At the long dining table, Wen Yizhuang naturally took the seat at the very end. Tang Shen likewise chose the last seat, right across from him. Cheng Baoxin’s second brother pointed to the space beside him and gestured, “You can sit here.”
Seeing that Tang Shen didn’t move, he smiled slightly and extended a hand. “I’m Cheng Keqi. You can call me Keqi.”
Tang Shen thought to herself, Ke-qi (future holds promise)—another good name. She shook hands with the clean-looking, friendly young man, saying she would just sit at the back. Cheng Keqi asked her what subjects she planned to teach Kejia, and she replied that it would mainly be Chinese, Mandarin, and Chinese history and geography, with an emphasis on helping him develop an exercise habit.
Listening from the side, Baoxin laughed and chimed in, “Teacher Tang must be exceptional; that’s why they were willing to spend a huge sum to invite you over, go through the trouble of applying for your work visa, and even have you live-in.” Cheng Keqi remarked that Second Aunt and Baoyi were both busy. “Kejia needs an adult to accompany him as he grows up. Having a live-in tutor will make things much better.” Tang Shen could tell he was speaking up for her.
Finding it boring, Baoxin changed the subject, asking, “Aren’t Eldest Sister and her husband coming to dinner?” Cheng Keqi said they were in Hong Kong tonight. Baoxin chuckled. “Going to Hong Kong for another charity gala? Haven’t they been humiliated enough last time?”
In the living room, the business discussion finally concluded. Cheng Kewei helped the old lady over to the dining room, and Baoxin immediately reined in her teasing smile. The dishes were served in no time. Baoxin peeled a prawn for old Mrs. Cheng, removed the shell, placed it in her bowl, and lively recounted how there was a famous Cantonese opera performance next week—she had already bought tickets for Grandma. “Just wear that purple coat from your birthday banquet last year; it’s eye-catching enough.” Old Mrs. Cheng laughed, saying she wasn’t the one performing on stage, so what was there to catch eyes with?
Tang Shen ate her meal in silence, thinking to herself that the three siblings of the primary household were truly interesting: the eldest brother was cold, the second brother mild, and the younger sister fiery. She wondered what the absent eldest sister was like.
She raised her eyes to look at Cheng Kewei. The man was eating with his head down, not expending an ounce of effort to humor the old lady. Given his status, he didn’t seem to need to.
As for Cheng Baoyi, she ate her food, helped herself to dishes, and tried to chime in with a remark or two, but compared to the others, her personality was straightforward, making her appear a bit clumsy with words.
As for Baoyi’s mother, Mrs. Cheng, from start to finish she hadn’t once cast a proper look at her son’s tutor. Dressed entirely in designer labels with a Birkin bag by her side, she maintained the posture of a wealthy matriarch, smiling endlessly. Tang Shen mused inwardly that someone who armed herself with a smile even at home was most likely not born into opulence.
While Tang Shen was observing quietly, she looked up and noticed Wen Yizhuang watching her as well. She simply returned his gaze with complete composure. Wen Yizhuang looked away, pretending to listen to the old lady speak.
After dinner, Sister Huan and the Indonesian domestic helper Emily cleared away the plates and brought out sliced fruit, serving a small individual dish to each person. While the rest of the table remained absorbed in conversation, Tang Shen thanked Sister Huan, and at the other end of the long table, Wen Yizhuang similarly thanked Emily. After the fruit, old Mrs. Cheng grew somewhat drowsy and, supported by Sister Huan, went back to her room to rest.
The moment she left, the atmosphere at the table shifted instantly. Tang Shen should have headed back to her room as well, but seeing that Emily was overwhelmed, she picked up the bone plates and teacups in front of her, stacking them one by one. Emily came over to clear up, startled for a moment, and said in English, “Madam, let me do it.”
“Thank you.” Having grown up in an urban village, she was used to tidying up after herself from a young age. This habit was one she neither could shake nor wanted to. Wen Yizhuang watched her quietly from across the table, caught off guard when Mrs. Cheng suddenly turned on Cheng Kewei and picked a fight: “Kewei, with so many people in the company, why on earth did you dispatch Baoyi to the mainland to do charity work? It’s exhausting and thankless.” She cast a sideways glance at Cheng Baoxin with a smile. “Your sister is the one in the PR department.”
Just as Cheng Baoxin was about to speak, Cheng Kewei gave her a look to shut her down. There was still fruit left on his small plate; using a tiny fork, he speared a piece of dragon fruit and popped it into his mouth. “This matter represents the company and the family; naturally, we have to send someone presentable. Ah Xin is too flamboyant in her ways and isn’t suited for it.”
Mrs. Cheng smiled without warmth: “Presentable, or easy to push around?”
Cheng Kewei didn’t answer. He picked up another piece of dragon fruit, turned the little fork around, and leaned sideways to look at her. The ability to command respect without getting angry was something he had learned from the old lady since childhood.
Mrs. Cheng wasn’t afraid of him. The old lady’s two sons and elder daughter-in-law had all died in a car crash, leaving her as the sole surviving member of the parental generation. How could she possibly fear a junior like Cheng Kewei? Maintaining a faint smile, she said, “Right in front of the old lady, it’s ‘we’re one family’ at every turn. When it comes to hard labor, you push it onto your cousin; while keeping your own biological sister comfortably in Macao…”
Tang Shen hadn’t expected to run into this kind of scene on her very first day in the Cheng family. It seemed Kejia’s mother was no pushover. She helped Emily clear the plates and was about to head toward the kitchen when she heard Wen Yizhuang speak up: “Baoyi’s temperament is steadier after all…”
“You’re not a member of the Cheng family,” Mrs. Cheng cut in, icy cold and without even turning her head. “This isn’t your place to speak.”
The room fell abruptly silent. In this house, there were usually background sounds of domestic helpers walking softly and tidying up, but they were cut off instantly. It was as if a movie had lost its audio track, leaving only the silent images of the people in the dining room. In this silent film, Wen Yizhuang maintained his expressionless look, devoid of any trace of humiliation.
Emily stood beside the table holding half a stack of plates, too terrified to move. Tang Shen stood beside her, equally motionless. She finally understood the phrase “outsiders” with crystal clarity.
Mrs. Cheng had spoken so audaciously in front of them because, in her eyes, there were no “outsiders” present. How could a servant ever count as a person? But she merely wondered why Wen Yizhuang had to be treated this way too. What relation was he to the Cheng family, anyway?
This excessive silence made Mrs. Cheng realize she had overstepped. No matter how much she disliked Cheng Kewei’s dog, she still had to give face to the master. But the words were already out and couldn’t be taken back. She raised a hand to smooth her temples, slowly flattening her tone and seizing the opportunity to lower her posture as well: “Yizhuang, I’m not targeting you. It’s just that this is a Cheng family matter.”
“I understand, Mrs. Cheng.”
“Second Aunt, you’re overthinking it.” Cheng Kewei’s words were concise; he had no desire to waste further breath, nor did he stick up for Wen Yizhuang. He popped the dragon fruit into his mouth, put down the little fork, stood up, and left. Wen Yizhuang followed right behind him. The pair of attractive twins watched everything quietly—Cheng Baoxin’s face carried the amusement of watching a good show, while Cheng Keqi remained entirely mild and silent.
Tang Shen had long known this household was complicated. At thirteen—right on the boundary between child and teenager—boys were even harder to handle.
Cheng Baoyi led her to Kejia’s room, chattering all the way: “My younger brother is very obedient, just quiet and doesn’t like to talk much. We hope his personality can be a bit more lively.” She added that they had hired two tutors just this year alone, neither of whom lasted long because Kejia wasn’t very cooperative.
With that, they reached the door. Cheng Baoyi pushed it open. The room was more than twice the size of hers, with a single sofa positioned by the window where Cheng Kejia sat curled up reading a book.
“Teacher Tang is here,” Cheng Baoyi said.
He raised his head.
Tang Shen’s first thought was that this boy truly resembled the “tense” members of the Cheng family.
Everyone in this family was good-looking, but half of them were tighter and more rigid than the other half. A child who should have been at a carefree age didn’t resemble his own elder sister at all; instead, he looked like that perpetually impatient older cousin, Cheng Kewei.
“Say hello to the teacher,” Cheng Baoyi prompted. Cheng Kejia uttered a cold, emotionless greeting. Tang Shen turned to Cheng Baoyi and asked, “Do you mind if I speak with him alone for a bit?”
“Of course.” Cheng Baoyi pulled the door closed, then popped her head back in. “I’ll be working in the study. Call me if you need anything.”
Tang Shen sat down across from him—a method she had honed at Xingguang Primary School. The children of migrant workers were sensitive and reserved; she never rushed to speak, choosing instead to observe first and talk later. Now, she was applying this exact strategy to deal with a wealthy family’s child.
Cheng Kejia had no intention of speaking either. He closed his book, slipped a bookmark inside, and placed the cover face down, clearly not wanting her to see what he was reading.
“I heard you just came back from Sichuan?” she asked. “Was it fun?”
Cheng Kejia looked straight into her eyes, as if prepared in advance, and said coolly, “You don’t need to try specially to communicate with me just to close the distance.”
No wonder the first two tutors didn’t last long, Tang Shen thought.
The boy saw right through what she was thinking. “You also don’t need to report back to Mommy about everything I say or do. You won’t be staying here long anyway.”
Who said he needs to learn how to win? He understands this pretty well, doesn’t he?
Having said that, he stopped looking at her and buried his head back in his book.
So Tang Shen stopped looking at him too. She didn’t leave, nor did she speak; she simply fished a small book out of her bag and began reading quietly.
Cheng Kejia turned two pages, but his eyes refused to settle back onto the paper. Why hasn’t this person left yet? The first two tutors—one putting on a smiling face, the other preaching logic—had both been desperate to prove their worth.
The silence lasted for about seven or eight minutes, which, to a Cheng Kejia lacking in tactical experience, felt like seven or eight hours. He broke first, unable to stand it any longer. “Aren’t you going to teach?”
“Hmm?” Tang Shen slowly turned a page of her book, then slowly raised her head. “Are you ready?”
“No.”
Tang Shen slowly lowered her head again and continued reading.
Cheng Kejia had brainstormed many ways to match wits with his new teacher, but he hadn’t expected her to have zero desire for a contest. He couldn’t help asking, “Just like that?”
Finding his question rather strange, Tang Shen gave him a slow look. “If you don’t plan to cooperate, why waste the energy?”
He was surprised once more. “Then what are you sitting here for?”
“Reading. Your sofa is quite nice; it’s comfortable to sit on.” She spoke the truth. Growing up, she had never been in such a nice house, nor had she ever sat on such a fine sofa. She really wanted to let Xiaoxue and the others come and sit on it, too.
Cheng Kejia certainly didn’t see it that way. He figured this teacher didn’t play by the rules, but was probably just here to discipline him all the same. He stared at her for a moment. A thirteen-year-old boy born into such a family already knew how to look down upon people from above.
No one had spelled out to him how the previous two tutors had left, but Kejia knew in his heart.
The first one couldn’t distinguish boundaries and placed herself on the level of an actual teacher, completely oblivious to the fact that she was merely a hired hand. Mommy hadn’t liked the way she spoke to her with attitude, so she had fired her. The second teacher had been very gentle and treated him wonderfully; he had liked her a lot, yet Mommy had inexplicably fired her too. Discovering that Miss Wong was no longer coming, Cheng Kejia had been deeply shaken and shed tears. Mommy had scolded him: You’re a boy; you’ll have to fight them for your place and inherit the family business in the future. How can you cry over such a petty thing? Acting like this doesn’t make you look like a man at all!
Cheng Kejia stopped crying.
Just like now, he watched Tang Shen appraisingly, even with a hint of resentment toward this person who had replaced Miss Wong. Tang Shen wasn’t afraid of him in the least, meeting his scrutiny with calm composure—neither pandering nor shrinking back. She stood up. “That’s it for today. We’ll see each other tomorrow.”
“You’re still coming back?”
“Of course.” She turned her face and offered the boy a faint smile. “Where else can you make money this easily? A clever kid like you should be able to see that…”
See what? She left the second half unsaid, as it was pure nonsense. She would leave this precocious, sensitive child to rack his brains and toss and turn all night. She pushed the door open and walked back to her room.
Standing at the end of the corridor, Wen Yizhuang had just hung up a phone call and turned around, happening to catch sight of Tang Shen. With a sparse smile on his face, he nodded to her. She nodded back, turned, and pulled open her room door. As she stepped inside, she heard the soft click of a door closing behind her.
The room directly across the hall—so that was where he lived.
For the week that followed, Tang Shen appeared in Cheng Kejia’s room promptly every afternoon.
Cheng Kejia no longer dropped hints trying to drive her away, but he showed no intention of opening up, either. A delicate state of truce was maintained between the two of them. He read his books, she read hers. Occasionally, Tang Shen would drop an out-of-the-blue remark, and Cheng Kejia, still possessing a child’s temperament, couldn’t help chiming in to answer—only to regret it immediately afterward.
Macao schools frequently arranged for students to go on study tours and sightseeing trips to the mainland. In just the past two years alone, Cheng Kejia had already been to Qufu in Shandong, the three northeastern provinces, and around Chengdu. Tang Shen smiled, noting that he had been to more places than she had. The boy knew she was trying to strike up a conversation, but couldn’t resist the urge to share and exchange. Knowing that Tang Shen was from Yunnan aroused his curiosity as well. Their dialogue gradually grew from one or two sentences into five or six, occasionally stretching out to a full five minutes.
Wen Yizhuang lived directly across from her, and there were often times when they both emerged from their rooms at the same time, exchanging a glance, closing their doors, and walking forward silently in mild awkwardness. Or they would run into each other head-on while going up or down the stairs, both stepping aside to let the other pass—only to instinctively yield to the exact same side.
He was exceptionally polite. He would stand still, wait until the other person was settled, step aside, and say, “Pardon me.” That apology usually coincided with Tang Shen’s own.
He would step aside while she walked down. As they brushed past each other, they could smell the scent of soap from each other’s showers—the exact same scent. In the animal kingdom, only creatures of the same species shared the exact same scent. But Tang Shen, of course, harbored no such unrealistic thoughts: the second floor shared a single bathroom; Sister Huan and Uncle Zhong didn’t live in; Hao Jie used mugwort soap; and the Indonesian helper Emily used only a brand of soap produced in Indonesia. The only two people who used the exact same drugstore-brand mint body wash were her and Wen Yizhuang.
Aside from Kejia and Baoyi, Wen Yizhuang was the person she saw most frequently in the house. As for Mrs. Cheng (Tan Meiqi), she had only made a fleeting appearance that night before heading off on a business trip. Freshly returned, she immediately wanted to summon her son’s tutor, having Cheng Baoyi arrange a meeting outside.
What could there possibly be to say that couldn’t be discussed at home? One could easily guess it was another banquet at Hong Men. Cheng Baoyi drove Tang Shen to that Portuguese restaurant, explaining that her mother was somewhat guarded against tutors because of past events.
“Past events?”
“The family tutor who was here right before you seemed to have developed a crush on Cheng Kewei. Mommy was very unhappy, feeling that these people weren’t genuinely teaching and were just looking to cash in.”
Tang Shen blurted out, “What is there to cash in on?” She lagged a beat behind, finally snapping back to reality and realizing Cheng Baoyi was talking about that teacher and Cheng Kewei. That sort of thing had never once crossed her mind. Realizing Cheng Baoyi had gone silent—wondering if she was waiting for a statement from her—Tang Shen solemnly stated, “I wouldn’t do that.”
The oath-like earnestness of her words actually made Cheng Baoyi feel a bit suspicious. Neither of her two cousins had girlfriends, and their conditions weren’t bad. Matters of the heart were always hard to predict. Keeping quiet, she continued driving, and shortly after, they arrived near the Taipa Village area (Guanye Street). Following her, Tang Shen stepped into a mint-green garden villa. Walking inward, she soon saw Mrs. Cheng seated before a round table, looking her up and down.