Zhang Mingsheng rarely mentioned his own birthday.
There were a few years when Keke had reached the age where she was interested in everything, often identifying various objects as if reciting a nursery rhyme. At first, she would point out clocks, vases, and the television, which made Aunt Liu beam with joy, repeatedly praising her as a child prodigy.
As she grew a bit older, Keke began to understand abstract concepts; for example, birthdays.
For Zhang Xiaoyuan’s seventh birthday, he chose the cake himself. At the dining table, Aunt Liu’s signature Cantonese dishes filled the spread, surrounding a blue cake engraved with two English words, the title of a very famous sci-fi film. There were said to be many installments in the series, though I never knew exactly how many, because I fell asleep halfway through every one I watched.
Zhang Mingsheng, however, sat through every single one with Zhang Xiaoyuan.
At the birthday feast, even after every surrounding plate was empty, Zhang Xiaoyuan was still unwilling to eat the cake. In the end, it was Zhang Mingsheng himself who took the knife and cut straight through the middle of the cake, splitting it like a planet. Zhang Xiaoyuan drooped his mouth in disappointment, half-heartedly taking his piece. But after the first bite, he immediately betrayed the Force and started eating in earnest.
Keke’s birthdays were organized by Zhang Yaonian to show how much he valued this great granddaughter. However, his guest list was long and complicated; with so many people, I usually wouldn’t stay for the whole event.
Then there was my birthday. Zhang Mingsheng would give me a few pieces of jewelry, take me out for a drive, and we’d have a meal.
But Zhang Mingsheng’s birthday? No one ever brought it up.
His birthdays were mostly just ordinary days.
Zhang Yaonian would make a show of calling to celebrate and have someone deliver a gift. Then, the tabloid reporters would photograph the whole thing. Zhang Mingsheng would accept it with a smile. This grandfather-and-grandson routine alone had once kept three different newspapers in business.
Keke once asked: Why isn’t Daddy happy on his birthday?
I held her and told her a few lies, “Daddy isn’t unhappy. Daddy just prefers celebrating your birthday more because your birth made Daddy so happy.”
“Then, Gege’s too!” Keke applied the logic.
“That’s right, Gege’ too.” I lowered my head.
“And Mommy’s too!” Having received validation, she spoke even more joyfully.
I didn’t respond, choosing instead to hold her and sway back and forth until she giggled out loud. She tilted her head back, looking at me upside down, and blinked as she asked, “Then when Daddy was born, was Mommy happy?”
I don’t remember how I answered at the time.
Having only just begun to grasp abstract concepts, a child could already pose questions as poignant and lingering as the night rain on Ba Mountain; it was questions that pierce through time and leap across space.
When Zhang Mingsheng was still a child, I was just as small and naive, newly arrived in the world. One year old, two, three—growing year by year, through the changing seasons. I watched every fallen leaf in the welfare home and every drop of rain from the sky, believing that the entire world was no larger than the courtyard of the orphanage.
How could we, two children, Zhang Mingsheng and I, have known that we would eventually become so inextricably entangled? That the process would be so appalling, and the ending so exceptionally tragic?
I had intended to refuse Zhang Mingsheng again, but then I remembered the director saying Auntie Yang had a younger sister. I decided to go to the Zhang family banquet to investigate.
Holding Zhang Mingsheng’s invitation, for some reason, Keke’s question kept drifting back into my mind. Was there truly anyone in this world who was genuinely happy because of Zhang Mingsheng’s birth? Even Auntie Yang didn’t love that family.
Was that the reason Zhang Mingsheng disliked celebrating his birthday?
I only thought about it for a second before I broke into a cold sweat.
I had actually begun to study that man again.
I could not completely uproot him from my mind, just as I could not deny that he had once exerted a powerful attraction over me.
Was there anyone in this world more weak-willed than I?
I covered my eyes with my arm.
On the day of Zhang Mingsheng’s birthday, I stood by the entrance, watching from a distance.
People gathered in a circle as the music gradually began to play. Zhang Mingsheng then appeared, dressed in a navy-blue suit and a tie, with a glittering silver diamond brooch pinned to his chest; the symbol of the Zhang family.
With elegant poise, he bowed his head slightly and extended his hand toward a woman in the crowd with a smile.
The woman held her chin high, exuding grace and luxury. At first glance, she seemed gentle, but her spirited eyes; despite the fine lines etched around them, retained a heroic flair that made her seem more vibrant than many of the young people present.
She reached out and placed her hand in Zhang Mingsheng’s palm. On her finger was a pigeon-egg-sized emerald, while her other hand lifted the hem of her dress as she stepped forward.
Zhang Mingsheng placed his arm around her waist, and under the watchful eyes of everyone present, they began to dance.
The woman was the more uninhibited of the two; her steps were perfectly timed and her movements crisp. Rather than being led by the music, she seemed to take control of it. The violins followed the sway of her emerald skirt like a rushing stream, winding and leaping with urgent speed.
Compared to her, even Zhang Mingsheng looked inexperienced.
She looked familiar, yet I had never met her.
Then, low whispers rippled through the crowd.
“Mrs. Tang hasn’t been back to Hong Kong in ages. She comes back just to hold the fort for Mr. Zhang, looks like her old fatyer was planning to make things difficult for his own nephew.”
“Mr. Tang is long gone. What kind of power can she still swing by coming back now?”
“You’re crazy. She doesn’t just have money now; she has means. All of Mr. Tang’s old subordinates are in her hands. Didn’t you see those two standing behind her earlier? Their backs were straight as tombstones; they are all ex-military.”
“What’s so great about being ex-military?” the man who kept getting shut down grumbled, refusing to let the conversation make him look ignorant.
I followed the guests’ gazes.
To my shock, I saw Ah-Hai and Ah-Shan.
In that case, this “Mrs. Tang” was naturally Zhang Mingsheng’s aunt. She was here to back him up.
The two of them danced joyfully, their movements growing faster and more demanding. It was as if they were competing; their smiles were exaggerated, but their eyes held the innate pride of tigers. It was here, in this very room, that Zhang Mingsheng would begin his steady march toward the man he was destined to become.
Under the lights, amidst the crowd, I watched his every shift and motion.
Suddenly, a sequence of piano notes cut through the air.
The crowd turned toward the source of the sound. Seated at the piano was Zhan Weiqing.
The guests behind me began dredging up old stories again.
“I heard the Zhang and Zhan families have an engagement?”
“Eh, that requires a man and a woman, doesn’t it? These are two men.”
“So, what if it’s not a man and a woman? Look at that devotion, who wouldn’t be moved? I heard that when Zhang Mingsheng was living on the streets and getting into trouble, Zhan Weiqing never left his side. And look at Zhan Weiqing now… you see that look in his eyes? He’s definitely gay.”
Zhan Weiqing was indeed loyal to a fault, but his affection was nothing more than something Zhang Mingsheng could exploit, drawing him step by step into the abyss of gambling. Even Zhang Yaonian joked that if two men loved each other, he wouldn’t complain. Hypocrisy at its finest.
I reached for a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray, and at that exact moment, my eyes locked with Zhang Mingsheng’s.
