KN | Chapter 3

A Lotus Petal from the Millennium

Chen Wan looked like her, but his temperament was completely different: warm and restrained, with the flamboyant beauty and youthful softness in those genes refined into reserve and composure.

Chen Wan walked over and pinched out her cigarette for her. “Why don’t you move out? If you don’t want to live with me, I can help you find another place. A duplex or a villa, either is fine.”

“As for his side… I’ll think of something.”

This was not the first time Chen Wan had made the suggestion. Song Qingmiao grew agitated at once, her eyes full of blame and incomprehension. “Why should I be the one to leave? I’m not leaving. If I don’t get what’s ours, I might as well die here.”

Chen Wan was silent for a moment, then told her calmly, “Even if you die, he still won’t leave it to you.”

“Then we’ll take it ourselves.” Song Qingmiao grabbed Chen Wan’s hand. “BB, your mother only has you now. You have to amount to something.”

Chen Wan parted his lips, looked at the “girl” who never seemed to grow up, and said nothing.

What Song Qingmiao could never swallow was that breath of grievance.

She had once been that dazzling. The millennium had been the height of her glory: glamorous, sought after, famous across Haishi.

Back then, Haishi was full of women with lush, striking features. Song Qingmiao had been a single lotus petal at the heart of a Jiangnan lake. The men of the world of rank and wealth had swarmed toward her like wolves scenting honey.

But she had been like a jewel pinned to a man’s cuff: a symbol of fame, profit, and power. Fine to play with, not fit to place in the family hall.

Fine to pass through one’s hands, not fine to take into one’s home.

Men pursued her, yet despised her.

In the end, that game of passing the flower stopped with Chen Bingxin. Even the most beautiful beauty could become a joke.

Chen Wan was likewise an unacknowledged joke. It took three paternity tests before he was finally, unwillingly, brought back from a Tang building in the outer third ring to the Chen residence, amid gossip that swept the whole city.

Chen Wan had endured in silence and labored carefully for so long for one reason only: so that one day he could leave this prison and purgatory for good, and, openly and with a rightful name, reach just a little toward that person’s world.

Freedom and peace were luxuries beyond price. From childhood to adulthood, Chen Wan had dreamed of them even in his sleep.

But Song Qingmiao wanted more. She wanted money, fame, profit. She also wanted the splendor that had belonged to her in the millennium, to return to the era that had once been hers.

Chen Wan knew he could not give her that. But he also could not truly bring himself to harden his heart, leave Song Qingmiao behind, and pursue a freedom that belonged to him alone.

In the winter when he was eleven, when he burned with fever in the psychiatric hospital until he was delirious and hanging by a thread, it had been Song Qingmiao who charged in with a pair of scissors and dragged him out.

Did Song Qingmiao love him?

Not very much, but a little.

Not much, but it was already the only scrap of love Chen Wan had in this world, and so it was precious. He still wanted to treasure it.

After a long silence, Chen Wan asked, “How much money do you want? I can earn it.”

Song Qingmiao’s voice was soft, but her contempt was light and clear. “How much can you earn?” She suddenly leaned in close to Chen Wan with a mysterious air and said, “BB, Xie Jiajian’s been asking me out lately.”

Chen Wan paused. His temple throbbed at once. In a grave voice, he said, “You can’t go.”

Quite pleased with herself at having proved she was still attractive despite her age, Song Qingmiao looked rather smug. Chen Wan frowned. “Don’t go. He has a family. He’s not genuinely pursuing you.”

Seeing that she did not take it seriously, Chen Wan tried his best to reason with her. “Rongxin’s board is going through a reshuffle lately. He only wants to sound you out and increase his holdings.” Xie Jiajian was a director at Rongxin, someone who had once clawed his way up under Chen Bingxin decades ago.

Song Qingmiao had always been foolish in the way only a beauty could be. Beauty without a mind to match was often a disaster that drowned a person whole. She pouted in reproach. “What’s genuine and not genuine? I’m not genuine either.”

“I’m only going to have a meal with him and see whether he has some way to help you get into Rongxin.”

“Then all the more no need.” Chen Wan’s tone was firm. “I’m not going into Rongxin. I have my own things to do.”

Song Qingmiao grew a little angry. “What things? All day long you drift along doing nothing proper. Liao Zhihe held his banquet for being promoted to general manager two days ago, and you’ve already graduated for years without even stepping through the doors of a Rongxin branch office. Your mother worries about you so much. I lie awake at night thinking about you and can’t sleep.”

Liao Zhihe was the maternal nephew of Liao Liu from the second branch. Rongxin had once been Chen Bingxin’s personal dominion, but after two coronary bypass surgeries, his power had slipped away, split mainly between Cao Zhi of the first branch and Sui Yu of the third.

The second branch’s Liao Liu had attached herself to Cao Zhi of the first in order to get a share of the spoils. The various branches all looked down on Song Qingmiao for being young and beautiful yet of improper origin, and so they had joined forces to suppress her.

The legitimate young masters and young ladies of the main family, along with the sons and nephews born outside, fought fiercely for power within Rongxin. Chen Wan had always remained outside it all.

But he did not dare tell Song Qingmiao the specifics. If he did, any assets he let slip would quickly be squandered away by her at a casino or card table.

Chen Wan helped her tidy up the jewelry boxes she had turned inside out, closed their lids, cleaned out the cigarette butts in the ashtray, and opened the window to air the room.

“You don’t need to worry about me. The most important thing is that you live your own life properly…”

Someone knocked on the door outside. “Fourth Madam, the master says to come downstairs for dinner.”

Song Qingmiao and Chen Wan exchanged a glance and both fell quiet. Chen Wan lowered his voice and said, “Alright.”

By the time the two of them went downstairs, everyone had already begun on the first course.

Chen Wan sat down at an inconspicuous seat near the end of the table. When he saw the servants setting down chilled lai fun and old duck lotus root soup, he only then remembered that today was the Ghost Festival.

The fourteenth day of the seventh lunar month, also called Ghost Festival. People in Haishi loved soup, and duck soup was made for the pun on ya, “duck,” sounding like ya, “to suppress,” as in suppressing ghosts on Ghost Festival.

Here, this traditional holiday, little known in the rest of the country, was treated with even more importance than Mid-Autumn Festival.

People who moved in business circles tended to believe in feng shui, at least a little.

The wall shrine held offerings to the Eight-Faced God and Mazu. Incense burned without interruption. The willow-wood cabinets, the dark and heavy carpet patterned with dense blossoms, and the green vines crawling up to the windows made the dining room feel gloomy and oppressive, enough to rob anyone of appetite.

The various branches gathered around a round table like a Last Supper. The whole picture was dim and somber. Lightning and thunder from the tail end of the typhoon lit up every detail of every face.

Each person harbored private thoughts, yet all of them talked and laughed with apparent ease. They discussed nothing beyond Haishi’s recent politics, economy, stocks, and horse racing, flattering one another while secretly competing.

Nearly all the younger generation had gone abroad to study and then come straight back into Rongxin. Back then, the offers Chen Wan received had been better than many of theirs, but he had not been able to leave. He had stayed in Haishi and enrolled at HKUST.

Later, he did not even continue with the graduate program he had secured. Chen Wan did not have that much time. He needed to step out of the ivory tower and into the world of rank and wealth as quickly as possible.

In front of Chen Bingxin, his peers spoke fluently about several Rongxin projects, each with the air of someone showing off his capabilities. The wives of the second and third branches basked in reflected glory. Song Qingmiao’s expression was very unpleasant. She turned the bracelet on her wrist and drank her bird’s nest soup.

Chen Wan calmly ate the salad on his own plate, his face and manner placid.

He had no interest in the Chen family’s cake. If anything, he was afraid of getting grease on himself from it.

The economy was currently sluggish. Haishi’s urban development map was contracting. Land grant policies were nowhere near as loose as before. The real estate boom of the past few years was nearing saturation.

Rongxin had always relied on traditional industries as its profit pillar, using land expansion to quench thirst with poison. Its family-style management was outdated, and it had never once thought seriously about industrial transformation. It would already count as Bodhisattva’s blessing if those projects did not end up unfinished.

After leaving HKUST, Chen Wan had set his sights on energy technology, a field hardly anyone had entered yet. The economic situation was changing too fast. The future would definitely be a war over resources.

Facts proved that he had wagered correctly.

The returnees who had once held diplomas from top universities were now, one after another, being laid off and left unemployed by investment banks and property firms. Meanwhile, Chen Wan, who had stayed at HKUST, founded Kexiang Technology, now a company of considerable market value.

Kexiang might be a small temple, but its profits were high. Chen Wan insisted on registering as a silent partner. His senior partner once said he was playing the pig to eat the tiger, quietly getting rich.

Chen Wan had only smiled. “I’m handing you money. Isn’t that a good thing?”

Money was not the most important thing. What mattered was that he had truly chiseled open a crack into that person’s world.

Even if it was not a large one, it was still a heavenly ladder he had built with his own two hands, brick by brick, from nothing.

Chen Wan lowered his head and drank his soup. Song Qingmiao, dissatisfied that he was making himself utterly invisible, shot him a look. Chen Wan still kept his head down and continued eating.

“…”

Song Qingmiao felt even the bird’s nest catching in her throat.

Someone mentioned Zhao Shengge. His return to Haishi was an event that had shaken the whole city. Chen Wan’s hand slowed a little as he drank.

Chen Yu, the eldest son of the first branch, said that whether it was the Zhao family or the welcome banquets being thrown for Zhao Shengge by his friends and business partners, Rongxin had not received a single invitation. He asked Father Chen Bingxin whether they should have someone pull some strings.

Chen Bingxin did not look pleased. No matter what, in Haishi he still counted as an old hand with a name worth mentioning.

He was several generations older than the other man, but he still did not dare say Zhao Shengge was in the wrong. The only thing he could do was vent his anger on his eldest son. “Do I still need to teach you these things?”

Chen Yu hurried to answer yes, though inwardly he felt wronged. Was Zhao Shengge someone they could simply approach because they wanted to?

Counting them all up, there had already been around ten or so banquets large and small. Zhao Shengge had shown his face at not even a tenth of them.

Chen Jin of the second branch was always good at reading the old master’s mood. With a strange little laugh, he said, “The crown prince’s spent the past few years dealing with US dollars. I suppose he may not think much of Haishi’s tiny patch of land anymore.” Otherwise, he would not be putting on more airs than before.

Chen Bingxin made a show of tapping his cane and scolded, “What nonsense are you talking?”

Chen Jin was not afraid. He quieted down, and the second madam smiled as she ladled half a bowl of soup for her son.

The second madam’s brother, Chen Jin’s maternal uncle, Liao Quan, had always been the best at smoothing things over. Chuckling, he said, “No matter what he’s been dealing with, no matter how formidable he is, in the end he’ll still have to put down roots and start a family in Haishi. I’ve heard a bit of wind from Minglong. I don’t think only Rongxin should seize the chance. The young ladies should put some thought into it too. If one of them really hits the jackpot, that’d be a good deal more than just getting acquainted.”

At that, the daughters of the various branches all lowered their heads a little shyly, though they could not hide the brightness in the corners of their eyes or the thoughts flickering there.

It was not even certain that they were truly coveting anything from the Zhao family. Zhao Shengge’s face alone was enough to make every girl in the city dream sweet dreams.

Chen Bingxin’s expression loosened a little, perhaps because he thought that with so many daughters in his family, each beautiful as a flower, surely not every one of them could be without hope.

The first branch’s elder maternal uncle could not stand seeing Liao Quan strike such a neat note and said, “Mr. Liao, isn’t it a bit early to say that? There’s still the Xu family in front.”

The rumored Miss Xu, the one said to be engaged to Zhao Shengge.

Chen Bingxin did not want to hear the two of them bicker, yet still wanted to preserve that bit of hope he had built for himself, so he told his elder in-law, “Xingyong, what man only ever has one woman?”

No one at the table thought there was anything wrong with that statement.

Chen Wan set down his spoon. The long handle struck the porcelain bowl with a clear chime. He took his napkin and wiped his lips.

The half bowl of old duck soup he had just drunk was giving him a touch of reflux. Even after several mouthfuls of tea, he still found it hard to bear, and he could not leave the table. Otherwise, the verbal knives of these tedious people would swing around and point at Song Qingmiao next.

Using Song Qingmiao to control Chen Wan was something everyone in this house knew about, and everyone took pleasure in doing.

After hearing Chen Bingxin say that, everyone at the table, male and female, old and young alike, felt their prospects brighten at once, and the whole table returned to cheerful laughter, eating and drinking happily.

Author’s Note:

Song Qingmiao is not from Haishi. When she calls Chen Wan, sometimes she says “baby,” and sometimes “BB.”