“My mother and my younger sister are both dead. Whether you were wronged or not—does it even matter anymore, Qin Yan?”
Qin Yan drove back to the villa, but she was so distracted that she nearly crashed into a streetlamp.
Luo Qisheng’s final words to her kept echoing in her ears.
He was right. Losing someone was simply too heavy, too painful. What the truth was no longer mattered. At least not to him.
When Qin Yan’s car reached the street where the villa was located, she could see soldiers standing guard with rifles from a distance. The sight made her feel particularly irritated.
She turned the car around and drove to Ling Manyun’s small apartment instead.
“Did they kick you out this quickly?” Ling Manyun asked. “You didn’t even bring any clothes?”
“No.”
Ling Manyun promptly went looking for a set of pajamas for her.
There was no kitchen in the apartment. They had to cook in the corridor on the first floor, so the only thing they could manage was something simple, like noodle soup.
Before long, Ling Manyun brought over two bowls of egg noodle soup. The two women sat across from each other and ate.
Qin Yan had no appetite. She merely picked at the noodles with her chopsticks, one strand at a time.
“…Eat something. I have something to tell you later. Once you hear it, you’ll have even less appetite,” Ling Manyun said.
Qin Yan replied, “Just tell me. I already have no appetite anyway.”
“Your husband, Marshal Cheng Tianxun, was photographed entering and leaving Du Zhuojun’s private residence the night before last,” Ling Manyun said.
So Cheng Tianxun hadn’t returned yesterday. He had actually come back the day before.
“I know.”
“That’s not what I wanted to tell you. Du Zhuojun bought the Nancheng Daily. She’s also promoting the use of vernacular Chinese, and she’s trying to poach our chief editors,” Ling Manyun said.
Qin Yan slowly raised her eyes.
“I looked into it. She’s already sent people to approach all four of our chief editors,” Ling Manyun said.
Qin Yan slowly stirred the noodles in her bowl with her chopsticks. “Du Zhuojun comes from a prestigious family. She was already quite well-known when she was young, and many people in literary circles have publicly supported her. There’s nothing wrong with using her reputation and financial resources to attract talented people.”
“She’s trying to steal your livelihood. If she wants to take your man, fine, let her have him. But she can’t have your chief editors,” Ling Manyun said.
Qin Yan fell silent.
She seemed to understand why Cheng Tianxun wanted a divorce.
There was something Qin Yan had never told Ling Manyun: back then, it was the Marshal’s wife who had arranged for Du Zhuojun to go abroad to study.
It seemed she had done it to break up the couple and separate Du Zhuojun from Cheng Tianxun.
Qin Yan had never been curious about the exact reason, so she hadn’t bothered looking into it.
“What are you planning to do?” Ling Manyun asked again.
Before Qin Yan could answer, she offered her own suggestion.
“I recommend assassinating her. Solve the problem at its source. Getting in the way of someone’s livelihood is practically like killing their parents. If you don’t get ruthless now, other newspapers might start poaching your people too.”
She continued, “When you first promoted vernacular Chinese, the other newspapers joined forces to attack you. Even people from literary circles came forward to criticize you. The things they said were downright ugly.
“Now that they’ve seen you succeed, they don’t just want to imitate you—they want to dig out your foundation and take away your people. If you do nothing, you’ll lose your entire livelihood.”
Qin Yan said, “We’re not old-fashioned warlords. Why are we always talking about assassinations?”
“It’s the most effective solution.”
“We use pens, not guns,” Qin Yan said. “I’ll speak with the chief editors. If anyone wants to leave for a better opportunity, I’ll let them go. If I was capable of making them successful, I’m capable of bringing up new people too.”
Ling Manyun thought about it for a moment before agreeing. “I admire your ability. You’re more than capable of handling this. Since you’re confident, don’t shortchange yourself. Eat your noodles.”
Qin Yan still couldn’t eat.
“How about I go out and buy you some little cakes?”
Just then, someone knocked on the door.
“Young Madam.”
It was Adjutant Qian.
Qin Yan went to open the door.
Adjutant Qian clicked his heels together and saluted. “Marshal has come to take you home.”
Qin Yan had no intention of making things difficult for anyone. “I’ll be right there.”
After saying goodbye to Ling Manyun, Qin Yan went downstairs.
Her car was parked beneath a tree at the entrance of the alley.
This area wasn’t particularly prosperous. There was only a single streetlamp at the entrance of the entire street. But with the Mid-Autumn Festival approaching in August, the moonlight was bright.
Yet beneath the tree, it was still rather dark.
Another car was parked in front of hers. A man was reclining in the back seat with the window lowered. His long legs were slightly bent as he smoked leisurely.
The red glow of the cigarette flickered faintly, its crisp tobacco scent drifting through the air.
“You still had official business to discuss this late at night?” Cheng Tianxun asked when Qin Yan got into the car.
“Just a minor matter.” Qin Yan took the opportunity to smooth things over.
“Have you eaten?”
“No. I don’t like egg noodle soup,” Qin Yan said.
“We’ll go home and eat,” Cheng Tianxun said.
Then he added, “I told you this morning to give the divorce papers to Lan Zheng. Didn’t you hear me? Lan Zheng has been waiting all day.”
Qin Yan turned slightly to look at him.
The inside of the car was dark, making it impossible to see his expression clearly.
“…Lan Zheng wants a divorce but doesn’t want his father to know. He asked me to get him an official document with a seal on it,” Cheng Tianxun explained.
Qin Yan said, “I really didn’t hear you. I thought you were giving the divorce papers to me.”
Cheng Tianxun said, “What nonsense. Why would I give you divorce papers for no reason?”
After a pause, he seemed to try to hold back his teasing, but failed.
“Is that why you stayed out all night?”
“Yes,” Qin Yan said.
Cheng Tianxun couldn’t help laughing.
He reached out and pulled her firmly into his arms. “For someone as cold and proper as you, you really couldn’t hold your temper.”
He tipped up her chin and kissed her on the lips.
There was a faint, clean scent of tobacco.
Qin Yan pushed him away and reminded him, “We’re in the car.”
Cheng Tianxun released her and instructed the adjutant driving in front, “Drive faster.”
Qin Yan was not at all coy when it came to intimacy, but that didn’t mean she was careless about it.
She had plenty of standards.
Upstairs in their bedroom, with just a little persuasion from Cheng Tianxun, she would melt into his arms and let him have his way with her. No matter what he tried, she never objected.
Every time she was satisfied afterward, she resembled a camellia drenched in the morning dew—delicate and radiant, as though she might drip with sweetness. Cheng Tianxun always found a great sense of accomplishment in that.
But the moment they went downstairs, she immediately returned to her usual self: dignified, aloof, and rigidly proper.
Even the slightest bit of intimacy was out of the question.
It was rather amusing.
Even the fact that the divorce papers had “run away from home” was something Cheng Tianxun had never expected.
Cheng Tianxun and Lan Zheng had grown up together. However, Lan Zheng had spent several years studying abroad and had only returned to the country a few months ago. The two had barely kept in touch in recent years.
Once the divorce papers had been prepared and stamped with the official seal, Cheng Tianxun had been too busy that day, so he told Qin Yan to call his older brother.
Unexpectedly, at five that afternoon, Lan Zheng called the military government office and asked whether everything had been taken care of.
“Didn’t I tell you to have your younger sister give it to you?” Cheng Tianxun said.
Qin Yan was reliable. Cheng Tianxun trusted her.
Lan Zheng froze for a moment, then his tone suddenly became anxious.
“Muhe? How did you give it to her? If you gave it to her, my entire family will find out.”
Cheng Tianxun had spent the entire day in meetings at the military government office, and his head was throbbing a little. When he heard the name “Muhe,” he paused.
For a moment, he couldn’t remember what his wife was called.
Whatever her name was, it certainly wasn’t Muhe.
Cheng Tianxun and Qin Yan rarely interacted under normal circumstances. After he returned from his military post, the extent of their relationship could be summed up as “having a few proper meals together.”
Most of the time, he was so busy he could barely breathe, constantly having to outmaneuver the old generals in the military and his own brothers. His wife barely existed in his thoughts.
To be honest, he didn’t really remember what Qin Yan looked like, and even her name felt somewhat unfamiliar.
After several seconds of silence, Cheng Tianxun finally remembered.
“No. I gave it to Qin Yan. Who is Muhe?”
There was an even longer silence on Lan Zheng’s end.
“Who is Qin Yan?”
“Your younger sister.”
“I have one. My father has two brothers, and my grandmother has seven grandchildren. There’s only one granddaughter—Lan Muhe,” Lan Zheng said.
Cheng Tianxun felt as though there had to be something wrong with his brain.
He had married the Chief of Staff’s daughter. They had even held a wedding.
“…Is Muhe your childhood name?” he asked Qin Yan.
Qin Yan said, “No.”
Cheng Tianxun: “?”