Although Cheng Baoyi was a member of the family, she received little respect within the company. Nominally, she managed Cheng Yongtang’s factory in Macao, but powers concerning research and development, procurement, and human resources were entirely out of her hands. Additionally, she was expected to help her mother manage the second household’s two retail stores. Even so, she threw herself into her work with great enthusiasm.
As for Mrs. Cheng (Tan Meiqi), her administrative director title carried a big name and little actual power. Yet even that position had initially been secured only by shedding tears in front of old Mrs. Cheng to elicit sympathy. Her office desk, much like the bedside table in her bedroom, was crowded with photographs of her late husband and son.
This was her sole weapon, and her most vital one. The old lady loved her youngest son the most. Tan Meiqi prayed to gods and visited churches, placing her hopes on Cheng Kejia growing up to resemble his father. Whether by the grace of the Madonna or the compassion of Mazu, Cheng Kejia’s face indeed bore many shadows of his father, and old Mrs. Cheng would occasionally lose herself in thought while looking at her youngest grandson. In contrast, Cheng Baoyi possessed no advantages in either appearance or gender, seeming merely like a trial run before Tan Meiqi successfully manufactured her house-struggle weapon.
Yet in the face of immense wealth and interests, love of any quantity was useless. A single car accident had stripped old Mrs. Cheng of two sons and her eldest daughter-in-law, but the eldest household’s two grandsons had already come of age, causing resources that were once evenly balanced to gradually tip toward the eldest branch. The truly lucrative product lines of Cheng Yongtang’s business—along with high-value assets like the research and development approvals for new drugs—were mostly held in the hands of the eldest grandson, Cheng Kewei.
Tang Shen slowly pieced together this full picture through bits and pieces she heard from Cheng Baoyi. This gave her a deeper understanding of Cheng Kejia’s precocity and taciturnity. The young boy expressed his protest through silence.
By now, Cheng Kejia had grown close to Tang Shen and spoke to her without reservation. Tonight, the backyard pool was brightly lit, and Tang Shen was teaching Kejia how to swim.
He had fallen into the water when he was little, leaving him with a lingering psychological shadow regarding water. However, Tan Meiqi had told Tang Shen that the old lady’s ideal heir had to be rugged and devoid of weaknesses. Furthermore, since the old lady had explicitly requested that Kejia get more exercise, it ought to be done under her very nose. There was no better place for it than the pool.
The boy saw it differently. After swimming two laps across the ten-meter-square pool, he stopped by the edge, turned around with a trace of resentment, and said, “You’re not teaching me lessons right now; you’re teaching me how to act.”
Swimming over from a short distance away, Tang Shen paused beside him. “What’s wrong with acting?”
“It’s hypocritical.”
Tang Shen offered a faint, gentle smile. Unable to catch her meaning, the boy grew unhappy and demanded to know why she was laughing at him. Tang Shen explained, “No, I just thought of some things, and I found them quite interesting.” She paused, thought for a moment, and smiled again. Driven by his youthful temperament, Cheng Kejia insisted on an explanation, leaving her no choice but to tell him: “The kids I used to interact with weren’t like you—they didn’t overthink things, nor were they so sensitive.”
Confused, Cheng Kejia wondered whether that was a compliment or an insult.
Tang Shen brushed away the wet strands of hair clinging to her face. “There’s no need to label things as praise or criticism; people simply have different ways of surviving. For those struggling in the urban villages or growing up in rural schools, staying alive is the number one priority—survival eclipses everything else. But you’re different. You pursue ideals, care about morality, and ponder values.”
Cheng Kejia’s grip slackened, causing him to sink a short distance before popping back above the surface, choking slightly and coughing twice. Tang Shen reached out to steady him.
“Your grandmother has lived to this age—what hasn’t she seen? Do you think she can’t tell? Yet she’s still pleased, because her grandchildren are at least willing to put in the effort to please her. What about you?”
“How is that any different from brown-nosing?” Cheng Kejia asked, his voice muffled as he rested his chin against the pool edge.
“If you treat your grandmother well because you genuinely want to, it’s sincere. If you don’t actually care for her, then you’re just acting.”
The boy’s voice lowered. “I do genuinely want to treat Grandma well.”
“Then show it. Don’t worry about what other people might say.”
Lost in thought, Cheng Kejia remained silent for a moment before asking if he could visit her school. Tang Shen agreed without a moment’s hesitation: “Of course.”
At that moment, Emily emerged from the house and called out to Cheng Kejia, saying his mother was looking for him. Acknowledging her, Cheng Kejia hoisted himself up and scrambled onto the deck. Resting her hands on the pool wall, Tang Shen prepared to follow him out. Cheng Kejia looked back. “Keep swimming. Grandma is asleep, and no one else is around tonight.” With that, he grabbed his towel and padded barefoot across the stone slabs back into the house.
Tang Shen got back into the water, swimming back and forth across the lap. When she grew tired, she rested against the pool wall, chin propped on her crossed hands.
“Do you like swimming?”
Lifting her head, Tang Shen saw Wen Yizhuang sitting on the edge of the deck, hugging his knees and watching her. How long has he been sitting there? she wondered.
“I like the feeling of being in the water.”
“What kind of feeling?”
“Not having to think about anything.”
Wen Yizhuang let out a soft laugh as the lights from around the pool cast a glow across his face. “Do you usually have a lot of things to worry about?”
Tang Shen wondered if he harbored any hostility toward her—simply because they served the primary and secondary households respectively? Ignoring his question, she instead asked, “Aren’t you coming in?”
“No, this is your time.”
Paying him no mind, Tang Shen slipped back into the water like a fish. After swimming back and forth for a while, she pulled herself out of the pool, only to find that Wen Yizhuang had already vanished.
Cheng Kejia was dead serious about visiting Starlight Primary School. On the day of departure, Tang Shen was surprised to discover that their driver was none other than Wen Yizhuang.
Composedly taking the passenger seat, Cheng Kejia pulled down his seatbelt and said, “Just make sure Mom doesn’t find out. I don’t like Uncle Zhong and the others tagging along; they’ll just run and snitch to Mommy.”
Sitting in the back, Tang Shen listened as Wen Yizhuang and Cheng Kejia chatted casually about recent video games and movies, feeling even more surprised. She had never realized these two were friends. Weren’t they supposed to be enemies?
The car reached the Macao Port of the Hong Kong-Zhuhai-Macao Bridge, crossed the border via the designated lane for Macao vehicles heading north, and journeyed onward. Initially, Cheng Kejia was occupied with his phone and chatting, but once they entered the suburbs of Guangzhou, he set his phone aside and began staring out the window at the rapidly rising apartment buildings and roadside fast-food stalls.
When the car arrived at the school, the bell rang for the end of class. Children poured out of the hallways, their clamor echoing across the concrete playground. Some were bouncing basketballs, others chasing each other, and a few tugged at their classmates’ clothes in play—full of vibrant life. Cheng Kejia stepped back half a step to make way for the surging crowd of children, his eyes following them closely.
Xiaoxue was among them. Spotting Tang Shen, she ran over from afar, calling out her name. The other children noticed her too, rushing forward to surround her in a tight circle.
Standing two or three paces away, Cheng Kejia watched the cluster of kids.
Though naturally somewhat aloof, he didn’t walk away. Pushed aside by the other children, Xiaoxue stood quietly off to the side. Taking in her awkward demeanor, Cheng Kejia couldn’t help asking, “Teacher Tang is visiting, aren’t you going over?”
Startled, Xiaoxue looked at the brightly dressed young master, turned around, and ran off, leaving Cheng Kejia standing there in utter bewilderment.
Stepping forward, Wen Yizhuang placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, help me move the supplies.”
Cheng Baoyi sponsored the school’s lion dance troupe. Tang Shen hadn’t expected Wen Yizhuang to bring things along. He unloaded a large box of Cheng Yongtang’s products from the trunk, and Tang Shen helped him carry it into the school office. A teacher came over to receive the goods and check the inventory. Picking up a box of digestive medicine to inspect it, Tang Shen noticed the outer plastic wrap was missing.
“These… have they been opened?”
“They’re all within the expiration date and perfectly usable.” Setting down the final box, Wen Yizhuang dusted off his hands.
“Why?”
“To prevent human malice.”
Tang Shen understood instantly. Brand-new goods offered plenty of room for resale value. Unsealed items were worthless, so no one would bother reselling them. Turning around, she saw Wen Yizhuang going over the checklist with the teacher. Eager to help, Cheng Kejia stepped up and offered a hand as well. Expressing her gratitude to Wen Yizhuang, the teacher mentioned that the school infirmary only stocked basic remedies, lacking major brands like Cheng Yongtang’s—medicines that these children’s families could never afford.
With that, she looked from Wen Yizhuang to Tang Shen. “Teacher Tang, shouldn’t we… take some photos to commemorate this?”
The adults in the room caught the implication immediately; the school assumed they were here for a charity photo-op to promote the brand. Unaccustomed to the ways of the world, Cheng Kejia nodded eagerly and handed over his own phone.
Hailing from an affluent background, Cheng Kejia enjoyed reading and often pondered concepts of fairness and justice, coming across very much like a Westernized young master from a post-May Fourth novel. Leaving the school gates, Kejia bombarded Tang Shen with questions, prompting her to explain what poverty alleviation through mindset and capability truly meant, and what rural education entailed.
Opening the rear door, Wen Yizhuang motioned for Cheng Kejia to get in. “You’re tired. Rest up.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Then you can sit in the back and contemplate the meaning of life.”
He certainly understood the boy. After firing off a barrage of questions initially, Cheng Kejia listened to some music in the backseat and gradually drifted off to sleep. By the return trip, dusk was settling in. Streetlights flickered on one by one, retreating backward in a steady succession of lights that swept across the faces of the two in the front and the sleeping boy in the back.
“You really do understand him,” Tang Shen remarked.
“I’ve spent longer in the Cheng family than he has.”
“When we left Starlight Primary School today,” Tang Shen said, “Kejia asked me what will happen to those kids in the future.”
Steering the wheel, Wen Yizhuang asked, “And what did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know… I used to think a child’s future was entirely a product of education. But after coming to the Cheng family, I don’t see it that way anymore.” She wanted to say it’s all a matter of fate, but felt that sounded too old-fashioned and cliché.
Keeping his hands on the wheel, Wen Yizhuang remained silent for a long moment before speaking. “Not everyone can become a banker or an entrepreneur, but most people can live decent lives. Kejia doesn’t need to worry about them.”
Tang Shen stayed quiet. As the car rounded a bend, Wen Yizhuang kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “You seem to disagree?”
“Not really.”
Wen Yizhuang smiled. “You think I’m just like them. But I’m not.”
Tang Shen turned to look at him.
“Cheng Kewei and Cheng Kejia were born with silver spoons in their mouths; money is nothing more than air to them. But I wasn’t.” His voice was as steady and composed as his working style. “I eat and live with them, but anything they give me can be taken back at a moment’s notice. From a young age, I’ve known that I must show gratitude, know my place, and never cross boundaries. Aside from that, I’m no different from the kids back at that school. Since I’m able to survive, they can certainly live good lives, too.”
Tang Shen felt that his words made everything sound a bit too effortless, almost as though he were trivializing other people’s struggles. Yet she offered no retort, simply smiling and echoing, “Is that so?” Slowing the vehicle down, Wen Yizhuang let a speeding car overtake them. That was always how he operated—never hogging the spotlight, yielding whenever possible. Otherwise, how could one possibly survive in a household like this?
“Mr. Wen’s driving is truly steady.”
“Call me Yizhuang,” he said. “When working in the Cheng family, being steady is a requirement.”
“Is that what you call ‘not crossing boundaries’? But how do you know where that boundary lies?”
“By watching where other people step.” A person like him had no authority to define boundaries.
The flow of traffic suddenly slowed down. Car headlights bloomed ahead, behind, and on both sides, resembling the fishing lights of the industrial age. Having spent the entire day out, Tang Shen felt the fatigue setting in. She leaned against the car door at first, then shifted her posture to rest against the seatback, gradually dozing off.
Wen Yizhuang turned the music down another notch.
The car stopped and started repeatedly. During the pauses, he had the luxury of glancing sideways at his companion. Compared to Cheng Baoxin’s striking radiance or Cheng Baoyi’s spirited air, Tang Shen’s钝感美 (unfussy, unpretentious beauty) felt completely out of step with the modern era. Yet who could say? Perhaps this exact sort of charm was what appealed to the old lady’s sensibilities. There wasn’t a trace of adornment on her, save for the single red string wrapped around her wrist.
The car moved forward again, heading south all the way. Cheng Kejia remained asleep, but as they approached the port checkpoint, Tang Shen stirred, lifting her shoulder and waking up. A long queue of vehicles awaited exit inspection. Watching him roll down the window to hand over their documents, she looked out.
As the barrier arm lifted, the car drove onto the artificial island. Past seven o’clock, the lights of the Hong Kong-Zhuhai-Macao Bridge were coming on one by one in a magnificent display. Staring out the window, Tang Shen remained completely silent.
Of the three, two were awake, yet neither spoke. Accustomed to reading people’s expressions, Wen Yizhuang drove for a stretch before breaking the silence. “It might not feel very grand on the bridge itself, but if you look at this bridge from a plane…”
He didn’t finish his sentence. Catching her out of the corner of his eye as she slowly turned her face toward him, he saw her eyes were red.
Having spent a long time in the Cheng family, he was used to telling people what they wanted to hear and knowing how to win favor. Everyone in the household wore a smile, whether genuine or fake. Having never witnessed such raw, unadorned emotion, he momentarily didn’t know where to look.
Recovering faster than he did, she wiped the corner of her eye with a finger and laughed at herself first.
“I’m fine. It’s just that those kids at Starlight Primary School suddenly crossed my mind…” When faced with grand spectacles, strange thoughts always seemed to flash through one’s mind.
Bridge lights flashed past the car window one by one, brushing across her profile.
After driving another stretch, Wen Yizhuang finally spoke up. “If Teacher Tang truly wants to help those children today, relying solely on your own strength is probably a bit difficult.”
Tang Shen looked at him in silence.
“Leverage the Cheng family’s power. That can accomplish far more than anything you could do alone.”
“Leverage always has to be repaid.”
“You’re smart enough; you can afford to pay it back.”
The sea breeze battered against the exterior of the car windows. In the backseat, Cheng Kejia shifted in his sleep, and the conversation between the two came to a halt.
After returning from Guangzhou, Cheng Kejia seemed inspired by something and threw himself into his studies with even greater diligence. When Tang Shen occasionally prompted him to proactively approach old Mrs. Cheng, he no longer showed resistance. Survival first, he reasoned.
Noticing the subtle changes in her son, Tan Meiqi concluded that her earlier warning to Tang Shen had been highly effective. She planned to have her daughter invite Tang Shen out, present her with a small gift, and combine kindness with authority. Extremely busy, Cheng Baoyi had no time to entertain her mother’s whims. Highly observant, Tang Shen picked up on the fact that Cheng Baoyi was in a foul mood.
Kejia told her that the factory machinery had broken down, and when Baoyi asked her eldest brother-in-law for repair funds, he told her she needed to go through the procurement process all over again. Lowering her head to flip through a homework book, Tang Shen casually remarked, “That kind of request sounds reasonable enough.” Kejia retorted, “I’m not a kid; of course I know it’s a reasonable request. What’s unreasonable is that my brother-in-law always stalls her for ages.”
Twisting open a carton of fresh orange juice on the desk, Tang Shen slid it toward him. “Finish writing your school report first.” None of this was for a child to worry about, let alone an outsider like her to concern herself with.
Just as Cheng Kejia was trying to focus on his report, a commotion broke out downstairs. Putting down her book, Tang Shen stood up. Without turning his head, Cheng Kejia muttered, “They argue all the time; you’ll get used to it.”
Still listening, Tang Shen could faintly make out the voices of both Cheng Kewei and Tan Meiqi, but across so many floors, the words were unclear. Suddenly, her brother-in-law’s voice cut through: “Second Aunt, corporate restructuring is a normal business decision. You shouldn’t read alternative motives into everything.”
Tan Meiqi suddenly raised her voice: “Normal? Then why is it that this proposal cuts into our second household’s dividends and decision-making power?”
Tang Shen knew old Mrs. Cheng was in the house that day, yet she had yet to hear her speak—whether because she couldn’t hear clearly or simply chose not to chime in. With both hands resting motionless on the keyboard, Kejia sat rigidly. Looking closer, Tang Shen was startled to see tear tracks on his face.
She pulled out a tissue and handed it to him.
Refusing it, he buried his face in the crook of his elbow and muttered, “Mom doesn’t allow me to cry. She says boys can’t cry.”
“Is there a difference between boys and girls? You can cry whenever you want to.”
“She says only the weak cry.”
“Women are hardly weak. Is Grandma weak? If she cried, would you think she was weak?”
Lifting his face, Cheng Kejia slowly processed her words. After a long pause, he asked in a low voice, “I don’t want to fight my cousins for the family fortune, but I don’t want Mommy and my sister to be bullied either. What should I do?”
The commotion downstairs grew increasingly loud. The volume on both sides escalated further, and Cheng Baoyi’s voice carried a distinct note of grievance. Yet the old lady had remained entirely silent throughout.
After watching Cheng Kejia for a good long moment, Tang Shen finally spoke. “Wait for me here.”
Standing up, she headed toward the direction of the servants’ quarters.