Chapter One: Cheng Muyang of the Cheng Family (2)
She was not a descendant of the Shen family, so when the actual day of ancestor worship arrived, she naturally became the person with the most free time.
The Shen clan had already reached its twenty-sixth generation in Jiangnan. Having stood firm for several hundred years, it had long attracted considerable attention. This was also the first time in more than twenty years that Master Shen had returned to his hometown to pay respects to his ancestors, so naturally quite a few media outlets followed closely behind, turning a family affair into something resembling a publicity stunt.
By the time dawn had barely broken, the ancestral rites had already begun.
Nan Bei mixed in among the reporters, following the more than one hundred members of the Shen family from afar. Most of the media present today had been invited by the local government for the sake of its political achievements. On a day like this, however, they were permitted at most to accompany the procession and take photographs. They would absolutely not be granted formal interviews.
Everyone began by observing at the ancestral hall, then proceeded all the way to the inner hall to offer incense. Finally, they stepped onto the path leading to the ancestors' graves and walked to the tombs, where they began bowing and offering incense according to seniority.
Row upon row of white chrysanthemums stood there. Whenever someone stepped forward, they would bend down and add another flower.
The two reporters in front of her had been unable to squeeze their way to the innermost side. They simply put down their cameras and began gossiping in low voices.
“The one offering the chrysanthemum now is Shen Qingqiu. He’s running for Minister of Finance in Mexico this year. I didn’t expect his generation to rank so low.”
“That’s how these great families are. Look at the boy in front of him. Just judging by where he’s standing, his generation ranks higher than his. He looks only fifteen or sixteen.”
…
Gossip was naturally a mixture of truth and fiction.
She listened with amusement, treating it as nothing more than entertainment.
By the time it was nearly noon, the ancestor worship had finally come to an end. The Shen family arranged for all the domestic and foreign members of the media to have a meal at the old residence, with specially hired chefs preparing vegetarian dishes. Several people who had lived in Taizhou for many years were responsible for handling the meals for the media and the local officials.
Nan Bei, meanwhile, stayed by Shen Jiaming's side the entire time. Because her appearance was so striking, quite a few people captured her in their cameras. A small face, the corners of her eyes slightly raised, and for the most part, she did not like to smile.
Yet whenever she happened to speak with Shen Jiaming, he could always make her laugh. Anyone who did not know better might genuinely have taken them for a perfect couple.
But if anyone actually heard the conversation between them, they would inevitably realize they had been mistaken.
And very, very much so.
“Come on, smile a little prettier.” Shen Jiaming turned his head, his smile perfectly composed. “The United Evening News will definitely have your picture tomorrow.”
She naturally knew what he was trying to do and did not mind playing along. “That socialite of yours, is she thinking about getting back together with you lately?”
“Socialite?” Shen Jiaming instinctively rubbed his index finger. The day before, a scarlet macaw had pecked it so badly that it had nearly torn the flesh away. Even now, thinking about it made his finger ache with excruciating pain. “If you count back three generations, there isn't anyone worth mentioning anymore. Where did this ‘socialite’ come from?”
Nan Bei gave an “Mm,” then raised her middle finger and waved it at Shen Jiaming. “Sorry. If I count back three generations, I get bandits.”
Shen Jiaming could not hold it in. He let out a snort of laughter and grabbed her middle finger. “Someone is looking at you.”
“Really?” She pretended to smooth her hair, helping the young master put on his act. “Is this okay? Does it look good on camera? Why do you think all those reporters followed us all the way here?”
“Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
Shen Jiaming smiled affably, put an arm around her shoulder, and turned her body toward the southeast.
Someone was walking over.
She looked at him in surprise. He seemed taller and thinner than when she had seen him a few days ago, though the way he walked had not changed at all. When the two of them looked over, there was an unmistakable smile on Cheng Muyang's face, fleeting and difficult to catch.
She thought he would come over, but unexpectedly, Cheng Muyang passed through the small path beside the artificial hill and soon disappeared into the distance.
“How exactly did you meet him?” Shen Jiaming sat down on the wooden railing beside the corridor. “Yunnan? Chuan-Gui?”
Chuan-Gui refers collectively to Sichuan and Guizhou, two neighboring provinces in southwestern China.
“Belgium. I met him when I was studying in Belgium.”
Shen Jiaming calculated the timing. “And you never saw each other afterward?”
She took that as a given.
“It was probably about two years ago. The new deputy mayor of Moscow took office and vigorously supported the mafia he relied upon, causing the Cheng family's business to shrink considerably. At the time, the most famous person in the Cheng family wasn't him, but his elder cousin, Cheng Muyun. There was nothing wrong with this man, except that he was somewhat eager for quick success and immediate gains. He liked using extreme measures and wanted to assassinate the deputy mayor directly.”
“Someone else was planning an assassination, and you knew about it too?”
“I only found out afterward. The reason the Cheng family has been able to survive along the China-Russia border for so many years is because they're smart and keep out of the limelight. No matter how dynasties have changed throughout China's modern and contemporary history, they've always remained outside the machinery of the state. You know that once you upset the balance, you'll be subjected to devastating suppression. The Cheng family are businessmen, after all, not rebels. Of course they wouldn't do something like that.”
She listened with great interest.
“For the sake of this matter, the Cheng family went through a major upheaval. Afterward, he appeared.”
“And then?”
“There was no then.” Shen Jiaming smiled and changed the subject. “I remember that after you returned from Belgium, you stopped leaving the country. Living in Yunnan all year round, don’t you ever find it boring?”
She shook her head. “It’s not that boring. If you ever get the chance to go to Yunnan, I’ll take you to see a live 3D action movie of a shootout between the police and gangsters.”
Shen Jiaming looked at her solemnly. “I’m not going. The person I’m most afraid of is your older brother, Nanhui.”
Nan Bei gave him a disdainful look.
In the days that followed, Cheng Muyang never appeared again.
Just when she thought they would never meet again, Master Shen suddenly informed her that the itinerary had changed and they would be returning to Taiwan by sea. The old man clearly had something more behind his words, but he did not explain himself, merely saying that he would remain in Taizhou to wait for the donation ceremony, while a “friend” would go ahead with her.
Her intuition told her that this “friend” might be Cheng Muyang.
When the sky was pitch-black, she stood outside the gate of the old residence with her suitcase, waiting for someone to pick her up.
The rain was too heavy. Even standing under the shelter of the doorway, she could not avoid the droplets splashing over. The old residence was not in a densely populated area. There was hardly anyone walking nearby, and not a single car passed by.
The only thing making noise was the rain.
About ten minutes later, white headlights finally appeared in the distance.
One Mercedes-Benz S600 Pullman Guard after another drove past her without interruption, all exactly the same model and color. The only difference was their license plates. She watched with interest, initially counting the number of cars, until eventually she could no longer tell which one she was looking at. At last, one car broke away from the convoy and came to a smooth stop in front of the bluestone steps.
Someone from the passenger seat ran down and opened an umbrella.
Nan Bei handed her luggage to that person, ducked under the umbrella, and took only a few steps before getting into the car.
Cheng Muyang, sitting inside, looked at her.
He was dressed simply in a casual white shirt and black trousers. The yellow light accentuated the contours of his face, as though they had been painted in heavy, rich strokes of ink and color. The lighting was not particularly bright, which made his eyes appear even deeper in color.
The first thing she said was, “Do you have slippers?”
Cheng Muyang lowered the soundproof glass and had the person in front hand over a pair of white slippers.
“Thank you.” Nan Bei lowered her head and took off her soaking-wet shoes. After putting on the slippers, she finally felt comfortable. When she looked back at him, she found that he was still watching her. Their eyes were both bright in the light.
Three or four seconds later, she suddenly smiled.
Only now, upon the reunion of old friends, did they truly recognize each other again.
“Is the rain heavy?” he asked, his voice somewhat low.
“Mm.”
“It’ll take five or six hours to reach where we’re staying tonight,” he said. “It’s a long journey, and traveling by car won’t be comfortable. Be prepared.”
“Where are we going?” Through the glass, she looked at the convoy behind them. “How many cars do you have here?”
“Qiandao Lake. There are about forty cars this time.”
Forty cars?
She laughed and sighed. “Won’t traveling like this cause a traffic jam?”
This was the first time she had ever seen someone travel with such caution.
“It shouldn’t.” He remained turned slightly toward her, one hand resting on the back of the seat and the other on his knee. “Each car here keeps a distance of fifty meters from the next while traveling. They won’t get too close.”
The distance was just right. Even if one car were attacked, the others would not be caught up in it.
“But what if someone pays close attention and remembers which car you got into?”
He laughed. “Every ten minutes, the last car in the convoy will accelerate and drive all the way to the front.”
She followed his words and thought about it carefully.
Forty completely identical cars, maintaining a distance that was neither too near nor too far, quietly shifting one position backward every ten minutes. Perhaps even the drivers themselves would not know exactly which number car they were.
If someone wanted to find out which car Cheng Muyang was sitting in, the chances were practically zero.
But even if they somehow guessed correctly, with a probability of one in ten thousand, a vehicle like this would still be extremely difficult to breach in an instant.
She remembered that this model of armored vehicle had long since reached NATO's VR7 security limit. Even if half a dozen M51 grenades were detonated against it simultaneously, it would not suffer any substantial damage.
Besides, they were still within China. It was relatively safe.
Seeing that she had no more questions, Cheng Muyang leaned back into the seat in a comfortable position and closed his eyes to rest.
Several years ago, this man had already begun frequently appearing in her dormitory, classrooms, and library. The two of them had gone from strangers, to cautiously testing each other, to becoming familiar and accustomed to one another, all within the span of several months.
Traveling with someone she knew this well, she did not feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. She simply leaned back against the seat and pressed her hand against the glass, leaving a mark.
Through the clear handprint, she could see the road outside the window.
They should have gotten onto the expressway. The lights were monotonous, stretching without interruption as far as the eye could see.
“Where’s your girlfriend?”
She suddenly remembered the woman who had taken away the jade bracelet.
“She’s not my girlfriend.” There was a trace of regret in his voice. “She was the widow of one of my cousins.”
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