The Art of Teasing - Chapter 180
Chapter 180
Wen Shishu had packaged and sold her business holdings to Qi Wei. Half of the proceeds had been swindled away by her son, and she had donated the other half to charity. At first glance, it looked like she had nothing left. But people who could build their own enterprises from the ground up were never fools. One look at who she had sold her businesses to, and another at how she had brought Ye Ling and Wen Zhengyu into the fold—and it all became clear. Wen Shishu had given the money to Kang Bai; every other intangible asset had been passed to her niece. And as for Ye Ling—anyone who studied how she had built her fortune from nothing, how she had dismantled the Ye family's Second Branch, and how she had gone head-to-head with the Zhao and Cen siblings understood exactly what kind of person she was. When Wen Shishu found a successor like that, everyone was perfectly happy to continue doing business with Ye Ling. Wen Shishu had paved the road; now it was Ye Ling's turn to strike while the iron was hot and lock everything down. Wait too long, and the tea would go cold.
Wen Zhengyu went back home with Wen Shishu. Ye Ling stayed behind to continue negotiating the project collaborations.
The two of them arrived home at noon. After lunch, they each went about their own business.
If it had been anyone else visiting, Wen Zhengyu would have had to play host and make arrangements. But her second aunt coming home—well, that was the tigress returning to her own den. It was her second aunt's territory, and her second aunt could handle the arrangements herself.
The household was large. They had hired professional accountants and set up a dedicated accounts office to manage all income and expenditures. All purchasing went through the accounts office.
Worried that after giving money to Kang Bai and making that donation, Wen Shishu might not have enough left to live on, Wen Zhengyu had specifically told her second aunt that from now on, all household expenses and outlays should go through the accounts office. For purchases, she could sign the invoices and let the vendors come collect payment, or pay upfront and get reimbursed later—either was fine.
Wen Shishu shot her a glance that was equal parts amused and sardonic. The look said, plain as day: You think I'm short of a few coins to live on?
Wen Zhengyu beamed, gazing wistfully at the sky. Then, blissfully content, she wrapped herself around her second aunt and whispered, "Having you back home—I'm so happy."
Wen Shishu knew exactly what was going on in that little heart. Wen Zhengyu had lacked maternal love since childhood. She was looking for a mother.
After lunch, Wen Zhengyu took the items Old Master Qin had entrusted to her for Old Master Lu and went next door.
Old Master Lu's son had offended too many people, dragging his elderly father and young granddaughter down with him. By now, Old Master Lu was practically housebound. He had suffered blow after blow the year before, and his time in the nursing home had been harsh. His health had been poor when he came out. Even with careful recuperation afterward, at his age, recovery was extremely difficult. Now, leaning on a cane, he could barely manage more than a few steps.
Wen Zhengyu had hired a reliable, steady housekeeper to look after the grandfather and granddaughter. As a matter of routine, she also had Sun Yuan simmer nourishing medicinal broths and send them over. The two households were close neighbors—just a few steps away—so delivering things was easy.
The grandfather's health limited his mobility, and the little granddaughter was far too young. Even something as simple as going to the mall to buy clothes was impractical for them. Whenever Wen Zhengyu had clothes made, she would casually have someone take the grandfather's and granddaughter's measurements and have a few outfits sewn for them as well. Daily necessities, produce, and the like—when her own household did the shopping, they would pick up an extra batch for them and drop it off. With a housekeeper to cook, do laundry, and drive little Rongrong to and from school every day, they were getting by.
When Wen Zhengyu arrived at Old Master Lu's place, little Rongrong was packing books to ship by courier, with Old Master Lu helping her. Wen Zhengyu leaned in, curious. The books were all elementary-level study guides—six in total, a mix of new and used. She asked warmly, "Who are you sending books to?"
Little Rongrong told her, "To Minmin."
Wen Zhengyu paused. As far as she knew, all the children Rongrong's age had cut ties after the Lu family's troubles. Any new acquaintances were just school friends—no need to pack books in a box and mail them off.
Old Master Lu explained on Rongrong's behalf: "It's a slightly older girl she knew from the welfare institute. That child has a birthmark on her face and a bad leg. She was never adopted."
Wen Zhengyu thought back to the day she had picked up little Rongrong. "Was she the one who protected Rongrong when the others were bullying her?"
Old Master Lu said, "That's her. She has a very good memory and is willing to work hard at her studies, so I had Rongrong mail her some books."
The thought that little Rongrong could be so thoughtful impressed Wen Zhengyu. She said to Old Master Lu, "When summer break comes, we can have a bodyguard accompany Rongrong to go visit Minmin."
Little Rongrong's eyes lit up. She tilted her head up to look at Wen Zhengyu, half-disbelieving. "I can go see Minmin?"
Wen Zhengyu smiled. "Of course you can. You're good friends, aren't you?"
Little Rongrong hesitated a moment, then glanced at Old Master Lu and lowered her head again.
Wen Zhengyu guessed Old Master Lu's concern. His son had committed too many sins; he feared others would retaliate against the child. He wanted her as far from their old life as possible. She said, "Grandpa Lu, it's no trouble. It's just visiting the welfare institute—leave in the morning, back by evening."
Old Master Lu said to Wen Zhengyu, "I've already put you to too much trouble."
Wen Zhengyu laughed. "Not at all. If you're always so cautious, it won't be good for the child's development."
Old Master Lu said, "Then I'll have to trouble you again."
Wen Zhengyu sat with Old Master Lu for a while. Seeing that the time was about right, she took her leave and went to visit her maternal grandmother's side.
That night, she stayed at Grandmother's place.
A heavy rainstorm raged outside. Wen Zhengyu sprawled by the window, watching the rain through the glass while chatting on the phone with Ye Ling in a marathon call.
Their daily topics, apart from what they had eaten and who they had seen, consisted mostly of Ye Ling teasing her.
Wen Zhengyu didn't particularly enjoy being teased. Her only recourse was to give Ye Ling a meticulously detailed daily itinerary: who she had met, what had been said. As long as Ye Ling had time, Wen Zhengyu could go into as much detail as she wanted. When the conversation turned to the girl called Minmin, Ye Ling still remembered her. Noticing that Wen Zhengyu had only remarked on the birthmark covering the girl's face and her disabled leg, Ye Ling teased her again about being a face-judger, then asked, "So, did you fall for me because I'm beautiful?"
Wen Zhengyu threatened, "I'm hanging up."
Ye Ling said hurriedly, "Don't, don't, don't—I was wrong, I take it back. You love both my inner and outer beauty. Irresistibly so. I understand."
Wen Zhengyu reflected that Ye Ling's skin was so thick even a paring knife couldn't shave it thin.
Ye Ling teased her a bit more, then added, "That child may be somewhat lacking in physical appearance, but her character is remarkable. I wonder if you noticed—when she and little Rongrong were surrounded and bullied by that pack of children, Rongrong was crying, but she stayed completely calm. Most impressive of all: in that situation, she stood up to protect someone else, and she did it with extraordinary composure. Then, when Rongrong had someone come to pick her up, she showed neither envy nor self-pity."
Wen Zhengyu sighed. "How did she end up in a welfare institute?"
Ye Ling said, "A baby girl, worthless. Born with a large birthmark covering half her face and a congenitally deformed leg. In the one-child era, so many families wanted sons. Even raising a daughter, they wouldn't want one like her. Tossed off at the welfare institute, that's how. The child was abandoned at the entrance less than two weeks after birth. There was a note left with her, saying they were afraid the grandmother would strangle her, so they brought her there in the middle of the night."
Wen Zhengyu was stunned. "Her own granddaughter. Surely she wouldn't really strangle her."
Ye Ling let out a cold laugh. "I was my grandfather's biological granddaughter. The Ye family wasn't short of food. Didn't stop them from leaving me to fend for myself." Of course, by the end of it, they had regretted more than once not having strangled her sooner.
Wen Zhengyu fell silent. Her heart ached for Ye Ling. She was quiet for a couple of seconds, then it hit her: Ye Ling knew an awful lot about Minmin's situation. "You made a point of asking around?"
Ye Ling said, "No need to make a point. The people at the welfare institute know the background of every child there. They were hoping we'd adopt one more while we were at it." Adopting a child wasn't like other things. Adopt one, and you had to take responsibility—educate, raise them—and take responsibility for yourself, too. A ten-year-old child had largely formed their understanding, their temperament and personality more or less set. Those who had gone crooked were extremely difficult to straighten out. She and Wen Zhengyu had substantial assets. Someday, they would have their own children. The worst-case scenario was an adopted child fighting biological children for the inheritance. Kang Bai and Wen Zhengyu—siblings by blood—and the Ye family's Second Branch: both cases of blood relatives who had nearly killed each other. But if a child's character and disposition were decent, and they were willing to strive—adopt one, later give them the foundation to establish themselves, and let them carve out their own path. That would be acceptable.
Wen Zhengyu talked with Ye Ling a while longer before Ye Ling was pulled away once more by social obligations.
Wedding preparations, though tedious, were much easier with a wedding planning company.
Ye Ling was too busy. Buying the rings, commissioning the formal attire, liaising with the wedding planners, arranging the hotel—Wen Zhengyu was handling all of it.
Wen Zhengyu's vision was simple: invite family and close friends; hold a dignified, understated yet solemn ceremony. That was enough.
On her side, the relatives from the Wen and Lian families alone would fill several tables. Add her master, senior apprentice brothers and sisters, and those close colleagues in the art world with whom she had frequent mutual support—all of them had to be invited. By her count, that made over a dozen tables. Ye Ling's family had few relatives, but she had a great many business associates. From the moment Ye Ling had gotten together with her, she had never kept a low profile. Everyone knew Ye Ling was getting married, and naturally, they all wanted to offer congratulations. Combined, there would be dozens and dozens of tables. Wen Li had even asked her for a few invitations, intending to bring some people to expand her social circle. Then her second aunt handed her another list—seven or eight tables' worth. Many of the names on it were people Wen Zhengyu recognized; her second aunt had specifically taken her to meet them in the past.
Wen Zhengyu took the list. "Second Aunt, you said low-key."
Wen Shishu gave her a sidelong look, half-smirking. "Do you and Ye Ling have the word 'low-key' written anywhere on you?"
That one sentence stuffed Wen Zhengyu's objections right back down her throat.
Wedding preparations were tedious, but by making a checklist and tackling each item in order, after a busy week, everything was arranged. Now came the waiting—for the rings, the formal wear, the invitations to be completed and delivered. Until those custom-made items were ready, she had time to spend in the Painting Hall, practicing calligraphy and painting.
Wen Shishu knew that in this lifetime, Wen Zhengyu had almost no hope of ever becoming a true painter or calligrapher. Yet she saw that whenever Wen Zhengyu had free time, she stayed in the Painting Hall—often for entire days at a stretch—and worried that she was obsessing herself into a dead end. But in her current physical condition, the truth was that apart from a handful of trivial, inconsequential matters, she genuinely could not do much else. She couldn't review documents, couldn't concentrate for extended periods. Even having custom items made or drafting an agreement required her attendants to handle. If a document needed her signature, she would have to ask someone in the family to look it over before she dared sign.
The Old Master had been gone for so long now, yet his belongings still sat in his bedroom, untouched. Wen Shishu sought Wen Zhengyu out. "The Old Master has been gone all this time. Isn't it about time you cleared out his courtyard and moved in?"
Wen Zhengyu said, "I live perfectly well in my own courtyard. It's even larger than the main courtyard. I have no plans to move." Her courtyard had been created by knocking through and joining two separate courtyards. It was the place she had lived for over twenty years. She had no intention of moving, nor could she bear to—and she could not bear even more the thought of removing the Old Master's belongings from his room.
Wen Shishu said, "It's unseemly to leave the main courtyard empty."
Wen Zhengyu said, "The guest hall is still in use."
Since Wen Zhengyu refused to move, Wen Shishu couldn't exactly bundle her up and stuff her over there. She had to let it go.
Wen Zhengyu considered her second aunt's point and reflected that a residence needed the vitality of human presence. Her grandfather's rooms shouldn't always be empty. So during the day, she began spending time in the main courtyard, practicing calligraphy in her grandfather's study. The clothes and daily items the Old Master had worn or used had long since been burned during the funeral rites. But the furniture he had used and the decorative objects he had kept nearby were still there. After a simple tidying, she spread fresh sheets and bedding and began taking her afternoon naps there.
It was July. The summer heat was at its fiercest.
Wen Zhengyu had the air conditioning on as she napped in her grandfather's room. Deep in sleep, she suddenly heard her grandfather calling her. Then she sensed two misty, indistinct shapes in the room. A voice—or something like one—seemed to tell her that one was Old Master Wen, dressed in burial clothes, and the other was Wen Shiyi, transformed into a vengeful ghost.
Wen Shiyi's head and face were covered in blood. A huge hole gaped at the crown of his skull, brain matter spilling out. His face was a ghastly blue, like a corpse. His eyes burned with venomous malevolence. "You had billions in assets. You couldn't spare a few tens of millions to save my life. Instead, you had Ma Lu spread the word and get me killed."
Wen Zhengyu knew that when you dreamed of ghosts, it was best not to speak to them. She hesitated a moment, then asked, "Where did you die? Do you need me to collect your body?"
Wen Shiyi's face contorted. With a shriek, he lunged at Wen Zhengyu.
Old Master Wen grabbed him, shouting, "Third Son, stop!"
Wen Shiyi's strength was terrifying. Old Master Wen couldn't hold him back. In the blink of an eye, Wen Shiyi was at the bedside, seizing Wen Zhengyu by the throat.
Old Master Wen cried out urgently, "Xiao Yu, get away! Third Son is a life-taking vengeful ghost!"
Wen Zhengyu had dreamed of no fewer than eighty thousand ghosts in her time. She felt not the slightest trace of fear. He can't really strangle me, can he? The thought had barely surfaced when she realized: though Wen Shiyi looked to be straining with all his might, gnashing his teeth as if pouring every ounce of strength into it, he wasn't exerting the slightest bit of force.
His face a mask of ferocity, Wen Shiyi howled, "You wouldn't even give me a few tens of millions! You killed me! I want your life in repayment!" Then he screamed at her, "Struggle! I'm strangling you to death—why aren't you struggling?"
If not for the fact that rolling her eyes would be unflattering, Wen Zhengyu would very much have liked to roll them at Wen Shiyi: She wasn't going to struggle. What business was it of his? Let him die mad!
From the courtyard came the sound of high heels on bluestone paving, approaching. In moments, the steps reached the door. The bedroom door swung open.
Wen Shiyi vanished in an instant. Old Master Wen was gone as well.
Wen Zhengyu opened her eyes. Awake. She found she was clutching her own throat with both hands.
Ye Ling, her steps soft, reached the bedside. Seeing Wen Zhengyu with her own hands wrapped around her neck and a blank, stunned expression on her face, she called, "Zhengyu?"
Wen Zhengyu came back to herself. "I want some water."
Ye Ling went and poured her a glass. Wen Zhengyu slowly sat up, cupping the glass in both hands, and sipped the water down in small mouthfuls. "Tomorrow, we go to the temple."
Ye Ling asked, "What for?"
Wen Zhengyu said, "To request two Dharma-protecting Vajra guardians for Old Master Wen." She didn't believe in gods and ghosts, but she had dreamed it. So she would arrange rites for the Old Master and request two Dharma protectors to be dispatched—to suppress any evil spirits.
Ye Ling asked, "What happened?" Wen Zhengyu wouldn't do these things without reason.
Wen Zhengyu said, "I had a nightmare." She recounted the dream to Ye Ling.
Ye Ling did not believe in gods and ghosts, and naturally did not believe this was a vengeful spirit demanding life. She guessed Wen Zhengyu had dreamed this because, on a subconscious level, she believed Wen Shiyi was already dead—and had become a malevolent ghost. Believe or not, seeking peace of mind and dispelling any psychological shadow for Wen Zhengyu was worth it. So Ye Ling, who had never believed in gods and ghosts and had never prayed to Buddha or gods, accompanied Wen Zhengyu to the temple. They performed rites for Old Master Wen. They requested two Dharma guardians. Then they also performed deliverance rites for Wen Shiyi.
When the rites for Old Master Wen were performed, Wen Shishu went as well.
She watched the two of them even arranging deliverance rites for Wen Shiyi. Stunned, she asked, "Third Brother is dead?"
Ye Ling said, "Hell knows if he's dead or not. If he's dead, consider it a proper deliverance. If he isn't, may it curse him to a swift death and a swift deliverance."
Wen Shishu thought of her father, and of Wen Zhengyu's current state. Confronted with Ye Ling's and Wen Zhengyu's attitude, she found herself speechless. Curse or no curse, if Third Brother ever appeared in front of Ye Ling, Ye Ling really would strangle him.
The three of them—Ye Ling, Wen Zhengyu, and Wen Shishu—exited the temple together.
Ye Ling said to Wen Zhengyu, "Next time you dream of Wen Shiyi, go hire a ghost-catching Yin-Yang master and have him beaten to death on the spot."
Wen Shishu shot Ye Ling a silent glance. This one was fiercer than any ghost. If a ghost saw her, it would probably detour to avoid her. She ribbed Ye Ling: "Why hire a Yin-Yang master? Just hire yourself. That'll be enough." She got into her own car and left.
Ye Ling rubbed her chin, considering this. "Zhengyu, maybe I really can ward off evil spirits," she mused. "Anyway, Second Aunt's at home. Why don't you come with me to the office? I'm short a tea-brewing, water-pouring assistant."
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