Both sides of the second floor were reserved for “outsiders”: Tang Shen and Wen Yizhuang shared the eastern side, Sister Hao and the Indonesian domestic helper lived on the western side, while Sister Huan and Uncle Zhong did not live-in.
This city was small. Since modern times, the three important cities around the Pearl River Estuary had been known as “Guangzhou City, Hong Kong Land, Macao Street.” The very name Macao originated from the peninsula’s narrow geography and dense network of streets. Consequently, whenever temporary help was needed, people could arrive in a flash.
Tang Shen went to knock on Sister Hao’s door.
Sister Hao opened it. Meeting Tang Shen’s gaze, a flicker of hesitation crossed her face. “Teacher Tang, what do you need this for?”
“You heard the commotion downstairs just as well,” Tang Shen said softly. “I want Kejia to take some medicine to the old lady.”
Having worked in this household for the better part of her lifetime, Sister Hao understood immediately. She didn’t answer right away. With the door still wide open, the sharp, raised voices of the eldest daughter and her husband drifted faintly from below.
“Teacher Tang, I hope you understand that I have no wish to get involved in their family matters.”
“This isn’t family business; it’s just a child showing concern for his elder,” Tang Shen said with a faint smile. “No one would ever find fault with a child’s good intentions.”
Sister Hao stood in silence for a long moment before turning to retrieve a small medicine bottle from her drawer, handing it over. “Teacher Tang,” she lowered her voice, “I never gave you anything, and I know nothing about this. You understand what I mean, right?”
Slipping the medicine bottle into her palm, Tang Shen offered her a slight smile. “I understand.” Returning to Cheng Kejia’s room, she found him still staring blindly at the screen without having typed a single word, the tear tracks on his face still damp.
Taking his hand, Tang Shen pressed the small medicine bottle into his palm. “Go on, take this to your grandmother,” she instructed him. Failing to grasp her intent, the boy looked up in mild bewilderment. As she explained her reasoning, comprehension dawned on him, but a complicated expression surfaced on his face.
Understanding what was going through his head, she told him, “This isn’t about brown-nosing. You’re worried about her too, aren’t you? Everyone else only cares about how the Cheng family fortune is split—who actually cares about Grandma’s health? You’re a young man now; you need to stand by your mother and sister, and you need to care for Grandma.”
Reluctant as he was, Cheng Kejia knew she made sense. Clasping the small medicine bottle tightly in his palm, he turned and walked out the door. Tang Shen followed him out, watching as he walked to the elevator lobby.
Looking up, she noticed Wen Yizhuang standing quietly at the end of the third-floor corridor, watching her. She offered him a slight smile before turning back into Cheng Kejia’s room.
The brilliant chandelier in the downstairs living room illuminated everyone’s faces, leaving no room for expressions to hide. Smiling brightly, the eldest daughter chimed in, “…I’m just doing what’s best for the company. Your branch doesn’t contribute much, yet you take far too much…”
Tan Meiqi’s face flushed crimson. Accustomed to maintaining the haughty posture of a wealthy matriarch and relying on passive-aggressive barbs, she was utterly unaccustomed to head-on confrontation. Cheng Baoyi, on the other hand, fired back with a string of rebuttals. Standing quietly by the window, Cheng Kewei watched in silence, as if everything unfolding before him had nothing to do with him. Baoxin glanced at the eldest sister, then at the eldest brother, before finally letting her gaze rest on old Mrs. Cheng.
Seated at the central head position, old Mrs. Cheng wore a sullen expression, looking over her assembled children and grandchildren without uttering a single word. When the eldest daughter opened her mouth to speak again, her husband patted her hand, signaling her to be quiet. Shaking violently, the second aunt’s voice trembled, “Kejia is still just a child, and yet you people…”
Her brother-in-law spoke up gently, “Second Aunt, Kejia isn’t a part of the company yet…”
The old lady still remained silent. With her eyes closed, it was impossible for anyone to guess what she was thinking.
At that exact moment, Cheng Kejia walked down the stairs, crossed the living room, skirted around the coffee table and the arguing adults, and walked straight up to old Mrs. Cheng’s side. Without a word, he gently placed the small medicine bottle into his grandmother’s palm.
Opening her eyes, the old lady looked down at the bottle. It was the heart medication she had taken for years, normally kept strictly in Sister Hao’s custody. She then raised her gaze to look at the boy standing before her.
That face—the resemblance was uncanny. His brows, his facial contours, his posture, and even the slightly hunched way he stood bore an identical likeness to her late youngest son.
“Grandma,” Cheng Kejia lowered his head, his voice audible only to the two of them, “They can argue all they want, you just take care of your health.”
Noticing Cheng Kejia speaking to the old lady, the rest of the room fell silent. Though unaware of what was being said, they could all see that the old lady’s attention had completely shifted away from the argument, fixed entirely on her youngest grandson. As if on cue, everyone tacitly stopped talking.
The living room gradually grew still.
Baoxin swept her gaze across the room, catching the flash of displeasure in the eldest sister’s eyes before her husband pulled her hand to stop her from reacting. She found the whole scene rather amusing. Turning her attention to Cheng Kewei, she saw the same detached expression on his face. Finally, she looked at Tan Meiqi, who was staring fixedly at her son with absolute concentration. As for Cheng Baoyi, she was still riding the wave of her anger, her emotions yet to settle.
Clutching the small medicine bottle, the old lady slowly raised her head and gave a dismissive wave. “We won’t discuss this matter today. Let’s call it a night.”
“Grandma,” the eldest daughter protested, “We haven’t settled—”
“I said we’re done for today,” the old lady repeated. Catching sight of everyone still lingering, she raised her voice slightly. “The rest of you can head back to your rooms and rest.” Turning to soften her tone, she added, “Kejia, stay and sit with me for a little while.”
Reluctant as they were, the others dispersed one by one, leaving the living room quiet. Looking down at the medicine bottle in her palm, the old lady turned her gaze back to the boy beside her.
“Who told you to bring me this medicine?” she asked.
“No one told me to. I heard everyone arguing downstairs and was worried Grandma might not be feeling well, so I went to Sister Hao to get it,” Cheng Kejia replied with practiced poise, thinking to himself how on earth Teacher Tang could have predicted the future and guessed every single question Grandma would ask. Seeing his grandmother smile warmly at him after he finished speaking, a slight wave of guilt washed over him. Yet the old lady said nothing further, merely smiling as she told him, “What a good boy. You really are just like your father.”
Tang Shen’s life here followed a strict routine, entirely dictated by Cheng Kejia’s schedule. Since Tan Meiqi insisted that her son sleep early, Tang Shen had plenty of free time in the evenings. After showering, she would turn in early, reading for a bit before falling asleep. With the Cheng family’s uproar keeping her up late that evening, she waited until Kejia returned and clarified the situation before finally grabbing her change of clothes and heading toward the shared second-floor bathroom.
Just as she reached the doorway, the bathroom door swung open. A wave of steam billowed out, clouding her vision in a white haze. Wen Yizhuang emerged from the wisps of warm vapor, dressed simply in a short-sleeved shirt and shorts, the tips of his hair still damp.
Catching sight of her, he nodded and stepped aside to clear the way.
She nodded back, murmured a polite “thank you,” and slipped past him. As she brushed by, a moist warmth drifted from his side, accompanied by the heated fragrance of mint. He kept his eyes averted as he walked past, but right as they crossed paths, she heard him ask, “Finished with Kejia’s lessons?”
“Yes.” She suddenly wondered what kind of lessons he was referring to. Was this another instance of hidden meaning?
He showed no intention of continuing the conversation. His footsteps faded as he walked down the hall and entered his room, closing the door firmly behind him.
Inside the bathroom, the mist had yet to fully clear, leaving the mirror clouded over. Wiping a patch clean with her hand, she peered at her own reflection. Glancing down, she noticed several water droplets beading on the floor tiles.
Hanging up her change of clothes, Tang Shen slowly unbuttoned her shirt. As the steam on the mirror gradually dissipated, revealing her own image clearly, a sudden realization hit her: this mirror had just reflected him, too. In such a confined little space, he had been standing right here moments before. She reached out and swiped her hand across the mirror again, as if trying to sharpen her reflection, but the phantom image flickering in her mind was that of another shadow.
That shadow had been a living, breathing presence here just moments ago. He had leaned down to rinse off, water trailing down the nape of his neck as the muscles of his shoulder blades shifted like rolling hills under a stream. Shaking her head at the thought, Tang Shen bared her teeth at her reflection in the mirror and muttered to herself, “Hey, what are you even thinking? Sister Hao and Emily use this shower too. Not to mention Sister Huan and Uncle Zhong use it when they stay over.”
Turning on the showerhead, the cascading hot water washed every stray thought away.
Early the next morning, Sister Hao proceeded to the old lady’s room to check her blood pressure as she did every day. At precisely six o’clock, she walked upstairs carrying a tray holding a cup of warm water and a compartmentalized pill box. For thirty years, not a single day had broken this pattern.
Already awake, the old lady sat before her vanity mirror, slowly brushing her hair. Greeting her with a smile, Sister Hao said, “Morning, Mrs. Cheng, you’re up so early? You have a wonderful complexion today.” As she spoke, she placed the tray aside and deftly readied the sphygmomanometer. Lowering her hairbrush, the old lady extended her arm and watched in silence as Sister Hao strapped on the cuff and pressed the power button. The machine whirred to life, the cuff slowly tightening.
Closing her eyes, the old lady appeared to be resting. Glancing down at the digital reading after a moment, Sister Hao looked up with a smile. “Your blood pressure is holding steady.”
Opening her eyes, the old lady accepted the warm water from Sister Hao and took her medication. Just as Sister Hao lowered her head to pack up the equipment, the old lady caught her off guard by asking, “It was quite noisy last night. Did it disturb your rest?”
“Not at all,” Sister Hao replied with a smile. “I went to bed early last night, so I didn’t hear a thing.”
“These kids,” the old lady sighed softly, “each one gives me more headaches than the last.”
Knowing precisely when to chime in and when to play dumb, Sister Hao focused her attention intently on folding the machine. Mrs. Cheng inquired further, “I heard someone came to you for medicine last night?” Her tone was casual, her face still bearing a mild smile.
That was one question where playing dumb wouldn’t work. Keeping a smile on her own face, Sister Hao answered, “Yes. Kejia came to find me, saying he heard the commotion and was worried about Mrs. Cheng’s health, so he knocked on my door to get the medicine.”
“So he woke you up then?”
“Not at all, not at all. I had only just fallen asleep myself.” Sister Hao maintained her beaming smile through every word.
When a smile stayed on someone’s face for too long, it became glued there, impossible to shake off. Emerging from old Mrs. Cheng’s room, Sister Hao walked down the corridor, that same floating, superficial smile plastered across her face. Like a detached soul, the smile drifted up toward the ceiling, where it met the identical smiles worn by everyone else in the house. Sister Huan smiled like that; Uncle Zhong occasionally smiled like that; and Cheng Keqi, Cheng Baoxin, and the eldest sister and her husband all wore variations of that very smile. The entire mansion functioned like a theater, where mask-like smiling faces floated endlessly through every corner.