Chapter 2
Chapter 2
At 8 p.m., Du Yuejia returned to the country, S11-club.
Before leaving work, I received a WeChat message from Duan Guanqin.
Read, deleted.
“Can’t find it.”
Qi Sen called me just as I got back to my apartment.
“Can’t find what?” I asked, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I changed my shoes.
“Cameras.” Qi Sen’s voice was laced with amusement. “Well, well, Niangniang, are you teasing me?”
I was taken aback. “You really couldn’t find them?”
“I searched everywhere,” he said, with loud music in the background, as if someone was calling him.
“Are you coming to see me tonight?” he asked.
“No.”
I hung up. The phone showed exactly 8 p.m.
Time for my online class.
I opened my TOEFL notes and began speaking English with the friendly foreign teacher on the screen.
“Why not come?” Duan Guanqin’s voice was unreadable.
“There were no cameras in your car.” I took a sip of water, then changed the subject. “Were you testing me?”
“What are you guilty about?” he asked.
“What do you care about?” I countered.
“I care?” His voice finally rose with emotion. “You want me to care?”
The question came out as a statement.
His trademark blind confidence.
The elderly foreign teacher on the computer called my name, tapping his watch to signal the break was over.
“So you’re down to tricks like this with the foreign guy?” Duan Guanqin laughed scornfully. “It’s useless.”
“When did you start taking English lessons?”
His face clouded with displeasure as he stopped at a red light.
Outside, it was a cold night of neon and drizzle.
“Half a year ago.” I gazed out the window, which reflected Duan Guanqin’s profile in the car.
Half an hour earlier, he had shown up at my apartment door with the same expression.
Only angrier.
“Why are you learning English?” he asked.
“Why did you come to my apartment?” I shot back.
He turned to look at me, his eyes carrying the kind of mist unique to cold nights.
The mist would spread, clinging to my skin in the cramped car.
“You tell me,” he said teasingly.
The light turned green, and the car moved.
His expression cleared, returning to his usual calm and restraint.
Du Yuejia was still so young.
“Let’s wish President Du a happy thirty-third birthday!”
As soon as we entered the private room, we heard someone shout.
Du Yuejia spotted me across the crowd, and then Duan Guanqin behind me.
“Hey, President Du’s little sister is here,” someone called.
I was pushed to the front, facing him directly.
He wore a cream-colored cashmere sweater and raised his hand as if to pat my head, but his gaze flickered past Duan Guanqin, and then his hand landed on my shoulder instead.
“Haven’t seen you in years,” he said. “You’ve aged.”
He smiled and withdrew his hand.
The last time I heard him use the word “aged” was when I was nineteen.
Back then, Du Yuejia said to me, “Call me ‘hubby’ one more time, and I’ll forgive you.”