Xie Wuqing listened to the faint clinking of cutlery outside and knew she had begun eating.
In the Xie family, only one person was protected by everyone: his fourth sister, not him. His fourth sister believed that unlike at the Six Nations Hotel, they weren’t being eavesdropped on here; she could say whatever she wanted, which lowered her guard. Xie Wuqing was different. Every word he spoke was carefully weighed, because even walls had ears. And the one listening outside was, to him, just a young girl barely grown.
“What was the girl’s background that night?” Xie Chengru asked, turning her attention to his romantic escapades. “If Father hears about it, I’ll know how to plead for you.”
“I’m not very clear,” he said calmly, as if it were nothing more than a fleeting moment. “It’s just one night; there won’t be any follow-up.”
“What if she develops genuine feelings and comes looking for you again? What are you going to do?” His second sister’s voice carried worry.
From her tone, he understood she already knew about the dangerous attack that night.
He didn’t seem to care. “If you’re truly sincere with me, it’s a one-way street. I’ll get rid of you cleanly; it’s not worth Second Sister asking.”
“Is that so?” Xie Chengru was slightly relieved. “That’s good then.”
“If Second Sister cares about me,” he added, “why not help me find a girl in Tianjin, a former classmate who’s now a doctor here? You met her once; her surname is Qin.”
“That young lady?” Second Sister understood he wanted a doctor, and said softly, “I remember her. I had tea with her alone later… You should settle down. There’s a limit to romance; going too far will cause trouble.”
“It’s just been a long time since we’ve seen each other, and it’s rare for me to come to Tianjin, so I thought I’d have a get-together,” he said.
…
The classmate and surname were casual remarks; the focus was on the doctor.
His injury had to be kept quiet. If word spread, people would think the Xie family was a paper tiger—that their only son nearly died upon arriving in Beijing—and everyone would bully them.
He hadn’t told his fourth sister, not wanting her to feel guilty that he had been trapped in danger to save her. So he kept it secret, coming to Tianjin under the pretext of seeing his sister off. He planned to find a doctor that evening, but since his second sister knew first, it saved him trouble.
Xie Wuqing hung up the phone, rummaged through newspapers, and chose one. He couldn’t let her sit too long, lest guards misunderstand their closeness. Yet if he let her leave too soon, she might overthink.
He Wei, outside, realized the caller was his second sister. Listening further, she became certain he wasn’t as pure and innocent as Miss Xie had described.
When Xie Wuqing appeared with a newspaper, their eyes met. Her face flushed.
“You really shouldn’t eavesdrop,” she said, guilty. “I just remembered—two guests want to change rooms. They have different tastes, and they want the furnishings changed too. I should check on them, otherwise I won’t be able to decide.” She picked up a tablecloth and carefully wiped the coffee table. “Explain to your fourth sister for me.”
He watched her. After she finished, he placed the newspaper on the table.
“I’ll talk to her.”
He opened the door for her.
He Wei walked past, glancing up as if to say goodbye, but saw him looking down at her.
She hesitated, then said:
“Uncle Mao will be with me and Lianfang tonight, so I won’t disturb you.”
She had wanted to say he should enjoy his time in Tianjin, but realized that would confirm she had been eavesdropping. Of course, he must have known.
For some reason, Xie Wuqing was amused. His eyes met hers, and he smiled softly.
“Okay.”
…
Later, after a hot shower, he opened the door in his bathrobe and saw a strikingly beautiful girl illuminated by corridor light. Knowing his “old classmate” had arrived, he asked:
“Did your second sister send you here? Did you encounter any trouble on the way?”
“Nothing,” the girl said softly in her dialect. “I just had a couple of drinks before coming, and I’m afraid I’ll have to stay here for the night.”
He smiled, moved aside, and let her in.
The crimson curtains had been drawn, the lamp moved to the window to avoid shadows. The still, shadowless curtains were unsettling, like towering crimson doors about to be forced open.
The female doctor opened her handbag, sweat beading on her forehead. She had examined him earlier—he must have a fever.
Xie Wuqing sat on the sofa, vision blurring. In the dim light, a hand touched his forehead, and a woman asked to see the wound.
He pulled open his bathrobe.
His fever hadn’t subsided. He had drunk heavily to mask it, but remained conscious. Calmly, he reminded her:
“Go inside and change into pajamas.”
She agreed, changed, and returned to find him reading a newspaper, feigning normalcy.
The Xie family’s doctors were all loyal, bound by favors. This was her first time meeting the young general. She recalled others’ assessments: Xie Wuqing lacked ordinary emotions. Fearless in the face of death, calm even with grudges, his heart reflected on his face.
His wounds were terrifying—one on his waist, another deep enough on his arm to expose bone. Yet he moved freely, as if numb to pain. Alarmed, she prepared to treat him, chatting in dialect to distract him:
“Many political and business dignitaries have come to Tianjin these past two days, and they’re all at this hotel.”
“This isn’t my first time dealing with this,” he said. “No need for words, let’s get down to business.”
She whispered:
“The medicine I brought, I’m afraid—”
“Afraid of what?” he glanced at the newspaper. “It won’t kill you.”
…
Meanwhile, He Wei and Lianfang went hat shopping. Their errand was interrupted when the French Concession was suddenly sealed off. Soldiers blocked exits, fear spread.
He Wei, realizing the urgency of her goods, found a phone and called.
“This is He Wei, I’m looking for Xie Wuqing.”
A man answered, then asked:
“Miss He, are you in danger in the French Concession?”
“No, no danger,” she said quickly. “The concession is closed, I’m trapped. We need to take two boxes of goods. Do you have any ideas?”
She was told to wait at the north entrance.
…
At night, the white-painted fence loomed like a spider’s web. He Wei stood at the edge, peering out. Darkness stretched beyond.
Headlights flared. Cars arrived, men stepped out. Among them, she recognized Xie Wuqing’s silhouette—his arm bound in a sling, jacket draped over his shoulder.
She stepped forward, but guns shoved her back, muzzles inches from her face. She froze, breath slowing.
Xie Wuqing, unarmed, kept walking. He waved his hand, and headlights blazed. His men crouched, guns drawn, ready to fight.
“Put it down! It’s a misunderstanding, all a misunderstanding. This is a guest!” the foreigner shouted, flashing a pass.
The French soldiers lowered their weapons.
He Wei retreated, shaken. Xie Wuqing passed through the fence, his gaze icy, forcing soldiers aside. Then he looked at her.
“Scared?” He smiled.
He extended his left hand. She understood, lowered her head, and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her face pressed against his collar, enveloped by the scent of soap, alcohol, and medicine. His palm rested on the back of her head.
It was too hot for his hands.
They weren’t truly embracing, though passion seemed intense. She was inexperienced, her hand trembling against his shirt. Was this… just playing along?
“What else… do you want to do?” she whispered.
His warm breath brushed her ear.
“Nothing.”
He released her.
“Where do you want to stay? Find somewhere you like,” he said casually.
“Even with extraordinary abilities, you can’t get out now. Tomorrow morning, I’ll apply for an early departure permit. Tonight, we’ll stay in the French Concession.”
She then understood: he had entered this sealed concession alone—because of her call.
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