"The next time we meet again, please do visit me with your best haul. The man wants to see some tangible returns in his.. investments."
Wanmei looked down at the stack in her hand. Sardonic amusement, faint though it was, accompanied the breath huffed from her nose. Leave it to Zhang Weiqiang. Even in dire straits with his back against the wall, he could hand over a sum of money that would ease financial burden and have Wanmei living like an heiress for a spell as if it were no matter.
She said nothing in regards to the illicit condition tacked onto the gift. Her stomach had tensed. In such a way that she was grateful she possessed the unintentional foresight to not eat prior to coming here - lest the nausea manifest into sickness then and there on his fine European imported rug. The sexual relationship between herself and Weiqiang had been undeniably marred by tonight's events. Not that it was a beacon of sanctity and tenderly cultivated intimacy prior. But now there was not a single thought the woman could willfully twist into flimsy solace for her troubled mind. Not a single excuse she could afford him for his monstrous capacity to turn her inside out on a whim.
No. She would not look forward to next time. If the Heavens had mercy, perhaps there would never be a next time.
His partner wisely did not voice thoughts that might incite his ire. Especially not now that she was nearly freed from this ill-gotten meeting. "All right." Instead, with an air of vaguely detached civility, Wanmei stuffed the wad of bills into her purse and retrieved her coat. "Wait for my good news." An ambiguity that would hopefully satisfy. However, just as she turned away, Weiqiang caught her.
"I'll miss you, dove. Come back to your nest here soon, especially if you do bear my child."
"But until then, you've got work to do."
"..."
It shouldn't have.
Wanmei wasn't fool enough to delude herself into believing that his kiss meant anything. Whether it be unbidden apology or love confession which grazed against tongue and lips. It was likely neither as he left. Remnants of his flavor tingled her pout. Whispers of his cologne surrounded her. And an unassailable chill cut to the bone.
It really shouldn't have. But it had. Her heart, for fleeting moment, ached for the coulds and the shoulds between him and her.
He had shown her, time and time again, the man he truly was though. It was freeing in a way. Weiqiang didn't allow her to cling onto romanticized illusion. With emotional ties long severed and carnal ties joining thereafter, she was now only bound to him by duty. She had to ask herself though-
Was any of this worth it?
Someone tried hawking their dumplings to little reaction or fanfare. A faint argument broke out outside another establishment. The world around her never stopped moving. Yet familiar scenery felt otherwise. Frozen in time like film strip caught in a reel. And she was a character meant to play a loathsome role once the film resumed. Until the very end. Then, once the credits rolled, what would become of Shen Wanmei?
Despite her husband being the very incentive for this wayward venture, she knew that she could not return to him. Not as she now was. Not with the weight of her sins hanging impossibly heavy in chest and sticking like a bone caught in throat merely from glimpsing his letters. Envelopes which were padded thicker and thicker each time, perhaps driven by obligation to lavish her with love and familiar comforts while residing worlds away. Correspondences which she returned less and less. Eventually she would have to reckon with her guilt.
In her heart of hearts, Wanmei had already devised a plan. She'd send all the money she could to settle his debts, but keep just enough for herself. Then she would disappear from Jiaping's life altogether without a peep. In this cruel, mystifying way, she would make amends. Could she hang on long enough to see everything through?
Wanmei knew the answer. It was a revelation which gradually took hold during the long trek back to her too quiet and too barren apartment. Despair had clung to her exhausted, aching body. Yet there were surfacing traces of that most heady delirium known as hope.
The monetary restraints she'd been tamed by were no longer worth it. The dangers imposed upon herself by taking on such risky endeavors were especially not worth it.
For some reason, whispers of the conversation with Xu Wenhong resurfaced. Particularly the fragments in which he had, to her remarkable surprise, bore a lack of surprise entirely at the notion she might be a deceptive woman. You could well be a snake. And if you are, I'm telling you - don't waste your gift of compassion.
Yes. Perhaps it was high time Wanmei started thinking of herself. No one would save her from the trap she found herself in and so, she would save herself.
That devil dared to call the space he kept a nest for her when it was no more than cage. He dared to talk as if she were brilliant, wonderful, and free, when she was no more than trained pet. One who should never dream of fleeing.
However...
If a bird were to stir up a racket just so...
If the cage were to fall down in the process, maybe, just maybe the latch would twist free.
Even the best laid plans were not immune to slip-ups. That was why-
"Welcome~ ...Ah."
-she tried not to be terribly disheartened when she'd barely been able to slip one toe past the threshold of the boutique before an employee came fluttering over. Not to greet a potential customer, but to find a way to send Wanmei away, she presumed as the woman's features shuttered with discomfort even as she flashed her an even smile. "You are open, yes?" She asked tentatively, gesturing towards the sign.
"Yes, but... This was my mistake." She reached past Wanmei to turn the door's sign over. "On Wednesdays our operating hours are reserved for customers with appointments."
French? Russian? She couldn't initially tell. The blonde woman chose her words with halting unfamiliarity to convey them well to a Chinese native. Sleek hair coiled into stylish updo, she was dressed smartly. From just beyond her slightly taller frame, Wanmei glimpsed the boutique's interior.
Darkly chic. Countless dresses in varying cuts and silhouettes, lace and satin intimates, shoes, and accessories were displayed as if one were browsing some socialite friend's boudoir for something to borrow rather than racks within a clothing shop. There was no immediate sign of Xu Sufen within. Or any other customers. Although she acknowledged her view from the entrance was limited.
Wanmei then glanced down at herself. She was dressed smartly too in her Western styled mid-length skirt and blouse. Nearly well enough to pass for any of the other young women that emerged from shops dotting Avenue Joffre with arms laden with shopping bags to cart back to their art deco apartment buildings or manors. That was why she kept her slender shoulders poised and chin lifted with the elegant confidence of a lady prepared to argue her rights to spend money. Policies be damned.
"Is that so? How careless of me to not call in advance. However, I'm in need of a few new pieces and this shop has been highly recommended for its selection and quality. Surely, I can have a look around without troubling anyone." Polite but firm. Wanmei was proud of the way she did not shrink and the way her voice did not quiver. It had long been etched in her bones to keep her head down and not kick up a fuss as means of survival. Yet her time within Shanghai instilled the opposite, for being meek only guaranteed one would especially be trampled upon.
A pity the saleswoman was not moved.
She shook her head and repeated, "Appointments only. I am sorry, but you can- Oh, Mademoiselle."
Just like that, she suddenly stared past Wanmei entirely as if she had become an invisible ghost. Her ears too perked with the sound of car doors opening and closing. The woman brushed past and Wanmei slowly turned to look. Eyes rounded at who it should just so happen to be. Sufen?
It seemed good luck and bad luck alike relied on impeccable timing.
The last time Xu Sufen spoke to her husband, was when they had that feisty exchange back at Rose Village, right before she departed for her girls night out. For a while now, that was Sufen's go to method of attempting to get on Wenhong's nerves whenever he disagreed or refused to play along with her plans. She always felt the immense satisfaction of dragging him down along with her, of knowing that whenever she suffered, he would have to suffer along with her. It was her way of trying to hint at him that for the sake of both their happiness, he was better off acceding to her demands petitions.
It worked like a charm at the beginning. But recently, there were noticeable signs of fatigue seeping in. He used to reappear the next day or two with either a bouquet of flowers, or a box of sweet treats as a sign of apology, wanting to make amends and extend an olive branch, even if he wasn't at fault at times. He had to deal with a lot of drama in his work. The last thing he wanted, was to return home to no respite. Sufen was the first person to make him understand that sometimes, it might be better to drop that weight of his ego, in exchange for the chance to better hold on tight to his sanity. It was still work in progress however, as the man was born inherently proud. That was precisely the reason why he had a bounty over his head - his desire for prideful indulgence and recognition motivated him to work on every aspect of his life. His drive brought him successes. That same drive however, also served as not just a blessing, but the bane of his existence.
It was unusual that Wenhong hadn't reached out to her in a few days. She could understand that he might be caught up with his cagey work, and had to be away for a couple of days. That was plausible, since he had been away for days on end before.
But what was particularly unsettling, was that she had by sheer coincidence, overheard gossips of her husband, driving the new Rose in town to wherever they went that evening, right after they had their big fight. Nobody dared to spill the beans to Sufen of course, for fear of being caught in an unnecessary tangle. And if not for a fortuitous detour she decided to make to check out the state of the pantry one afternoon, she wouldn't even have known.
It was then that she was shoved towards a reality check. Time has made her complacent, and she had overestimated her draw over him. She did wonder as well, perhaps she had pushed him a little too far? At the same time, Sufen wasn’t one that could tolerate being a passenger for too long. Being raised under the near dictatorship of her patriarchal family, it had been stifling enough for her to the point of asphyxiation. She had worked so hard to break free from being dependent on them. And she told herself there was no way she would go back to that hell hole of a miserable life, living to please someone else’ dreams and desires - not even Xu Wenhong.
It really wasn’t easy having two very opinionated individuals in their relationship, both vying for that coveted baton of power, both never quite holding onto it for long before yielding to the other, rinse repeat.
Yet, Sufen wasn’t ignorant enough to think Wenhong was a saint that could go on and tolerate her forever. She understood the need to constantly tug and release his strings with finesse as exquisite as herself. It was exhausting. But that was what made her feel alive in her relationship with Wenhong. No one had the impressive balls - literally and figuratively - to keep her on her toes like the man, who was unafraid to give her - an exceptionally intimidating woman to many - a piece of his mind without fear and with debonair. Yet at the same time, he was able to balance up his aggression by sprinkling aw-inducing moments that could make her ovaries erupt. Their relationship was a rollercoaster ride. And that endless sizzle was what excited Sufen enough to be certain that Wenhong was the man she wanted for life.
For life.
Their love was a marathon, not a sprint. She figured it was time to allow her love a moment’s breather.
So for a rare change, Sufen wanted to make it up to Wenhong. And her plan first involved booking an appointment at a certain female-centric boutique that stocked an exotic collection of western make. It had been the talk of the town for a while amongst socialites, many curious, if not fascinated by the introduction of foreign novelties. In particular, while the greater majority of the immaculately tailored garments were cute, prim and proper, rumour had it that the boutique too, possessed a range that included some of the most provocative apparels and accessories that would stun most local inhabitants. The old fashion conservatives would call it lewd and vulgar. But those that were more opened to embracing the evolution of times would call it artistic and sophisticated.
That fine clear skied Wednesday afternoon, she exuded an air of lady boss aura the moment she stepped out of her private hire. Her chauffeur had made his way around the drive to open and hold out the door for her. Her poise was graceful. Her hips, softly and very naturally sashaying whilst she made her way down the steps, her purse elegantly pressed against her stomach, held in place by her ten fingers.
When the store lady approached, the Mistress opened her arms to receive the European woman's embrace with cautious, measured daintiness. It was clear from the way that she had received her expectantly, that Sufen was somewhat versed with the ways of the western culture, which was more openly and casually affectionate, that this wasn't the first time the two had met with each other.
Sufen knew the store lady was involved in a little bit of a dispute with another woman judging solely from their body language right before her taxi halted to a stop - one was attempting to enforce her presence while exercising restraint and controlled grace, and the other, disinterestedly pulling away. She could make a right calculated guess as to what conversation the pair might have been engaged in prior, especially since she was aware of the context that she was being expected for a private viewing. But she did not notice that the other lady was none other than Wanmei, until the shop lady began ushering her towards her establishment, which meant needing to pass her by.
When their eyes met, she stopped in her tracks and her eyes perked up.
"My my."
"I'm certainly glad to know that my roses are keeping up with the times."
"What brings you here, Shen Wanmei?"
"Simply looking to spruce up your wardrobe?”
"Or are you looking to impress a certain lucky Mister?"
Sufen gave her the most innocuous of smiles, enough to mask the underlying hostility and true intention of her question, of which she had very smoothly slipped it in. She was not so much interested in her actual response, but looking out for any remote display of guilt that might slip through from her facial and bodily expressions, assuming her suspicion about her trying to mess around with her man was true.
"If you'd like, I'd love for you to join me."
"I can use your opinion, as you can use mine. What do you say?"
"We can make an exception here, can’t we, Mademoiselle?"Sufen turned to the blonde with a smile, already expecting that she would oblige regardless of her stance.
"Why sure! A chance at doubling my business? Why not?" She was chirpy, eyes turned to Wanmei, lips beaming wide and bright at her as if they never had any prior tensed correspondence.
How her demeanour just changed in a flash of an eye.
"Great. Shall we then, Shen Mei?" Sufen turned back to meet the eyes of her rose. A bystander would have been able to feel an air of simmering tension creeping in, stemming from each of the three women in a triangulate formation, but mainly, just between the two oriental beauties.
Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
