Uncle Wang leaned back with a grin. “Twenty-three. I came back from the National Academy of War College in America last year.”
Father chuckled, shaking his head.
“Young people these days are amazing! We didn’t get promoted so quickly back then. I’ve been a jack of all trades, but only six levels in ten years. I can’t imagine how much gossip I’ve endured.”
He flipped through the file, squinting at the fine print.
“Hmm… born on July 7th…” He closed the folder and handed it back.
Uncle Wang teased,
“It’s over. No hope now. I was wishing you’d actually know my mother.”
Father laughed, and the uncles piled on with more stories, their banter filling the room. For once, Father was in high spirits, listening, asking questions, even smiling. They talked until my eyelids grew heavy.
When the gathering finally broke up, Father rose to see them off. They protested politely, “We wouldn’t dare,” but he stood watching as they filed out. I was about to whisper goodnight when his voice cut through the air:
“Shao Gong, I have something to tell you.”
Uncle Lei, the last to leave, froze. Once Father’s aide-de-camp, now a graying official, he instinctively straightened at the sound of his old title.
“Yes,” he answered, his tone still deferential.
I stifled a laugh at the sight. Something compelled me to linger in the shadows, pressed against the wall, waiting.
But Father said nothing. The silence stretched. My heart thudded.
At last, Uncle Lei spoke, his voice low but clear enough:
“Sir… what a coincidence… how is your birthday on July 7th?”
My pulse spiked. What did he mean?
Father remained silent.
Uncle Lei pressed on:
“Why don’t I get someone to check it out?”
My chest tightened. Check what out?
Finally, Father’s voice, heavy with memory:
“That child… didn’t he die at the age of three?”
Uncle Lei’s reply was grave.
“Yes. I was personally watching over him…”
The world roared in my ears, like fighter jets screaming overhead. My breath caught. A secret. A devastating, buried secret.
I strained to listen, catching only fragments—Uncle Lei’s repeated,
“Yes! Yes!…”
Then Father sighed, his voice breaking:
“It’s so similar, especially that pointed chin. Just like his mother…”
I bit my palm to keep from gasping. My father… had an old acquaintance. That striking young captain—could he be my father’s son?
Uncle Lei murmured,
“Don’t worry, I’ll send someone to check right away.”
Father’s voice trembled with pain.
“His mother back then…”
Thunder rolled through my skull. Who was she? Who was this woman who haunted him still?
Uncle Lei tried to soothe him.
“Don’t overthink it. I’ll check it out immediately.”
Then he left.
I bolted upstairs, collapsing onto my bed, my mind spinning. How could such a secret exist? How could such a person exist?
Sleep was a torment of nightmares. I woke drenched in sweat, dawn breaking through the curtains. The shower’s hot water steadied me, and I whispered to myself:
“I must do something. I must uncover the truth.”
So I acted.
I dressed quickly and told Director Liang I was visiting Grandpa Mu’s house. He suspected nothing and arranged a car.
Grandpa Mu’s grandson, Mu Shiyang—my childhood companion, clever and daring—met me at the door. I leaned close and whispered:
“I want to go to Fuhe River.”
He grinned.
“Okay, I’ll go with you.”
I glanced at the attendants.
“I don’t want to be followed.”
He laughed. We’d pulled this trick before. As Uncle Lei’s nephew, he had the authority to bend the rules.
“I have a plan.”
And he did. We pretended to retreat upstairs to play chess, then slipped down the servants’ staircase, through the garden, and into the garage. Moments later, his jeep roared to life, carrying us into the open road.
The rush of freedom made me want to shout. Two hours later, as the city of Fuhe loomed, I turned to him.
“I’m going to Wanshan.”
He frowned.
“Wanshan? It’s too late. I won’t make it back today.”
“I’m going to Wanshan!”
“No! My grandfather will scold me to death.”
I glared.
“If you don’t take me, I’ll ignore you forever. I mean it.”
He sighed, defeated.
“Okay, you’re so cruel.”
We drove along the highway until the green mountains of Wanshan appeared in the distance, the late sunlight spilling across the road like a stream of molten gold. He glanced at me, his tone casual but curious.
“Where in Wanshan do you want to go?”
“The Second Fleet Base,” I said.
His hands froze on the steering wheel. He turned to look at me, his expression a mix of disbelief and alarm. “What are you going there for?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He exhaled sharply. “You can’t get into that base. It’s a military zone. No civilians allowed.”
Without another word, I reached into my handbag and pulled out a special pass. The seal caught the light as I waved it. “With this, I can enter the Shuangqiao Residence. I doubt the Second Fleet Base has stricter security.”
For a moment, he simply stared at me—as if trying to decide whether I was dangerous or just insane. Finally, he muttered, “You really have nothing better to do,” and abruptly turned the car around.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“Taking you back to Wu Chi,” he snapped. “You’ve completely lost your mind.”
“I’m not being impulsive,” I said firmly. “I know exactly what I’m doing. If you don’t want to come, you can go back by yourself.”
He gave a low, frustrated laugh. “And let you wander around a military base alone? I’d be the fool then.”
“If you take me back now,” I said, voice trembling with defiance, “I’ll never speak to you again.”
He looked at me long and hard, reading the determination on my face. At last, he sighed in defeat. “Grandfather will skin me alive… and Uncle too. My God.”
“I’ll explain for you,” I said, softening.
He shot me a sideways glance. “Well, thank you in advance,” he said dryly.
We turned back toward the coast, stopping to ask directions from soldiers and villagers along the way. By the time we reached the outskirts of the base, dusk had fallen. The sky over the military port was breathtaking—a deep rose-purple fading into crimson at the horizon, streaked with the shimmer of the sea. The water was so dark it seemed almost violet, the gentle waves rolling in perfect, rhythmic arcs. In the crescent-shaped bay, the navy ships rested quietly, lined up like sleeping giants beneath the fading light.
Mu Shiyang went to negotiate with the sentry at the gate. He was clever, always had been, and after showing both our passes, the guard finally stepped aside. Once inside, he turned to me with an exasperated sigh. “Now will you tell me what you’re planning?”
“I’ll get out here,” I said. “You can go back.”
He slammed on the brakes so suddenly that I lurched forward against my seatbelt. “You must be out of your mind,” he said. “There’s no way I’m leaving you here alone.”
“I don’t want anyone to know what I’m about to do,” I muttered.
“If you try that, I swear I’ll drag you back myself—even if you never speak to me again in this life or the next.”
His anger startled me. I hesitated, then relented. “Fine. I’m looking for someone. If you must follow, then follow.”
“Who?”
“That’s the problem,” I admitted, lowering my voice. “I don’t know.”
He blinked at me, utterly dumbfounded. “They say girls change a lot at eighteen—becoming more beautiful—but you’re turning into a monster.”
I shot him a glare. “I don’t know his name, but I know he’s twenty-three, a captain, born on July 7th, and he’s…” I swallowed hard. “He’s very handsome.”
“Handsome?” He gave me a teasing look. “Have you seen him?”
“No. I saw his photo in Father’s study.”
He raised an eyebrow, then smirked as realization dawned. “Ah, I see. You fell in love with a photo and came all the way here to meet him. Childish girl.”
“Yes, exactly,” I said with exaggerated sweetness. “But you’re wrong about one thing—Father showed me that photo because he’s arranging a marriage meeting for me.”
He burst out laughing. “A marriage meeting? For you? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Why not? My aunt was married at nineteen. My grandmother at seventeen. The women in my family marry young. I’m seventeen this year—hardly a child.”
He was speechless for a moment, then asked dryly, “And this captain… he’s really that handsome?”
“More than any man I’ve ever seen,” I said proudly.
He scoffed. “Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder.”
“Fine. You’re right,” I said, opening the car door. The sea breeze whipped at my hair as I stepped out. “But how do we find someone without a name?”
He smirked. “Beg me. Maybe then I’ll think of a way to find your prince charming.”
“Alright,” I said without hesitation. “I’m begging you.”
That threw him off. “You—wait, give me a moment to think.”
I folded my arms. “Ha! No way out now, is there?”
He bristled. “Who says I don’t have a way?”
And true to his word, he did. After a few phone calls, he looked up and said, “There’s only one officer in the Second Fleet with a July 7th birthday—Zhuo Zheng. He’s in Building D, Room 207, Ren District.”
My heart leapt. “Mu Shiyang, you’re amazing!”
He shrugged modestly. “Ren District should be over that way.”
We found the building and climbed to the second floor. Standing before Room 207, I felt my pulse race. I reached out and grabbed his hand without thinking. He chuckled. “What are you afraid of? Isn’t he supposed to be handsome?”
“Just knock,” I said through gritted teeth.
He did. No answer. He tried again. Still nothing.
Disappointment flooded me. I knocked a few times myself. A door opened next to us and a young officer peeked out. “Looking for Zhuo Zheng?”
“Yes,” I said quickly.
“He just left,” the man replied.
My heart sank. “Do you know where?”
The officer looked at us suspiciously. “Who are you?”
Mu Shiyang flashed his work ID. “Shuangqiao Residence Administrative Office. We have some business with him.” Then, glancing at me, he added with a grin, “Good news, actually.”
“Oh,” the officer said, relaxing. “He went to see the Commander.”
We thanked him and went back downstairs.
Mu Shiyang leaned against the car. “Do we wait or go find him? It’s getting late. We might not make it back to Wu Chi tonight.”
“We wait,” I said without hesitation. “I must see him.”
He sighed. “I’ve known you for seventeen years, and you keep getting stranger. One day you’ll turn into a little monster.”
I didn’t respond. We waited in silence as the last light faded and the stars came out. His phone rang—it was the attendants’ office, frantic.
“Mr. Mu, are you with the Young Miss?”
He gave me a look before answering. “Of course.”
They sounded relieved. “Where are you now?”
“You just realized she’s missing? Be careful—Director Liang might dock your pay.”
They laughed nervously. I took the phone from him. “If you want me to go home, come find me first,” I said, and hung up.
Mu Shiyang groaned. “You’ll be the death of all of us.”
I smiled faintly. “At worst, Father scolds me and Uncle Lei scolds you.”
“I think I’ll lose half my life over this,” he muttered.
“Then I’ll die with you. They say dying beneath a peony flower leaves even a ghost beautiful.”
He laughed. “You’re no peony. More like foxtail grass.”
I rolled my eyes. “Then you can die under foxtail grass too.”
The teasing eased our nerves, but my anxiety grew as the night deepened. When he suggested going straight to Commander Fan, I panicked.
“No way. He might recognize me—and he knows you. If he finds out I sneaked out, we’re both done for.”
“He might not remember you,” Mu Shiyang reasoned. “Let’s move before the attendants alert everyone.”
I hesitated, then nodded. We had just reached the stairwell when a young officer passed by. Mu Shiyang froze, staring at his shoulder insignia. “Zhuo Zheng,” he said instinctively.
The man turned, his gaze calm and questioning. My heart stopped. Those eyes—so steady, so familiar—they were Father’s eyes.
“Are you Zhuo Zheng?” Mu Shiyang asked.
“I am,” he replied evenly.
Mu Shiyang showed his ID. “We’d like a word.”
Zhuo Zheng studied it, then smiled politely. “Is this official business?”
Mu Shiyang hesitated, staring as if trying to recall something. “You look familiar,” he murmured.
Zhuo Zheng laughed softly. “People say that a lot. I suppose I just have a common face.”
No, I thought. Not common at all. The same brow, the same frown, the same eyes as Father’s.
I blurted, “Mr. Zhuo, what do your parents do?”
Both men looked at me, startled.
“I’m an orphan,” he said after a pause. “My foster mother is a teacher.”
My breath caught. “Is Zhuo your real surname?”
“No,” he said simply. “It’s my foster mother’s.”
The resemblance overwhelmed me. My courage faltered. “Thank you,” I whispered to him, then to Mu Shiyang, “Let’s go.”
He stared at me, bewildered, but followed. Behind us, Zhuo Zheng called out politely, “Do you have any other business?”
Mu Shiyang mumbled something automatic, then stopped mid-sentence. His face went pale. I grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the car.
Even after we got in, he looked dazed. “What’s wrong with me? That wasn’t the Administrative Office… and he wasn’t…” His words trailed off before his eyes widened in horror. “Heavens.”
We locked eyes. He had realized it too.
“No wonder I felt nervous when he frowned,” he said slowly. “It’s him, isn’t it?”
I said nothing, but my silence was enough.
He slumped back in his seat, exhaling sharply. “Nan Nan, you’ll be the death of me. This time, truly.”
I smiled faintly. “I wanted to come alone. You’re the one who insisted on following.”
He sighed, all composure finally returning. “Never mind. We’re here already. Let’s just make sure no one ever finds out.”
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