Two days later, Zhu Ling made up with her boyfriend over the phone, and after school that day, she went to see him. He had the day off—no bar gig, no going out. He was at home reading the newspaper, and reading it with extreme seriousness, the kind of seriousness where every single word was being etched into his brain.
Zhu Ling was taken aback. Her boyfriend had exactly two hobbies: watching movies and playing video games. Any spare time he had went to scrolling through short videos or fussing over his trendy look. Since she'd known him, she'd never once seen him read any book or paper—especially not some obscure little economic newspaper from out of town, all wrinkled and crumpled, the kind you'd find stuffed inside a delivery box.
Zhu Ling felt uneasy, because she knew this man. She asked him, "What's really going on with you?"
He said, "What do you mean, what's going on? I'm reading the newspaper. You always said I don't like to study or read—well, now I'm reading."
"But why this?"
"This paper's pretty good. I've been reading it for two hours already, and I could keep going slowly all day long."
Zhu Ling studied his expression carefully. He looked pleased and at peace, completely immersed in a state of near-numbed oblivion—a state she'd never seen in him before. An ordinary person might not notice anything wrong, but she'd spent time in the bar scene, seen all kinds of people, and it made her increasingly alarmed. She paced in and out, searched his little room, found nothing strange, but still worried and kept asking, "Are you okay?"
Her boyfriend finally deigned to look up from the newspaper and said, "Well, there is one thing."
"What thing?"
"The business I'm doing with my friends has reached the investment stage, but I don't have enough savings on hand. Can you lend me a bit?" He looked at her with eager eyes. "It'll pay for itself quickly. Don't worry."
She was both amused and annoyed: "Come on, you didn't have the money and you still talked with them for that long?"
He said, "I didn't expect it to need that much. How much can you come up with?"
"Baby, I'm a student who gets her living expenses from her parents. I have to make four trips back home just to get one month's allowance, and it's not even guaranteed—I have to clock in, do chores, the whole thing. What do you think I've got?"
"Go ask your dad. Doesn't need to be too much—eighty or a hundred thousand is fine. If that's really not possible, thirty or fifty thousand works too."
"Without a legitimate reason, my dad won't give it to me. Besides, those people aren't good people—how many times have I told you that?"
"Baby, just this once. If it fails, I'll never bring up business again. From then on, I'll just find a regular job and live a stable, peaceful life with you."
Seeing Zhu Ling hesitate, as if she were being swayed, her boyfriend added, "When those people bullied you and I stepped in and got my head split open, I didn't think twice or count the cost."
Zhu Ling said in a huff, "Fine, fine, fine. I'll ask my dad. But there's not even a one percent chance—my dad is no philanthropist!"
For a long while, the conversation revolved entirely around business, business, money, money, money. Zhu Ling was fed up and couldn't bear to stay any longer. She grabbed her bag and was about to leave when she heard her boyfriend say, "Baby, how much money do you have on hand right now? Lend it to me first."
Zhu Ling turned around, staring at him in disbelief. She wanted to say something, but in the end said nothing, and silently transferred every last cent in her phone to him.
Tuesday—the day after she'd transferred the few thousand yuan in her account to her boyfriend. She called her dad to ask for a loan. Of course, she adjusted the amount downward, asking for only fifty thousand. Zhu Zhangyang naturally asked what it was for, and she said she was lending it to a friend for business.
Zhu Zhangyang said, "Use that little brain of yours and think—what kind of person borrows money from a student to do business? Ridiculous, isn't it? There are so many ways to borrow money these days—which app can't lend you a few tens of thousands? Why would he fixate on you, a student? Is it because he can't borrow from anywhere else? Ever since high school, I've deliberately cultivated you, brought you to the company to gain experience—and what's the result? The more I cultivate you, the more childish you get; the more experience you gain, the more naive you become! Are you sure you haven't run into a scammer? Are you sure it's not a pig-butchering scheme?"
"He's a very good friend of mine, no problem with his character. He needs it to do business with his friends."
"Then he's the one who's run into a scammer and a pig-butchering scheme. Tell him to go file a police report right now. He got cheated, and I'm supposed to be the sucker who pays for it? Don't make me laugh!"
"The fifty thousand will be earned back quickly, and then I'll pay you back with interest."
"A business with a 100% profit margin—I've never heard of such a thing in all my born days. Is your friend's friend from one of those special zones? And what kind of business is it? A fraud scheme?"
"Then… can it be less? Thirty thousand?"
"Stop messing around. The company has to attend a global food expo in Lujiazui in a couple of days—there's a thousand things to handle, and I'm busy here. I don't have time to listen to your daydreams. You focus on your studies and mind your own business!"
The day after tomorrow was the exhibition day. Early in the morning, the exhibiting employees gathered at the company first. All the promotional materials, samples, and giveaways were already prepared—they just needed everyone to arrive, grab their things, and head to the exhibition together by car. The original plan was for everyone to meet at the office at 08:00, but by 07:59, Qian Xinyi was still nowhere to be seen. Zhu Zhangyang grew impatient and kept calling her to hurry her up.
Five more minutes passed before Qian Xinyi finally arrived, looking unhurried. The moment she walked in, she immediately asked Zhu Zhangyang for leave: "I actually set out early, but on my way here, I ran into a fight. Two men were arguing on a small road—one grabbed the other by the neck, choked him until he passed out, then slammed him onto the ground, killing him on the spot. I stopped my car and called the police, which delayed me until now."
The elegant lady's charming, melodious voice made people lose focus. Zhu Zhangyang listened, stunned, and before he could fully process the fact that a murder had occurred in broad daylight, she continued: "The police just called me and said I'm an eyewitness. They want me to go to the police station to give a statement. I won't be able to make it to the exhibition—you'll need to find someone to cover for me." With that, she quickly clocked in and hurried off to the police station to testify.
With a murder case happening, what could Zhu Zhangyang say? No matter how busy the exhibition was or how important business was, it had to yield to police and judicial work. He simply couldn't arrange anyone to fill in, and with no other option, fearing chaos in the midst of the rush, he called Zhu Ling: "Can you take the day off today? If you want to earn some extra cash, I've got an opportunity here. That Global Food Expo we talked about yesterday—I'm short one person. Come help me watch the booth and lend a hand."
"How much? Thirty thousand?"
"Are you ever going to drop that? You think I make thirty thousand as easily as eating a bowl of rice? Two thousand!"
"Two thousand isn't enough—I won't go. I want to buy figurines, my phone is old and needs replacing, and I'm planning to go to a concert. Two thousand won't cut it."
"Three thousand then. It's family work—you'd have to come even without pay, and you're still bargaining with me? You little brat, you're getting way too spoiled!"
"Three thousand is unlucky. Add 888 yuan—you'll prosper, and so will I."
"……"
Zhu Ling had originally been on her way to school, but once the price was settled, she called her teacher to ask for leave over the phone, took the subway to the Lujiazui Exhibition Center, and went to help her dad watch the booth.
The morning rush was heavy. They had to greet visitors, hand out samples, giveaways, and promotional materials, and offer free tastings on-site—four or five people were all running around like crazy. Moreover, whenever Zhu Ling stood at the outermost spot, a crowd of young men would line up. A tiny booth, because of Zhu Ling, somehow created the vibe of a live fan meet-and-greet. Zhu Zhangyang watched with secret pride and had Zhu Ling stand outside handing out flyers to attract customers.
The two salespeople noticed that the neighboring booths on both sides were far quieter than theirs. They felt both secretly pleased and amused: "Our young miss is like a lucky cat."
After eleven o'clock, the crowd dispersed and things eased up a bit. Zhu Ling pulled out her homework from her bag and sprawled over the booth table to do her assignments.
She was busy writing when she suddenly heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching from the front. She looked up and saw a group of men in suits walking and talking, and one of them seemed to mention the words "Young Master Huo." That title—she felt like she'd heard someone mention it once or twice somewhere long ago. The environment was noisy, so she didn't pay it much mind and lowered her head to keep writing.
The group of suited men had already walked past when they suddenly stepped back. Someone rapped his knuckles on her small table, and the next second, her homework was snatched from her hands. She looked up—and it was him again. Huo Shize. He'd changed his cologne today; otherwise, with her dog-like nose, she would have caught his scent when he passed by. Today's fragrance was a fresh citrus and neroli, with a steady amber and woody base beneath—a completely different style from when he wasn't working.
Huo Shize had one hand in his trouser pocket and used the other to pick up her homework, glance at it, and hand it back. His gaze then naturally fell on her face. She'd been heading to school today, so she wore no makeup—her face was clean and bare, her hair tied in a neat, crisp ponytail, and she was dressed in a yellow two-piece tracksuit. On the subway ride to the exhibition, she had stuck on two pairs of fake eyelashes to arm herself, but her father, afraid her fake lashes would scare off potential customers, had upped the price on the spot, paying her two hundred yuan to remove the heavy artillery.
Huo Shize had known her for a long time, but this was the first time he'd seen her like this—bare-faced, dressed like an ordinary female college student. Her skin was white as snow, her lips like cherry blossoms, her lashes thick and curled, fluttering like little fans when she blinked—far prettier than whatever fake lashes she'd bought wholesale from who knows where. She had less of that seductive charm from that day in the qipao with heavy makeup, but she was far more pleasing to look at, like a pearl with its own inner glow, making this unremarkable little stall shine two shades brighter than everything around it.
The moment he saw her, he froze, and only snapped out of it when Zhu Ling spoke.
Zhu Ling asked him curiously, "Why are you staring at me?"
He cleared his throat and said, "I noticed your forehead is a bit wide. You might look better with bangs."
She had grown up hearing people praise her for being cute and pretty. She remembered that when she was little, walking on the street, there would often be aunties and mothers stopping in their tracks, pointing at her and calling their companions over to look: "Come quick, look at this adorable little girl, such a pretty little thing!"
When she got a bit older, she often heard people praise her for having a full forehead—a sign of intelligence and good fortune. Having lived this long, this was the first time someone had criticized her facial features. She found it refreshing and, instead of getting angry, laughed: "This is a symbol of wisdom." She pulled a small mirror out of her bag, took a look at herself, then solemnly thanked her forehead, "Thank you, my forehead."
He remembered that when he'd seen her at the night market last time, she'd also thanked her chest in the same way. He couldn't help but burst out laughing.
Zhu Ling noticed that today he was again in a black suit with a black tie, so she pointed at her athletic wear and then at his suit, joking with him: "Today you're the black representative, and I'm the yellow representative." After saying this, she made a funny face and laughed.
Her makeup had been heavy and in a grunge style before, with a strong visual impact—either hard to look at or dazzling to the eyes. It wasn't until today that he discovered she actually had a pair of small dimples when she smiled.
He took a few glances at her family's small booth and asked, "Your family's?"
She hummed in acknowledgment.
The sales lady had just run off to buy boxed lunches. The two bags were heavy with soup and rice, and the soup bowl had tipped over, threatening to spill. She called out from a distance: "Miss, miss, come help me take these!"
Huo Shize heard the words "miss" and smiled slightly again.
Zhu Zhangyang had been chatting with peers at the neighboring booth with his sales team when he happened to turn around and saw a group of men in suits lingering at his family's small booth. He hurried back, handing out promotional brochures and business cards. Huo Shize kept his hands in his pants pockets, and one of the men beside him reached out to take the card, giving it only a brief glance before stuffing it into his pocket. If not for Zhu Zhangyang's presence, he probably would have thrown it away. Their five-star hotel had extremely high requirements for suppliers, typically working with top-tier food companies. Santian Trading, a small unknown retailer like this, was completely unqualified and lacked the capability to supply them.
Zhu Zhangyang, reading the situation, immediately exchanged business cards with the suit-wearing man who had taken the brochure. Once he got the card, he looked at it carefully and immediately exclaimed with delight: "So you're the purchasing director at Boyue! Director Zhou, hello, hello. Your hotel is right nearby—I know it, I've been there! I had dinner there with a client a while back. Your western restaurant is truly top-tier in Shanghai. I hope we'll have the opportunity to cooperate with your hotel in the future!"
While Director Zhou was talking with Zhu Zhangyang, Huo Shize asked Zhu Ling on this side: "Skipping class again today?"
"I properly asked for leave, and there are no main courses today." She rested her chin on her hand and asked him in return, "Why are you here too?"
He let out a laugh through his nose: "Silly question. I'm working. I'm leaving."
"Bye."
She happened to turn around and met her father's bright, gleaming eyes, which startled her.
Zhu Zhangyang hadn't managed to get Huo Shize's business card, but he'd heard someone address him as "Young Master Huo," so he asked Zhu Ling: "That man just now—is he the general manager of Boyue? If his surname is Huo, then he must have some connection to the boss of Dinglong Real Estate Group, right? How do you know him?"
Zhu Ling said: "A relative's kid from his family also goes to our school. I've seen him at school, so that's how I got to know him."
"A child from the Huo family's relatives would go to the same school as you?"
"Who knows."
"Are you close with him?"
"Not really."
"What was he just saying to you?"
"Didn't you hear it too? He was asking if I was skipping class."
Zhu Zhangyang felt a tightness in his chest. This daughter of his—though she sat right in front of him, answering his questions, her eyes looking at him—what was hidden beneath her gentle tone was indifference, distance, and perfunctoriness. If he probed deeper, there was probably a bit of disgust as well. She treated him, her own father, worse than a stranger on the street. If not for the money he gave her, he could never get her to lift a finger. They were supposed to be family, yet he couldn't see through her personality or understand her heart. From temperament to appearance, from speech to mannerisms, there wasn't a single trace of him in her. Even the small details—her hands and feet, her hair, her ears—none of them resembled him in the slightest, to the point where he couldn't even say self-deprecating things like "at least I contributed."
So sometimes he would secretly wonder: is this child really his?
Around four in the afternoon, the exhibition ended. Before Zhu Ling left, Zhu Zhangyang said to her: "There's a company dinner tonight. You should come too."
Zhu Ling refused and left on her own. The rest of the group transported the remaining materials back to Santian Trading. When they arrived at the office, Qian Xinyi had just returned from spending most of the day testifying for the police. She was describing the experience to the accountant who had stayed behind at the company: "The policewoman who called me to ask about the situation and told me to come testify—her attitude was absolutely terrible, I'm telling you!"
The finance lady had heard all about the murder and its details that morning—two men got into an argument in a narrow alley, one strangled the other by the neck until he passed out, then, in a fit of madness, hoisted the body up and slammed it to the ground, killing him on the spot!
The finance lady's courage was as tiny as a sesame seed, and she had a vivid imagination to boot. The image of a man being thrown to his death in broad daylight—just thinking about it made her whole body tremble.
Over there, Qian Xinyi kept describing: "…I was the one who called the police, and I sacrificed half a day of work to help out. She spoke to me with such a terrible attitude, so I didn't hold back either—I told her: I'm a concerned citizen, not a criminal. I came to help, not to be interrogated. Kindly mind your tone!"
The sheer horror actually sparked the finance lady's curiosity instead. She desperately wanted to know what kind of blood feud existed between those two men that drove the killer to murder someone in such a brutal way. So she opened Weibo to check the local trending topics—all peaceful. Opened the news aggregator accounts—all peaceful. Opened the "Little Whistle Group" on WeChat, a chat dedicated to spreading city gossip—over three hundred members, every know-it-all and busybody in Shanghai gathered there, with intel faster than any official news outlet—also all peaceful. Opened the police bureau's public alerts—nothing.
Turning back, Qian Xinyi was still rattling on about the female officer's terrible attitude, getting angrier with each word, looking like she couldn't wait to call the citizen hotline to file a complaint.
The finance lady stared at her beautiful red lips opening and closing, and remembered what the sales lady had said with a giggle to Old Zhang and Xiao Yao after hearing the finance lady's reason for taking leave: "Our Shanghai has become a city where you can just stumble upon a murder on your way to work now. Scary stuff. You all be careful walking on the streets from now on!"
Having lived over thirty years as an easygoing, honest person, the finance lady felt, for the first time, a deep fear and an unbearable disgust toward another woman.
Zhu Ling finished her work at the exhibition, collected the day's labor payment her father had transferred, and immediately ran back to her rental apartment. She finished all her homework for the day, memorized a few vocabulary words, then went out to eat with her younger friends, wandered around, hung out, bounced around at a bar, and headed back around nine-something to wash up and go to sleep. Around ten-something, she'd already finished a dream when a phone call came—a same-city express courier was knocking at her door, calling her out to sign for a package.
She didn't remember ordering anything that needed express delivery. Half-dazed as she signed for it, she casually asked the courier, "Who sent this to me?"
The courier told her, "Picked up from the Lujiazui area." Then, after a moment's thought, added, "The service desk of a five-star hotel—the Boyue."
Back in her room, she opened it to find a beautiful gift box tied with a bow. Inside were two items. One was a manito silk camisole nightgown—scalloped round neckline, lace accents, playful, sweet, full of girlish charm. The other was the latest model iPhone. Her phone was old; she'd been wanting to upgrade but never got around to it—and someone had noticed.
The phone was already set up, ready to use. The screen lock password was easy to guess—she got it on the first try. Her birthday. She opened it and found a name already saved in the contacts—an English name.
She walked out to the balcony and called the person in her contacts using the new phone. He picked up quickly. Perhaps because it was nighttime, his voice sounded slightly deeper than usual: "Hello, you have Jason."
She forgot what she'd wanted to ask him. She gnawed at her fingernails for a long while before saying, "Why did you have these delivered to me?"
"Your birthday gift."
"Oh." A pause, then she asked again, "Where are you now?"
"Hotel room."
"Do you live there?"
"When work runs too late."
She didn't say thank you, and he didn't wish her a happy birthday. For a moment, neither could think of anything to say, and the conversation fell into a brief silence—so they just listened to each other breathing through the receiver. His was a bit heavier.
She kept gnawing her fingernails, gazing up at the sky. Tonight there was wind but no moon, and her heart stirred faintly. After another long moment, she blurted out a strange question: "What did you study in university?"
"Business administration, with psychology as an elective."
"Then tell me—what am I thinking right now?"
"Right now you can't focus. There's nothing going through your mind." A pause. "And you're unconsciously gnawing your fingers."
She quickly pulled her hand back and hid it. "Then what about you? What are you thinking right now?"
"What sleeping position you'll be in tonight."