“Sit down.” Her tone was almost a command, and he obediently sat down on the edge of the bathtub. She stood before him, leaning over slightly, one hand supporting his chin as she turned his face to the side. The antiseptic cotton swab licked back and forth across the wound, and he let out a very soft hiss.
“Hurt?”
He didn’t answer, only feeling that the two of them were standing much too close.
He had grown up in the Cheng family with the status of an “adopted son,” but from childhood to adulthood, he didn’t have a single blood relative. Whenever he bumped or bruised himself, he handled it on his own. There were those who treated him well, like Cheng Keqi and Cheng Keqia, but they themselves had grown up draped in silks and satins; how could they possibly know how to take care of someone else? Especially this kind of care originating from a member of the opposite sex—that was something he had never experienced.
From the start of his puberty, women had been raging floods and fierce beasts, venomous snakes, and arsenic. They threatened to let the hard-won opportunity to stay here slip away like shifting sands.
Tang Shen’s breath fell on his forehead, comfortably warm. He averted his gaze, finding another topic to break the silence. “I heard Cheng Baoyi has been going to that traditional Chinese medicine park in Hengqin frequently lately?”
She let out a soft “Mhm,” her hand not stopping.
“Any new moves?”
Tang Shen picked up a sterile bandage strip, tore it open, targeted his wound, and pressed it down. Her fingertips massaged it twice to secure it firmly. “No matter how she moves, she can never bypass Cheng Kewei.”
He knew she had misunderstood. He was merely making small talk to fill the silence, yet she assumed he was probing with intent. She released his chin, threw away the discarded paper backing of the bandage, and turned to wash her hands at the sink.
With her back to him and her head lowered, he examined her without any reservation—watching her turn off the faucet tightly, watching her dry her hands with a towel, watching her efficient movements.
He had originally wanted to bring up the matter regarding his brother-in-law. This was a major event for the Cheng family, one that was about to whip up a massive storm right here. In their plans, this storm would inevitably sweep up Cheng Baoyi.
If he spoke of it, it would be useful to her, but of no benefit to himself—it even carried risks. He thought back to his long, repressed, and unhappy youth. Having endured for so long, he couldn’t afford to fail at the very last hurdle. He also thought of Cheng Keqi’s gaze at the dinner table, lingering on her for just a bit too long. He couldn’t tell whether that was an evaluation of a rival or a man looking at a woman. But he was unwilling to gamble.
Tang Shen had no idea what was running through his mind; she had her own concerns, things left unsaid that she wanted to ask. Sensing her preoccupation, Wen Yizhuang asked her what was wrong.
Although the second floor was empty, she paused to think before stepping forward to pull the bathroom door shut, asking him, “What’s going on with the old lady recently?”
Naturally, Wen Yizhuang knew what she was asking. But he remained exceptionally calm. “I haven’t heard of anything.”
Tang Shen bit the corner of her lip, deep in thought. Since they stood so close together, she could smell his body lotion. It was the first time she realized that over-the-counter supermarket items could smell so fresh and pleasant.
He told himself to remain calm, to handle things with his usual effortless composure. Thus, he replied calmly with a question of his own, “Didn’t the old lady summon Cheng Baoyi over a while ago? She should know.” Seeing her startle, he smiled again. “You don’t need to be overly guarded. Cheng Kewei holds himself in high esteem; he doesn’t view Baoyi as a match, thinking she’s far too green.”
Cheng Baoyi was worldly-wise yet candidly indignant; she understood the twists and turns of the Cheng family, yet loathed those very twists and turns. Tang Shen, on the other hand, was calculating step-by-step, carrying deep-seated thoughts. Yet, having grown up in the unpolished grassroots environment of the urban villages, her pretense was for self-preservation, while her authenticity was the true color of her soul—otherwise, how could she have hit it off so effortlessly with Cheng Baoyi?
In the end, she decided to speak her mind directly: “Can I trust you?”
No one had ever asked Wen Yizhuang that question. He thought about it seriously for a moment and answered earnestly: “Let me give you a piece of advice: in the Cheng family, never trust anyone.”
That sounded like a truly correct piece of nonsense.
Then Wen Yizhuang added, “Even with Cheng Baowen, you shouldn’t trust her husband.”
A tight feeling gripped Tang Shen’s heart, wondering if he was fishing for information. But she also intended to probe him in return. In this house, no one could trust anyone, yet the two of them were cut from the same cloth—the only outsiders here… Thinking along these lines, she asked a question with no loopholes: “Do you all know about it?”
“Huang Jiahao’s affair?” Wen Yizhuang answered straight out. “Aside from the old lady, everyone else probably knows. It’s just that no one dares to poke the hornet’s nest in front of her.”
“Cheng Kewei isn’t planning to tell the old lady?”
“If he doesn’t speak up, it’s entirely understandable. That’s his own elder sister. He only needs to clean up this mess and keep his brother-in-law in line from now on, and he’ll be in the clear.” He glanced at Tang Shen. “As for the others…”
What about the others? Wen Yizhuang left half of his sentence unsaid. Tang Shen drifted into the unspoken half, thinking silently that walls have ears; the old lady finding out was only a matter of time.
The eldest branch keeping quiet was out of family loyalty. What about the second branch?
If Cheng Baoyi stayed silent, would the old lady feel heartbroken that not a single grandchild in this household was willing to share her burdens? She lowered her head in silent thought, while Wen Yizhuang lowered his gaze as well, watching the fine downy hairs on the back of her neck. While she was pondering the old lady and Cheng Baoyi, Wen Yizhuang was thinking of something else.
The day for the Cheng family’s full gathering for dinner finally arrived. The meal proceeded as usual. Only Cheng Baoxin looked somewhat sullen. The Cheng family seemed governed by a law of conservation of energy; when one person spoke little, another would speak much more. The eldest sister was even more animated than usual, recounting an amusing anecdote about a friend in Hong Kong with beaming radiance and sweeping gestures. Her husband placed a piece of fish belly on her plate, but her gaze drifted onto Cheng Baoxin’s face, her tone lazy and laced with a smile. “Baoxin, did you perm your hair?”
Knowing his wife was a ticking time bomb, the husband hastily jumped in. “Ha, girls change their hairstyles all the time.” As he said this, he cast a glance at Cheng Baoxin. Where is any permed hair? His wife was being way too obvious. He secretly broke out in a cold sweat.
Cheng Baoxin wore a half-smile. “Is that so?” Her voice was equally languid, showing no intention of lingering on the topic.
Tang Shen exchanged a quiet glance with Cheng Baoyi, looking from the brother-in-law to Cheng Baoxin; both of them harbored the exact same secret.
The procurement ball had been kicked right back in public view, and even Uncle Zhong knew about it, yet why hadn’t it exploded in the old lady’s face yet? Discussing it privately, they guessed that perhaps when the old lady asked about Cheng Baoxin the other day, she had other intentions—testing whether Cheng Baoyi would seize the opportunity to report something to her.
Tang Shen shot a look at Cheng Baoyi, prompting the latter to turn her gaze toward Cheng Kejia, asking him what he had been studying lately. Kejia responded verbally while thinking to himself how miserable it was to be a kid; every time the atmosphere at the dinner table turned sour, someone would inevitably inquire about his schoolwork.
Cheng Keqi smiled from the side. “Why don’t you guys ask what Keqi has been playing with lately?” He brought up a newly released video game. The people at the table weren’t particularly interested, but everyone smiled slightly, and the atmosphere relaxed.
Cheng Kewei was uninterested in everything, including the dinner on the table today. Strangely enough, he had found himself thinking of Wang Jingchun for several days straight; he must have gone mad.
He was absent-minded, failing to notice even when Wen Yizhuang reached out to refill his teacup. But what he missed went far beyond that. Over the years, Wen Yizhuang had acted like a moving background fixture in his life, melting seamlessly into the background color at any given moment.
The old lady was eating slowly. Tang Shen kept a watchful eye on her; her appetite was decent, her speech logical, and her gaze sharp and clear—she certainly didn’t look like someone in poor health. Half of Tang Shen’s mind was put at ease. She guessed that perhaps the old lady had simply been sleeping poorly recently, which was why she needed A-Hao by her side. She didn’t realize that while she was watching the old lady, someone else at the table was watching her.
Chatting with Kejia, Cheng Keqi wore a smile, his gaze occasionally sweeping past Tang Shen. There was little spirit in Cheng Baoxin’s eyes; she ate a few bites of rice, then quietly watched across the table as Cheng Keqi’s gaze lingered on someone else.
At the end of the meal, a bowl of ginger soup glutinous rice dumplings was served to each person. The old lady didn’t eat dumplings; she only drank her rose, goji berry, and white fungus soup. People at the table chatted back and forth, the atmosphere much looser than at the start.
Suddenly, the old lady spoke up, calling out, “Baoxin.” The voices of the others at the table abruptly dropped low.
Cheng Baoxin raised her head. “Grandma.”
The old lady looked at her. “I remember back in the day, your mommy loved drinking rose, goji berry, and white fungus soup the most.”
Clutching her spoon, Cheng Baoxin kept her head down so that no one could see the expression on her face.
Cheng Keqi chimed in with a smile. “I still remember. Baoxin is careless, she might not recall it.”
After the meal, everyone moved to the living room, standing or sitting as they chatted. Tang Shen understood her own status; although the old lady had allowed her to dine with them, it didn’t mean she was considered an “insider.” Baoyi disliked this kind of hypocritical small talk, but she understood she needed to stay, lingering within the old lady’s line of sight as much as possible.
As Tang Shen walked toward the stairs, she passed by Wen Yizhuang. He was speaking in a low voice to Cheng Kewei: “Huang Jiahao, he…” Lifting his eyes and catching sight of her, he offered her a slight smile, leaving the second half of his sentence hanging.
Walking up the stairs, Tang Shen couldn’t resist glancing back, seeing Wen Yizhuang leaning close to Cheng Kewei’s ear, murmuring something to him. She turned around and walked slowly toward her room, replaying the recent events along the way. Reaching her door, she subconsciously glanced back at the opposite door.
The door was left wide open. But outside, dark clouds billowed, the wind was rising, and rain was about to fall. The wind blew, fluttering the documents on the desk into disarray. She initially intended to turn away, but a different thought arose in her heart.
Downstairs, the people were talking and laughing merrily. She could hear Cheng Kewei’s voice, as well as Wen Yizhuang’s. What were they talking about again? In any case, it wasn’t a topic that would wrap up anytime soon. Even if he walked in, what of it? She had the wind, the rain, and an excuse. Meeting the wind head-on, she stepped into Wen Yizhuang’s room.