The Red Residence couldn’t be called extravagant, but it was certainly spacious. Even with a group of people crowding the entrance, there was still plenty of room to stand.
Zhang Mingsheng’s question was posed rather abruptly. Among this crowd, not a single pair could manage even ten minutes of conversation without tension in front of the others; it was only because Song Yixing, an outsider entirely detached from these grudges, had suddenly barged in that everyone was forced to sheath their blades, bury their hostility, and put on smiling faces for him.
He took it all at face value, even starting to sentimentalize about fate.
He turned to Zhang Mingsheng, his eyes curving into a smile and the tip of his nose twitching faintly as he spoke, “We were talking about the past. Brother Mingsheng, you’ve never believed in the almanac, but Mommy told me this morning that today is an auspicious day for visiting relatives and friends. Look, I originally came to visit Keke, but I ended up running into an old friend.”
“It’s a good thing you ran into an old friend, so your trip wasn’t in vain.” Zhang Mingsheng’s gaze remained fixed on Song Yixing as if no one else in the room existed. He said with a smile, “Though Keke might not necessarily remember you.”
“That’s not necessarily true,” Song Yixing laughed brightly. “Keke and I share a certain kind of fate.”
With that, he turned his head to look forward again. When his gaze drifted toward me, his eyelashes stopped blinking for a fraction of a second.
He had inherited his mother’s face and his father’s eyes. When he was lively, he smiled with narrowed eyes, revealing nothing. Once he grew still, those eyes held the steady, scrutinizing look his father reportedly had while navigating the turbulent seas of business.
Years ago, I had met him once; he had even taken a photograph of me.
Could he have recognized me too?
In an instant, my heart began to thud, beating faster and faster.
Within seconds, my imagination had already escalated to the point of Zhang Mingsheng drawing a revolver.
The reality, which surprised me but also brought a wave of relief, was that he merely gave me a graceful, unapologetic nod of greeting.
Then, he softly called me, “Sister-in-law.”
It turned out he felt apologetic for not greeting me first upon entering.
The children of the Song family were all very well-bred and mannerly, which actually made me feel quite uncomfortable. The cold sweat prompted by my imagination hadn’t even settled on my back yet, and my smile was momentarily awkward. I wanted to return the pleasantry but didn’t know what to say, so I settled for a stiff nod.
“If you like children that much, why not let your daddy and mommy give you another little sister?” Zhang Mingsheng suddenly interjected, drawing everyone’s attention back to himself. The way he spoke to Song Yixing was very much like an elder teasing a child.
Then again, Young Master Song was indeed very young, so it didn’t seem out of place.
Moreover, Song Yixing’s mind worked quite smoothly; since Zhang Mingsheng treated him like a child, he simply adopted the demeanor of a child imitating an adult. His faint brows slanted downward as he let out an exaggerated, mock-serious sigh:
“My mommy hardly even wanted me; she only wants to travel the world. And Daddy? He still treats her like she’s twenty, eager to follow her every whim. I’ll never have a biological sister in this life, so I’ll just have to treat Keke as my own sister. Sister-in-law, you won’t mind, right?”
Song Yixing tossed the conversation back to me again as if he were determined to hear me speak.
Before I could finish saying “Of course not,” Zhang Mingsheng interrupted once more. He said, “If Keke is your sister, then you’ll have to change ‘Brother Mingsheng’ to ‘Uncle Mingsheng.’ If we ever met at a banquet or a drinking party, your daddy would blame me for not knowing my place.”
Years ago, Zhang Mingsheng indeed had a period where he didn’t follow the rules; one could imagine his reputation within the Song family wasn’t particularly favorable.
However, over the years, the relationship between the Zhang and Song families had remained decent enough on the surface. Strictly speaking, Xiao Song and Zhang Mingsheng belonged to the same generation. If Xiao Song were to recognize Keke as his sister, then wouldn’t Zhang Mingsheng end up becoming “brothers” with his nominal uncle in name? Besides, Xiao Song didn’t have a sister, but Meme already had a brother of her own.
Thinking of this, I suddenly felt a pang of guilt: it was a good thing Zhang Xiaoyuan wasn’t here; otherwise, seeing my reaction would surely give him more to brood over.
There is nothing good about big families; they are nothing but social obligations and taboos. I never thought I’d be grateful for being abandoned by my parents at birth, spared from thirty-plus years of navigating interpersonal politics and superficial pretenses.
Now even Song Yixing was momentarily speechless. He kept smiling, letting out a couple of awkward chuckles, but couldn’t piece together a coherent reply. For an instant, the atmosphere turned so still that it felt like you could hear a pin drop.
I was so embarrassed I felt goosebumps rising.
I guessed he wouldn’t be eager to visit the Zhang household again anytime soon. After all, seeing Keke was apparently more difficult than urging his doting parents to have another child, especially since Keke had a biological father who could switch from a smiling face to cold-blooded ruthlessness in an instant.
But Zhang Mingsheng didn’t let the awkwardness linger for long. I wasn’t sure if it was because I felt a sense of gratitude toward Song Yixing, or if Zhang Mingsheng truly had a good impression of the young man—certainly a hundred times better than his impression of Li Yi, who had been left out in the cold for ten minutes.
In any case, he was relatively lenient with Song Yixing, quickly throwing out the next conversation starter, “You two know each other?”
He changed his shoes, led the group further into the living room, and then stepped behind my wheelchair to push it forward.
“I once met this officer before; at the Zhang residence, actually, quite a long time ago,” Song Yixing said as he followed along. “But I don’t think you were there then, Brother Mingsheng. You’d already run off to the mountains to set off fireworks. You were truly carefree.”
As he spoke, he pulled out a dark brown, polished leather wallet, opened it, and pinched a photograph with his fingers. “Look, I even kept the photo. I snapped a picture of this officer and his colleague.”
“A big star like you keeping other people’s photos in your wallet? Aren’t you afraid the paparazzi might catch a glimpse?” Zhang Mingsheng said as he reached the sofa. He adjusted the direction of my wheelchair, then sat down composedly before folding his hands over his lap as he teased Song Yixing.
“When I was a kid, I wanted to be a photographer, but I really have no talent. This is the only photo my daddy and mommy ever praised.” Xiao Song gave a helpless smile while looking down at the photo himself. “Though, I suspect Mommy only praised it because both officers looked so spirited, not because of my skills.”
Song Yixing looked up, directing his gaze toward Li Yi, who hadn’t spoken all day. He said, “I really wanted to send this to you back then, but I was worried your claim of being police officers was just a prank, so I kept it all this time. Now I can finally hand it to you in person, Inspector Li.”
His arm remained suspended in the air as he offered the photo.
But Li Yi didn’t reach out to take it.
Once again, the atmosphere turned subtle.
Unexpectedly, yet somehow fitting the situation, Zhang Mingsheng stood up and plucked the photo from the air, then sank back into the sofa and crossed his legs.
He looked genuinely intrigued.
But Song Yixing still hadn’t given up on trying to engage Li Yi; as someone favored by fortune, he naturally had moments of stubborn persistence.
He asked Li Yi, “What happened to the other officer? I remember his surname was… was… Yu…”
It felt as if a sharp arrow had pierced through my brain. I furtively scanned the people around me; even my mentor, an experienced veteran of many battles, froze unnaturally the moment that question was blurted out.
Looking back at Zhang Mingsheng, I saw that he was still staring at the photograph, his eyelids slightly lowered, leaving his expression impossible to read.
“Ah, him,” Li Yi responded quickly this time. He said, “He’s dead.”
“How could that happen? What happened?” Song Yixing’s eyes widened in shock.
“An accident.”
An accident. It was actually an accident.
Not killed in the line of duty, not missing, but an accidental death.
The conclusion of my entire life was being described with such casual brevity, and the narrator was the very brother and friend who had spent decades by my side. I thought I had long since accepted my own death, but hearing this news from Li Yi’s mouth filled me with a profound sense of indignation.
I had no place to join this conversation; to speak would be to reveal a world-shattering truth that would lead to a desperate, life-and-death struggle where no one would emerge unscathed. To prevent a bloodbath, I could only glare intensely at the oil painting hanging in the living room, which depicted a sunset tide that could have been either a river or the sea.
My eyes shifted and caught sight of a pair of feet in gray cotton slippers pitter-pattering down the stairs. Hearing the noise of his father returning home and worrying about the fate of his gaming career, Zhang Xiaoyuan had planned to come downstairs to negotiate. In an instant, everyone’s eyes turned toward him, forcing him to halt right in the middle of the mahogany staircase. Being a child and naturally shy around strangers, he likely hadn’t expected so many guests. He took a few steps back, turned around, and ran upstairs again, his heavy footsteps fading as they disappeared around the spiral staircase before I even had a chance to introduce him.
I looked back just as Li Yi happened to be turning his head away as well.
With one little episode following another, no one could find anything to say now.
In the end, it was Li Yi who pierced through this flimsy, artificial veil. He said, “Mr. Zhang, Mrs. Zhang, it’s getting late. We’ll take our leave now.”
I snapped my head toward Zhang Mingsheng, but he hesitated to give so much as a nod.
Li Yi couldn’t be bothered to wait for his permission; he was merely giving notice. He turned to leave.
Seeing that Li Yi was truly departing, Song Yixing reached out and grabbed the sleeve of Li Yi’s jacket, refusing to let go, while extending his other hand toward Zhang Mingsheng while gesturing for the photo. “Since I finally ran into Inspector Li, I still want to return this photograph to him.”
Li Yi temporarily halted his steps after being pulled back.
Yet Zhang Mingsheng remained as still as a mountain, showing absolutely no intention of handing the photo back, leaving Song Yixing’s hand hanging in mid-air.
“…Brother Mingsheng? Brother Mingsheng?” Seeing no reaction, Song Yixing called out to him twice.
Zhang Mingsheng was still smiling as if murmuring to himself, yet his voice was just loud enough for everyone to hear: “This colleague of Inspector Li’s really doesn’t know how to dress. Fortunately, he still looks decent no matter what he puts on.”
Hearing him tease the old me like that made me impatient. I thought to myself: In that photo, I was clearly wearing your coat; and only because you insisted I put it on.
Feeling utterly restless, I looked down at my ivory trousers, and then my heart skipped a beat as the realization hit me: he wasn’t just talking about the past me; he was simultaneously mocking the me of today. I’d never been particularly good at coordinating outfits, and these days opening the wardrobe felt like trying to decipher some cryptic ancient text.
I was just a poor kid from the countryside, how could my taste ever meet his standards?
I rolled my eyes inwardly.
Nonetheless, I self-consciously tugged at the hem of my sweater, trying to appear natural and relaxed. As I shifted slightly, my eyes flicked around and happened to catch Li Yi looking at me. The moment he realized I’d noticed, he quickly looked away. He must have been scrutinizing my clothes just now as well.
Now I was truly annoyed.
I had actually forgotten that there was more than one young master who frequently mocked my taste in clothes.
Oh, enough! I know my outfit is a mess, alright? It’s been hard enough just staying alive. Why do you all have to be so picky!
I pushed away the biscuits Aunt Liu offered and steered my wheelchair away.
Ah Hai stepped over in a few strides and began pushing me toward the garden.
I called his name; with practiced understanding, he leaned down and placed his ear near my face.
I asked him in a low voice, “Do I look very bad in what I’m wearing today?”
Ah Hai’s reply was polite and sincere without a hint of hesitation at all, “For pajamas, comfort is all that matters.”
Upon hearing this, I snapped my head away, refusing to say another word.
I was clearly wearing a sweater!
