Lady's Home

Chapter 29

His glance reminded her of what happened on her first night staying at the Jane's house.

That night, she had just returned to Jian Zhen's room after taking a shower when he arrived. He was dressed in all white, a white t-shirt and white athletic shorts, and looked anxious, as if he was looking for something. He rummaged through the room, opening drawers and crawling under the desk.

"What are you looking for?" she asked him as she combed her hair.

"I'm looking for my CD. That Jian Zhen, he keeps taking my things!" he complained angrily while squatting on the ground.

"What a great CD," she muttered, climbing barefoot onto the bed and sitting in the middle, picking up a movie magazine. It was a gift from Jian Dongping's father, Lawyer Jian. She'd always loved movie magazines, but had never bought one herself—she thought they were too expensive. She usually just borrowed ones from colleagues and flipped through them casually, never really looking at them carefully. This time, she was determined to properly enjoy reading a movie magazine. While she was engrossed in reading, he frantically searched the room. After a while, he stopped, as if suddenly remembering something, and leaned over the bed, lifted the sheet, and pulled out a cardboard box. A moment later, she heard him grumbling.

"As expected, it's here—Jian Zhen!"

She glanced at him and saw that he had a CD in his hand.

What movie is it?

“Mayumi Itsuwa, my best companion on the highway,” she heard him reply.

She had never heard of this person, so it was none of her business. She buried her head in her magazine and continued reading.

Then came one minute of silence.

She sensed something was wrong and was about to look away from the movie magazine when she felt a warm hand grip her foot. Startled, she nearly dropped the magazine. Then she saw his hand holding her foot, his thumb gently tracing the instep. She trembled, her heart pounding wildly.

"Are you sick?" she said, blushing, pulling her foot back and slipping out of his grasp.

"Your feet are so fat, I can't even feel the bones." His voice was barely audible; she could barely hear what he was saying, and frankly, she didn't want to hear it. She just thought bitterly to herself, "What business is it of yours whether my feet are fat or thin? How could you do such a thing? We're just friends, is this something ordinary friends should do?"... Now she didn't want to see him at all, and was too embarrassed to look. She covered her face with a movie magazine, hoping he would understand and leave quickly. Normally, after being given the cold shoulder, he would leave immediately, or at least make a few sarcastic remarks before leaving. But this time was different. One second, two seconds, three seconds passed, and he didn't make a single move.

She couldn't help but look up at him, only to find him frozen in place, still lying by the bed, his hands on the bed, staring at her without moving, his eyes wider than ever before.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked him.

He didn't answer, he just looked at her, a look he had never given her before. She couldn't describe it, but she remembered a mute girl who had been caught stealing and had given her a similar look. If she had to put it into words, it would be a question repeated three times: "Am I finished? Am I finished? Am I finished?" before giving a definite answer: "I am finished."

That's the look in their eyes; they can't say it, and they know that pleading won't help.

What's wrong with him? For a moment, she forgot about the little incident that had just happened.

She tried to pull him up, but the moment her hand touched his arm, he swayed and stood up, then collapsed onto the bed as if he had lost his balance, startling her. He lay face down beside her, twisting and turning, then buried his head in a blanket.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked, puzzled.

He turned his head, revealing only one eye as he looked at her without saying a word. Then, to her surprise, she noticed that he seemed to be trembling all over, and sweat was starting to appear on his forehead. For some reason, although he was only looking at her coldly with one eye, and his face showed no particular expression, she had a vague feeling that he was in great pain.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked again.

He didn't speak.

"Are you feeling unwell? I'll go get your father." She began to genuinely worry about him.

He saw her about to get up and grabbed her arm with a snap. His hand was wet. "I... my stomach isn't feeling well. Let me rest for a bit. Don't go, stay with me for a while. I... I just need to rest a little, that'll be enough," he said, panting.

He was speaking incoherently, like a dying man, his body trembling uncontrollably. She had experienced stomach aches before, and she knew how painful they were. But this seemed to be the first time he had a fit in front of her; there hadn't been any warning signs before, and he had been quite cheerful at the meal. She saw him close his eyes, breathing heavily, convulse, sweat pouring down his forehead, his hair soaked, and his shirt completely drenched. He must be in terrible pain, and she felt a pang of sympathy for him. She wanted to touch his head, but she didn't dare.

"Should I get you some medicine?" she asked softly.

He kept his eyes closed and didn't answer. After a few minutes, he suddenly released her arm, exhausted, and slowly got out of bed, looking like he was recovering from a serious illness, pale and covered in sweat. He didn't say a word to her or even look at her, and quickly walked out of the room, without even taking the CD.

An hour later, she took the CD to him and found him sitting on the wicker chair on the balcony, lost in thought. He had obviously taken a shower and changed his clothes, and there was a lemony scent of shower gel on his body.

“You forgot your CD,” she said, standing behind him.

"Just put it on the table, I'll get it later," he replied without turning around.

His voice was low and melancholic, unusually so. What was wrong with him? Was his stomach still hurting? She was curious, but she didn't dare ask; she had a vague feeling that it was taboo. She just stared blankly at the back of his head, the small section of white nape of his neck peeking out from under his black t-shirt, his bare arm casually draped over the balcony door… Her mind was a blur; she forgot to speak, forgot what she should do, and just stared blankly at his back.

His fingers seemed to be tapping out a rhythm, and she suddenly realized that his fingers were very long.

She stood behind him for a while, then he suddenly turned around and smiled at her.

"Go to sleep, Ling Ge, it's getting late."

"Okay, sure," she replied.

She felt he had exerted a great deal of effort to force that smile. Although he was smiling and his demeanor was calm, she could clearly sense his deep despair. He seemed like a convict who had just been sentenced, comforting his family, as if to say, "It's okay, I'm fine, I can handle it." But anyone could see it was a devastating blow; he was actually heartbroken. She didn't know what was wrong with him, feeling both curious and sad, but she dared not ask, nor could she. The moment he turned to look at her from the shadows, her heart skipped a beat. She was surprised to find him strikingly handsome. She dared not look any longer, nor speak to him. She feared that if she continued, she might not be able to resist comforting him, and most terrifyingly, she might touch his head. Thinking of the ridicule she might receive for doing so, she hurriedly ran to her room.

That night, she didn't hear him close the bedroom door until midnight.

She was initially worried that he would still be depressed the next day, but she soon found that her worries were unnecessary. He quickly returned to normal and became a sarcastic joker.

After Jian Dongping sat down, he found a plate under the coffee table, placed the orange in the center of the plate, and cut it in half with a knife.

“Okay, tell me about your situation,” he said calmly.

“I’ve looked everywhere, but I haven’t found anyone with chewing gum on their slippers. They don’t wear slippers in the hallway; they only wear them in their rooms.” Ling Ge watched him scoop out the pulp from half an orange and put it on a plate, not understanding what he was doing.

“I’ve got a question, Ling Ge. If you’re wearing flat sandals, wouldn’t it be easy to spot if chewing gum is stuck underneath?” He carefully scooped vanilla ice cream into the half-orange with a spoon.

“I’ve seen this; our slippers have a lot of holes on the bottom.”

"Are all slippers the same?" he asked.

Ling Ge nodded.

“The slippers for the Shen family are all knitted by Zhang Yufen. Fang Rouzhi used to knit them too, but Old Madam Shen thought they weren’t good enough and stopped her from knitting them. Zhang Yufen was quite angry about that; she said Fang Rouzhi did it on purpose. Besides, even if they’re flat, even if she notices immediately, it’s hard to leave no trace. Chewing gum is hard to clean completely, isn’t that what you said?” Ling Ge watched him skillfully chop some orange pulp and sprinkle it on the ice cream, wondering who it was for. Was it for himself? That would be too much of a fuss. Could it be for me? Before she could think any further, she saw him stick a spoon into the orange ice cream and hand it to her.

"Eat up, this is for you. I'm sorry, I was in a hurry on my way back and forgot to buy you anything nice to eat."

As expected, it was for me. Ling Ge happily accepted the ice cream, thinking to himself, "No local specialty can compare to this homemade orange ice cream."

"Thank you. Aren't you going to eat any?" she asked with a smile, only to realize later that he had never liked sweets.

He wiped his hands with a tissue and took out paper, pen and a copy of "Lady's House" from his bag.

"Was Zhou Jin's mark useful to you?" she asked.

“Very useful. I’ve photocopied all those sections. By the way, when you checked Zhou Jin’s markings, were you sure you didn’t miss anything?”

"Of course not! I checked it carefully from beginning to end twice. Don't underestimate me, okay!" Ling Ge argued loudly. She didn't like being looked down upon, especially not by him.

Normally, he, who tends to be a bit of a opportunist, would have taken the opportunity to hold her hand or put his arm around her shoulder to comfort her. But today, sitting next to her, he was very proper, simply smiling at her and saying:

"That's good. I'll show you the few paragraphs I photocopied now, see if you can find anything." As he spoke, he took a photocopy out of his bag and placed it in front of her. "Actually, there are only three paragraphs."

Ling Ge started watching while eating ice cream.

The first paragraph is the second section on page 34. The article is written by Shen Biyun in the first person.

"Having grown up in the United States, he was completely incompatible with me, a Chinese woman who had received Marxist-Leninist education for many years. For example, I have no taboos about numbers; whether it's '13' or '4,' I don't care. I believe my luck has nothing to do with these numbers. But he was different; he was almost eccentric in this regard. He really liked even numbers and hated odd numbers, insisting that even numbers were more auspicious. I remember one evening not long after we met, he shyly asked my age. I said I was 6 years younger than him, and he breathed a huge sigh of relief. He said he was very happy that I was 6 years younger than him, not 5 or 7. I really wanted to tell him that according to Chinese custom, a '6-year age difference' between a man and a woman is considered inauspicious, but seeing how happy he was, I had to swallow my words. After we got married, he even made a pearl necklace for each of our children as a meeting gift, always a multiple of 6. I think he was very old-fashioned in this regard."

The second paragraph is section 3 on page 89.

"I was feeling down. Zeng Hong had an accident, the house was in chaos, and there was a huge pile of things waiting for me at the company. Now I finally understand the meaning of a strong woman. If you don't even have time to grieve, then you really have become a strong woman. After returning from the company, I was busy comforting my daughters while also organizing books with Yu Fen. That day was really unlucky. First, Yu Shan broke one of my favorite antique vases. Then I found that I was missing two of the ropes I had prepared to use to tie the books, so I couldn't tie the remaining two bundles of books and had to ask Yu Fen to go out and buy more. Then I found that Fang Qi didn't come back until late at night. She had been in a bad mood for the past few days. I think she must have encountered something related to 'love' again. She is a beautiful and smart girl, but she has never been mature in matters of the heart."

The third paragraph is on page 142. Ling Ge remembers that Zhou Jin drew a five-pointed star above this paragraph in the book. He doesn't know what the difference is between this five-pointed star and the previous underlined paragraph.

"I expected my family to strongly oppose the marriage from the very beginning. But I think that at my age, I have the right to do what I want, and I also have the right to do some outrageous things. Since everyone thinks I'm a strong woman, I think I should let everyone see my strong side. Zhiwen may not be a suitable husband, but his existence has given me great satisfaction. To me, he's more like a younger friend who's my husband despite the age gap. He's very willing to talk to me and cares about me a lot. After my son passed away, I developed the habit of going to the living room late at night for a glass of red wine, and he always advised me not to drink late at night. He himself rarely drinks, and he's very good at that. He's also very loving and kind to the family dog. Although Yushan has always opposed Xiaosu, the dog likes him very much and always likes to snuggle up to his feet whenever it sees him."

"Have you finished reading?" Jian Dongping asked her.

Ling Ge nodded.

What are your thoughts?

“Su Zhiwen must be a good person, because the puppy likes him.” Ling Ge didn’t actually see anything. Her mind was filled with the sweet feeling of ice cream, and she had no ability to think. But as soon as she said it, she realized that it was really unprofessional for a policeman to say such a thing. She wanted to make amends, but she couldn’t think of anything suitable to say. So she put another bite of ice cream in her mouth and glanced at him.

He watched her eat with a smile and asked, "Is someone a puppy likes a good person?"

"Just say what you're thinking, stop beating around the bush." Ling Ge disliked his half-mocking tone.

"Watch it again," he persisted.

Why do you always test me?

"Then wait a minute." Ling Ge said angrily as she read the three paragraphs again. This time she saw the problem. She put down her finished ice cream and pointed to the middle paragraph, "Zhou Jin asked Zhang Yufen about the rope."

"Really?" Jian Dongping was pleasantly surprised, then asked, "What else did you find out from Zhang Yufen today?"

Ling Ge recounted his conversation with Zhang Yufen in detail.

"I never imagined that Grandma Shen wanted to introduce Fang Qi to you back then."

“I knew nothing about this. My dad must have blocked it for me. I didn’t even know my dad was Shen Biyun’s legal advisor,” Jian Dongping said absentmindedly. Ling Ge knew he was thinking about something else.

He looked at the photocopy of "Lady's House," pondered for a moment, and said, "Ling Ge, I need to figure out a few things now." His voice was deep, which caught her attention, and she knew he was about to say something important.

"What is it?" she asked quickly.

"Tell me first, whose rooms are on either side of your room?"

"On one side is Yushan's room, and on the other side is Fang Rouzhi's room."

"There should be two rows of rooms on the second floor, right? Besides the three rooms you just mentioned, are there any other rooms in your row?"

"There's nothing there except a toilet."

"What about the row on the other side?"

"Across from us are the rooms of Grandma Shen, Fang Xiaoxi, and Fang Qi. Grandma Shen and Fang Qi both have toilets in their rooms. Fang Xiaoxi does not."

"You're saying the room you're staying in now was originally Fang Qi's room?"

“Yes.” Ling Ge nodded.

"Have the other people's rooms been changed?"

"All I know is that Fang Rouzhi's room used to be a guest room, and my room used to be Fang Qi's room."

When did Fang Qi change rooms?

"It was shortly after Zeng Hong passed away. I asked Yu Shan about this. She said Fang Qi thought the room was smaller than her sister's, so she insisted on changing rooms, and in the end, Grandma Shen agreed. It seems like everyone in their family is very particular about these things."

Jian Dongping thought for a moment and asked, "Are there mirrors hanging in the downstairs hallway?"

"A mirror?" Ling Ge shook his head vigorously. "No."

"Are there any paintings hanging there?"

"Yes, there are paintings everywhere in their house, even four small oil paintings on the bathroom wall. They're so beautiful."

"Where does that painting hang in the downstairs corridor?" Jian Dongping stared at her intently.

She looked into his dark eyes, and her heart inexplicably trembled.

“Didn’t you go there too?” she whispered.

“I’ve only been there once, and I didn’t pay any attention to any of this,” he said, glancing at her.

"The painting was hanging on the wall, right opposite the stairs."