup was ruined. She made him immediately halt that procurement line, using their private savings to cover the shortfall in market price. As for herself, she swore oaths to her younger brother, promising that such a thing would never happen again, and begged him desperately not to alert the old lady.
Cheng Kewei had always been dissatisfied with his eldest sister’s good-for-nothing husband, so this time he was doing her a favor, though his expression remained indifferent. “I can keep quiet about it. But in this house, I might not be the only one who knows.”
Naturally, he didn’t sell out Uncle Zhong, leaving a bit of suspense for his eldest sister to guess at herself.
Who knew? Who didn’t know?
Even Cheng Kewei himself couldn’t say for sure.
He only knew that the more distant everyone else was from one another, the less they formed factions, the more advantageous it was for him.