"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.
Wanmei was reminded that she was in fact, not a ghost. Even if the elegant exchange had left her feeling ill-placed and otherwise. Fingers curled around handbag strap anew like an anxious bird regaining its perch. She met her gaze with sparked pleasant surprise. The very same which seemingly reflected in Sufen's.
"Madam Xu."
"My my." "I'm certainly glad to know that my roses are keeping up with the times." "What brings you here, Shen Wanmei?"
Like always, the low silk of her tone possessed a bone-numbing enchantment. The sort that could bring individuals to charmed heel and move mountains just as effectively as her prestige and wealth had. The sort that always made her wonder if Sufen could carry a tune just as beautifully. In a way, it didn't matter. The woman was best suited at the helm of her carefully-cultivated empire as opposed to weaving pretty gauze dreams upon a stage. There was undeniable strength behind every look, every word, every gesture, no matter how appealingly cloaked in feminine placidity.
"To think that you should be the very one who's appointment I unknowingly intruded upon... How embarrassing." A breath of chagrined laughter followed, because it was true. She felt foolish. Though it was her plan to meet Sufen in similar "coincidental" fashion, the woman had a way about her which made Wanmei feel as if this plan was clumsily devised.
An implied happenstance response didn't seem to satisfy. "Simply looking to spruce up your wardrobe?” Unequivocally curious. Like a cat latched onto target with languid keen, whispers of Sufen's perfume invaded her senses with its heady spice and the following question practically dripped in speculative purr... "Or are you looking to impress a certain lucky Mister?"
She was well acquainted with honey-daggered smiles used to mask intent or knowledge beneath light, flowery banter. They were commonplace in Shanghai society. Common as the cabarets and jazz clubs lurking around every corner which concealed illicit dealings within glitzy smoky depths. So when Wenhong's beautiful and clever wife smiled at her harmlessly, a needle-like sensation prickled beneath her skin. The young woman didn't flinch or turn away, however. A lower-gazed demeanor would hopefully be interpreted as nothing more than mindfulness when conversing with one's superior outside of work.
"Oh, not at all." Wanmei demurred. "I'm afraid I have no one to impress at present."
To her credit, this was partially true. Her husband was separated by lands and miles, and even if he wasn't, lovemaking with him had been perfunctory. Plain shifts were no different from pretty nightdresses when they were merely hiked up enough to slot between legs for an odd minute or so of grunts and deliberately measured bucks under the deeply veiled cover of night. And she certainly didn't give a damn to select any lingerie that might please Weiqiang next they met.
Wanmei waved her hand. "No matter. Can't a woman dress solely to impress herself?" Surely this was a notion Sufen could abide by. Though draped in sophisticated allure, Wanmei had the keen sense she did so for herself above all else. Xu Sufen exuded an effortless poise and daring not beholden to constricting beauty ideals of past that she honestly admired. "I am skilled with needle and thread to mend pieces when needed, but living here and being exposed to such pretty fashions regularly, I... Well. It makes me want to indulge." Wistfulness filled the fluttering gaze which swept towards the interior. Standing at a threshold as if she so wished to cross and seek unknown treasures lurking beyond, she patiently counted down in her head for that inevitable offer...
"If you'd like, I'd love for you to join me."
Her head swiveled back to Sufen. "Really? ...Ah, I shouldn't impose on your precious shopping time." Societal expected modesty laced her soft frown. Sometimes women ran cumbersome circles in playing decorous with one another, hence why Wanmei made certain to portray a faintly nervous hopefulness in her body language just the same. She needed Xu Sufen to think she was extending her a great favor in this invitation, because, in many ways, she was.
"I can use your opinion, as you can use mine. What do you say?"
She nodded and her expression gentled with pleasant ease. "I am certain that you possess a keener eye in that regard, but I would be delighted to join your company." So great was Wanmei's relief, that she kindly overlooked the saleswoman's total one-eighty in demeanor. She didn't doubt that Sufen could've requested her to vacate the premises entirely and perform errands on her behalf for that hour or so, and she would've gladly done so. Such was the influence of a triad heiress and wife.
"Great. Shall we then, Shen Mei?" Her voice rang sweet and disarming. While her demeanor rang of something indiscernible and guarded. Wanmei played ignorant and elegantly smiled before canting her head in wordless gesture for Sufen to enter first. And as she regarded her curved silhouette from behind, she couldn't help but wonder if her presence was undesirable. Had she legitimately intruded on some precious alone time? It might be impossible to know. Women's relationships were sometimes muddied by banal niceties. Regardless, she must forge ahead.
Immediately, Wanmei was taken aback by their selection. Much more evocative than mere glimpses granted from the doorway. "Madam Xu, do you often shop here? These pieces are certainly...more daring than anything I'm accustomed to." She admitted, voice low and soft. Shen Wanmei was indeed a practical woman through and through. Not enough to smother her youthful feminine beauty in drab modesty. But enough that some designs proved boldly exotic. The deeper the women wandered into the shop's depths, the warmer she felt. She let her fingertips glide along some of the hangers while her eyes danced over swaths or really, in many cases, fancy scraps of fabric.
Now she was unequivocally curious. What manner of intimates most appealed to Wenhong?
From their brief entanglement, she imagined him to be a man captivated by classic colors on enticingly bold cuts. Lingerie intended to be sultry secrets unveiled before hungered gaze through slow, sensual striptease, or peeled away with impatience. No. From their push-and-pull banter, she gathered him to be a lover that somehow offered the best of both worlds. He might let a woman act of her own seductive accord, only to seize control when least expected, just as he had done repeatedly that night. Just as he had done with that unforgettable kiss, of which her pout tingled with phantom remnants of his spice upon mere recollection. He might peel or pry away articles of clothing, but never in a droll, repetitive manner. He might even leave her aching with the desire to be stripped bare. The very thought of Xu Wenhong thrilled her.
It shouldn't have. At all. But especially not with his wife present.
Their hands accidentally brushed upon reaching for a sheer robe paired with its sister garments. A tiny burst of static electricity shocked Wanmei back to reality. She reined in that blush-kissed absentmindedness and acknowledged, "Red is your color. I think it would suit you well." Perhaps a little too well. She was made to grapple with her vivid imaginings now painted over the rightful figure of Xu Sufen with twinges of shame and envy.
"Would you like to try them on? I could hold your things for you." She offered in kind to free her of burden from shawl and purse. The latter of which may potentially have something of interest, if Sufen was the sort to carry detailed schedule-book or any such related items on her person.
The first exchange of gaze between the pair was frozen for a short moment in time. Sufen wasn't just doing it mindlessly. Her poise remained elegant. But her eyes darted with measured grace from Wanmei's tip to toe. She picked up on her shoulders tensing; her grasp around the handle of her bag tightening. The rose even shuffled herself one step back when she came within touching distance, as if she was already yielding to the standoff in their little arena even before it began.
Female drama.
Deliberate provocation, because the Mistress was feeling particularly sour.
It delighted Sufen, knowing she had managed to subdue the woman with her imposing aura, of which she had been sculpturing to near perfection for the most of her entire life. Hell, there were even men who had prostrated themselves in front of Sufen before, literally and figuratively for her for a plethora of reasons, some of which, involved helpless sobbing and had to do with their lives hanging on a thread. Sufen had no qualms, nor did she ever feel a shed of sympathy for those threads that she had chosen to snap. All that really mattered to her, was that she was able to successfully exercise and impinge her will onto another, by force if it ever came down to that. In her sense, her incredibly stifling upbringing had created a monster, who was now out to reclaim power that was taken away from her, with a vengeance. And by the gods, was she having a field day now that she had built herself a fearsome reputation.
"To think that you should be the very one who's appointment I unknowingly intruded upon... How embarrassing."
"I really like you, Shen Mei. Hence you're forgiven."
Sufen indulged her with a soft titter that came along with an authentic smile. It could pull of as a playful comment made in jest. But any person who knew Sufen long enough would understand that it was a statement laced with surreptitious venom.
The dame was nimble whenever an opportunity arose to implicitly establish the order of power in her every human relationship. In this case, she made it seem as if it was right that the rose was valid to be feeling embarrassed, and that she had the grace to excuse her trespass, that perhaps she should be thankful for. There was an air of patronage in her body language. Even when speaking to the rose, she afforded her no more than just a tilt of her head to the side to meet her. The rest of her figure was frontward facing, more interestedly facing the boutique. She did that all with suchfinesse, subtlety and implicitness, it was almost impossible to accuse Sufen of being conceited, without one at risk of being counter labeled as presumptuous. It was knives pointed at each others' throat, with Sufen's blade being the longer one, tip already prodding against Wanmei's skin.
In this regard, Sufen's obsession with domination was childish and immature. But who would ever dare call her out? Wenhong attempted before. He survived unlike most. But even so, he did not emerge unscathed and ended up being pretty dismal in the times he engaged her.
"Simply looking to spruce up your wardrobe?"
"Or are you looking to impress a certain lucky Mister?"
"Oh, not at all."
"I'm afraid I have no one to impress at present."
Sufen's sweet smile persisted, and there was a moment's silence shared between the two ladies, as if she was expecting Wanmei to correct herself say something else. It was only when the pause was starting to turn a tad bit awkward that Sufen breathed a faintly doubtful "Hmm."
"No matter. Can't a woman dress solely to impress herself?" "I am skilled with needle and thread to mend pieces when needed, but living here and being exposed to such pretty fashions regularly, I... Well. It makes me want to indulge."
"Are you actually? If you don't mind, I have a few pieces that need patch work. And it just kept slipping my mind that I needed to head down to the seamstress. It'll be really convenient if you can help me with that at the Rose Village, to save me the trouble of a half an hour ride downtown."
"We can do it over a cup of tea and some French pastries. I realised I haven't actually gotten a chance to settle down with you and get to know.. you." That last time Wanmei was involved in a work place gossip, it was whispered that Xu Sufen had almost virtually never made time for any member of staff beneath the executive committee, needless to say, an invitation for a tea break. It was evident that Sufen was holding Wanmei to a high regard. But for what reasons particularly, for better or worse, Wanmei could only speculate.
"With that said," "If you'd like, I'd love for you to join me." "Really? ...Ah, I shouldn't impose on your precious shopping time."
"I can use your opinion, as you can use mine. What do you say?"
"I am certain that you possess a keener eye in that regard, but I would be delighted to join your company."
"Great. Shall we then, Shen Mei?"
Hence, the entanglement and the dance of thorns officially began, of roots and roses.
"Madam Xu, do you often shop here? These pieces are certainly...more daring than anything I'm accustomed to." "As a matter of fact, I do."
"My husband can be a feisty one. Pick one to his taste, and he may well ruin it within a night."
"What is with men and their obsession with destroying the precious stockpile of a lady's wardrobe? What disrespect to the hands that painstakingly sewn these." There was a pause, whilst Sufen was busying sieving through a rack that was directly behind Wanmei. "It's been a while since we last got intimate." Her volume noticeably dropped, still audible, but Wanmei would have to focus her attention to absorb what she spilled. There was a hint of melancholy in her voice. "So here I am, trying to reignite that flame." A woman of intense feelings, Sufen was momentarily lost in her emotions, unwittingly let slip more information than she should have, especially to a woman of suspect. It was clear the state of her relationship of late was starting to consume her from within, underneath that steely poise of her.
Then, she shook her head and dismissed the detraction with a soft, exceedingly rare laugh that painted her vulnerable. "Anyway, I was saying. But what are we to do? We live in a men's world. We pander to their whims and fancies. It can be frustrating. Don't you reckon, Shen Mei?" It was at that moment that she pirouetted herself around and reached for a particularly catchy lingerie, blooming red, between a sea of classic blacks. That was, quite astoundingly, when their hands connected for the first time since they were first acquainted to one another.
"Red is your color. I think it would suit you well."
"Would you like to try them on? I could hold your things for you."
"Nonsense."
"You are my rose. I'd be thrilled to have you adorn in my colours. Please."
While Wanmei offered to hold her belongings, Sufen took it upon herself to grasp her handbag and have it placed onto the nearby vintage armchair, grabbed the hanger with the set of red laces with one hand and Wanmei's left wrist with another, pulling her along over to the mirror piece by the vanity desk that was placed at the centre of the display-cum-changing room.
The Mistress centered Wanmei onto the mirror frame, had her fingers reaching out for the zipper by the back of her skirt, before she halted herself and stared towards the reflection of the shop owner, who was standing right behind them.
"Would you give us two some privacy, Ms Laurent?" She had a smile on her face. But her tone was firm, and plausibly annoyed. "Ohh yes certainly, my apologies. I'll close the door and will be right outside if you ever need me!" With that, the French lady made swift work of brisking her way out of the vicinity, soon leaving the two women alone to themselves at the thud of the door.
Sufen's fingers resumed working. The silence around them was deafening, so much so that the movement of the zippers rang loud and crisp. Before long, her skirt came off, pooling around her ankles. The dame continued to strip the rose down systematically. First, her fingers tugged against the waistband of her underwear on both sides, peeling it down, then allowing the force of gravity to do the remaining work of dragging it beyond her knees, stacking above her skirt. Then, her digits curled around the bottom rim of her blouse, pulling it off her top before plopping it onto the ground aside. Finally, her brassiere. In similar fashion, she lifted it off the rose's body, removing the last metaphorical petal off her stem.
"You're so pretty."
In a shrewd act of power play, Sufen, still fully clothed herself, reduced her Rose to bare nothing, to a state of psychological vulnerability. She roamed her fingers on Wanmei's lithe form like she owned her as a piece of ornament, fingers surveying the pliability of her body at various parts, brushing, stroking, teasing, groping. Varying degrees of approach meant to study and evoke any sort of reaction from her, to better understand her as a person. The brazenness of her fondles was probably all too familiar to the aspiring song bird. It seemed like all of ravenous Shanghai was out to seize a piece of the fair lady for themselves.
After a good three minutes of silent sensual harassment caress, the Femme fatale decided her Rose was baked enough for the grilling. Her voice, breaking the stillness of the air.
"May I ask you something, Shen Wanmei?"
"Someone at Rose Village saw you leaving the premise with my husband the other day late in the evening."
"That day also happened to be the last time I had seen and spoken to him."
...
Her hands continued to take their sweet time outraging her modesty, only finally popping the question some time later.
...
"Is this something that I should be worrying about?"
"My husband can be a feisty one. Pick one to his taste, and he may well ruin it within a night."
Made men of Shanghai were similar in that regard, huh? Viciously stake their claim over not only business territory, but in the territory of women as well. Conquests of the economic and carnal which paid little heed to the people (or pretty garments) they hurt in doing so. Sardonic amusement flickered within Wanmei while browsing, somewhat tempered by what she most certainly hadn't missed overhearing.
She paused with wordless glance over her shoulder. Sufen however, merely kept her back turned and continued sifting through clothing like normal. As if those whispers had been misleading squeaks of hangers and rustles of cloth. But she couldn't drive it from her thoughts. How defeated the proud Rose Village matriarch sounded then. Such contrast from the almost singsong glib way she 'complained' of Wenhong's passion. How lonely her profile now appeared. For all of her grandeur and power, she possessed a normal woman's insecurities at heart. Wifely concerns over a husband's absent affections.
It wasn't uncommon for wealthy men to cling to a wife in the light and a mistress or two in the shadows, reminiscent of the olden days when emperors had concubines. In this way, a woman may fulfill her expected role while not always being plagued by a man's sexual appetite. However, Sufen's forlorn words laid bare an opposite reality. She could sense that she didn't see intimacy with Wenhong as a bother, likely far from it. That she truly seemed to lament when his heart and body did not turn solely to her.
Hypocritical, she knew, but Wanmei itched to say something. To offer comfort to another woman as only a woman could. Yet courtesy dictated it wasn't her place. Courtesy also dictated she politely overlook what she wasn't meant to overhear. And so, she met her somewhat clumsy resignation on the state of women and men in the world with placid, "Mm. They say it is a woman's lot to suffer and endure in life. But who helps hold these men up? We do. Therefore, we have more power than they realize. Especially you, jiějie. So-"
Somehow. In that flash of red in a sea of dark lace, in that electrifying spark of skin to skin contact, everything began to unravel beyond Wanmei's wildest comprehensions.
"You are my rose. I'd be thrilled to have you adorn in my colours. Please."
Possessiveness and pervading chill pricked through Sufen's insistence to do otherwise. Wanmei felt fluttering alarm when sweetness did not reach the dark glittering coals of her eyes and she latched onto her wrist. "W-what? Just a moment! Madam Xu!" Dragged along so swiftly and firmly, she stumbled in her heels.
This was no polite gesture to relinquish the piece they both reached for onto the other. This was not a friendly display of bolstering another's confidence either. Instead of luring a lioness into a trap, she had somehow stumbled into one herself. To what extent and what it pertained to, she didn't know. But it was a trap nonetheless, Wanmei was certain. Even when they came to sudden stop before the dressing mirror, her head still spun. Lingerie thrust unceremoniously in hand and Sufen prepared to disrobe her just as unceremoniously, there was a glimmer of hope when the shop assistant emerged.
Clutching the lace hanger to her chest, Wanmei's eyes met the blonde's within the reflection. Her own wide and fearful. When Sufen asked be left alone, there was the barely perceptible shake of her head in plea for otherwise.
Of course money and power spoke louder than goodness and morality in this godforsaken city.
The shutting door shuttered her hopes. Being alone with Xu Sufen had never felt so overbearing before. As if the very shadow of the woman might crush her like a tin can. She closed her eyes and allowed herself one ragged breath. The sound quivered out in rush and tore into her remaining composure when Sufen tore into her clothing.
"Please." "I don't think this would look good on me, let me find something else." "I can manage on my own."
Each meager protest or attempt to barter for a shred of private agency was ignored or met with silken refusal. Each bashful shift had her posture corrected to face the mirror with Sufen in pseudo-embrace from behind. She knew better than to quite literally shove the woman away. And so Shen Wanmei was left with the miserable predicament of letting her mistress strip her down. To whatever purpose she wished to achieve.
If she sought to fluster the rose? Then Wanmei bloomed in full. Blanched though she was, flushed color followed every caressing instant. If she sought to unnerve her? Then she had been sufficiently at ill-ease from this peculiarly assertive display.
Goosebumps raised all across fair flesh, but the lilted whisper of, "You're so pretty.", managed to raise the hairs on the back of her neck.
She shivered. And once she shivered, she couldn't quite stop. Minute tremors swept from head to toe and sparks from base of spine to neck. Mockingly, Sufen slowly dragged a manicured fingertip along the flat of her stomach, making the toned feature go concave with sharp inhale. "M-Madam Xu...?" Wanmei clutched tightly onto the hung garment like a lifeline. One tragically unhelpful. She squirmed. Weak breaths, gasps, and half-formed syllables beckoning to a sense of order streamed forth. One after the other. There was no justifiable reason for this. For any of this.
Sufen canvased the soft jade and curves of her body with an authority she did not possess. That almost mirroring a lover. Almost. There was something darkly covetous and dogged to her explorations of which she couldn't understand. Wanmei had never been touched intimately by a woman before. Let alone in this jarring fashion. Her heart thudded in sick syrupy-sweet bewilderment. Certainly felt when the woman fully kneaded Wanmei's breasts. The first squeeze made her knees buckle, unwittingly falling back into Sufen. What met her wasn't the broader, firm and flat planes of a man's body. But the equally soft contours of a feminine physique and the cooler qipao silk against her skin.
Head lolled with another sharp gasp. "May I ask you something, Shen Wanmei?" The women were of such similar heights, that her whisper floated directly into her ear like honey-laced arsenic. "Someone at Rose Village saw you leaving the premise with my husband the other day late in the evening." Through the overwhelming ordeal, it was as if another bucket of ice cold water splashed over her. "What?"
"That day also happened to be the last time I had seen and spoken to him."
Flustered, burning gaze sought Sufen's within the mirror. Wanmei swallowed to ease the dryness constricting her throat. "They saw wrong."
It was then she realized what Sufen had been doing. She likely wished to see for herself the woman she believed to have led her husband astray. She made jealous-fueled pilgrimage to the places she believed Wenhong to have touched prior. Chasing the vestiges of some forbidden passion and then tainting it with her own.
"Is this something that I should be worrying about?"
Even if the affair hadn't yet ran deeply as whatever Sufen imagined, she was correct in intrinsic assumptions of a husband's wandering attention. This should have been enough to rattle Wanmei entirely. However, these illicit theatrics in getting to the bottom of matters and its forcefulness converged into a hot stone roiling in the pit of her stomach.
Shen Wanmei did not buckle. She did not continue to writhe in heated helplessness to her goading ministrations.
"Enough." The little rose's tone rang with steel. As had her encircling grip of Sufen's wrist. Bangles clinked together with the sudden quelling action. "That is enough, Xu Sufen. I said, they saw wrong. Or more precisely, if I had to wager-" Still grasping onto her, Wanmei turned around until they stood face to face. Close. Enough that she could spot the natural little cracks which formed in the center of her lips swathed beneath crimson lipstick. Enough that her breaths disturbed the fine hairs framing Sufen's face. "-they saw a part of something and then walked away to complete a picture in their head. Because a rose running off with the Madam's spouse makes for a more scandalizing tale, doesn't it?"
She paused to let her words take root. Though the rumor wasn't immediately dispelled. The faintest smile threatened to tug at Wanmei's lips. She deserved to roil in at least a hint of discomfort for the swarm inflicted upon her.
"Yes, your husband came to speak with me after a performance. He waited for me out back to say he quite enjoyed it and to officially welcome me to the Rose Village family. He then offered to give me a ride. One which, if your darling source dared to eavesdrop on to completion, I did not take." All of these were truths. Though somewhat cherry-picked. Wanmei wouldn't dare divulge what Wenhong said of his wife that night, nor would she necessarily cover for him. "I left first. Alone." Wanmei remained calm and measured in her explanations. However, her nostrils slightly flared with betrayed hint of the indignation and injustice she felt.
"If it would help lay your mind at ease, shall I give you the name of the establishment I then went to dine at so you can ask?" A bluff. Somewhat. She trusted that either Weiqiang had enough pull for them to lie on her behalf or that Sufen might grow shamed enough to back down.
"I do not know where your husband is, Xu jiějiě, or why it is that you haven't seen him since that day." She lifted her chin to meet her gaze straight on. The near bruising grip around her wrist grew lax, Wanmei rubbing circles along the tender flesh with thumb as her demeanor softened sympathetically. "And for that I am sorry. It seems your marriage is not without strife. How troubled and lonesome you must feel. But I don't believe this is the right path to mending those cracks."
As suddenly as the rose dared to prick her alleged owner, she pushed the lingerie she had somehow managed to cling onto in that ordeal square in the center of Sufen's chest. Fabric released, either to be caught or flutter between them to the floor. She felt oddly satisfied after her emboldened defense. Wanmei's nakedness no longer mortified her as before. In sharp solemn, she turned away from the woman entirely to yank her panties and skirt up.
Sufen could not resist a grin when Wanmei fell back against her for support, when her cupping of her bosoms destabilised her. Her back was met by a pair of generously voluptuous bust, probably more endowed than the Rose's, yet still admirably taut and perky for a woman in her thirties. It was a joy for the power hungry Matriarch to see another one of her younger ladies fall prey and helpless to her casual intimidation, a joy yielding from successfully coming up tops in their little girly power play established most subtly but directly, hinting where she believed Wanmei stood between them - while she was generously cordial to her, Wanmei shouldn't mistaken her gestures for a good friend, but her superior, her queen bee, whom she should be answering to at the end of the day.
Combative Sufen relished Wanmei putting on her show of defence, if not defiance. Admittedly, at least from the Matriarch's perspective, Wanmei had been entirely convincing with her rebuttal. She spoke truths that corroborated with some other facts and nuances of that evening that she overheard from her members of staff, but did not bring up in the present confrontation, because she wanted to hear about them for herself, and perhaps, allowing herself to catch the Rose out at any attempts at lying.
But as Wanmei spoke, her eyes were passionately fuelled by the energy of being so wrongly maligned, never once breaking gaze. It was hard to believe she was lying - that, or she was an incredibly talented actress. So when Wanmei took a gamble by pulling in the establishment implicated that evening, Sufen unwittingly bought into her bluff.
So convincing was her act, Wanmei actually made the older lady feel like she had… disrespected her?
No lady had ever dared to stand up against the femme fatale and made her feel that way before. Even if she had wronged anyone, she had always been able to meticulously construe and warp a given situation, until the innocent could be seen to be partially at fault, so to save herself the blushes. She could be too proud to admit her mistakes at times.
Wanmei held an entirely different aura and demeanour to Sufen, which was not necessarily any last inferior. Sufen was fiery and imposing, whereas Wanmei seemed ice cold solid and unwavering. Her exuding of feminine strength reminded her of someone. Wanmei reminded Sufen of… herself.
And just like that, the Rose earned the Matriarch's implicit respect, for being able to hold her ground.
That didn't mean Wanmei was let off the hook. Sufen didn't particularly like Wanmei, not because she was an awful person, but that Wanmei - literally translates to perfect - in her entirety made her feel threatened. And she didn't like that. In a sense, Sufen was quite like Wenhong - there could be only one figure standing right at the top of the podium, which is themselves. But Sufen was composed enough not to let her toxic envy show. She needed Wanmei to assist her with an assignment.
"If it is indeed true, what you've said, then I am truly sorry." What a way to apologise without actually apologising, holding back the apology for as long as there was the slightest doubt still lingered in the air.
"I hope you understand where I'm coming from, Shen Wanmei." The solemnity of calling her out by her name instead of the much more cordial little sister was palpable. "I'm not sure if you truly understand the pain of being closer and closer to losing your beloved, as each day passes." Sufen was quick to hover herself back into Wanmei's field of vision barely seconds after she spun herself away, demanding her attention by twirling her around towards her direction, through the firm grip on both of her wrists. Wanmei might have managed to dress her bottom back up, but her top remained bare. The lady boss however didn't care for Wanmei's supple, tantalising breasts staring right back at her. Her modesty was not in her latest agenda of self-interest. Once Wanmei was positioned right back in front of her, she withdrew her hands and wrapped her arms around her own body. There was an air of silent desperation dressed in commanding presence in her demeanour, eyes piercing into hers, woman to woman.
"You and I both know that I did not drag you along with me to test garments and lingerie."
"Truthfully, I had mixed feelings when I first heard of those rumours. But since you've allayed my fears…"
"I need your help, Shen Wanmei." The lady boss paused, as she took a moment to appraise the Rose's reaction. Her gaze, in earnest. "My husband doesn't often mingle with people within my circle. So it's difficult to get hold of him. For whatever reason, he has taken a liking for you, of which I hope is nothing more than a platonic intention."
"As routine, he is heading to Xi'an this weekend. It had been a regular destination over the past months. He said it's business related. But I'm not sure if whatever is happening over there, might be the cause of his lukewarmness towards me in recent times."
"I need to know what he is up to on the other side of the country."
"I need you to help me track his movements."
"Here is the pla-"
"… you can't just barge in here like that!"
There was an abrupt commotion coming from outside of the room, before the women were rudely interrupted by the sudden entry of Xu Wenhong.
"Can't a husband see his wife in the changing roo-"
"Oh."
Wenhong was speaking to the French lady the entire time right until the very end, before he shifted his gaze into the room to find his eyes landing on not one, but two gorgeous ladies.
Given the context and history between all parties involved, it was amazing how Wenhong managed to hold an exquisitely composed front. His eyes barely gave Wanmei a scan longer than the initial two seconds gaze, never once lingered his fovea down south to her oh-so-enticing breasts before refocusing his attention back onto his wife. It was as if nothing awkward ever happened between the both of them, or that they have even met each other before for that matter.
Hence began the mind games.
"Hmm."
"You had me take time off my schedule to visit you in a woman's boutique of all locations."
"I thought you were planning on consulting me privately on some opinions that might concern you and me."
"I guess you've found yourself a better candidate to assist you with that."
It was hard to tell if Wenhong meant his words in jest, or with annoyance shrouded by a flawless facade.
"Qing ai de.This is Shen Wanmei, our newest rose addition."
Sufen introduced Wanmei as if she hadn't already been given a tip off that the two had previously met, not wanting to arouse suspicion of her suspicion. It did seem peculiar that Wenhong looked a tad too aloof to the Rose, given that she knew Wanmei and her husband were already beyond acquainted with each other. But with much of everything still shrouded by the fog of war, Sufen didn't wish to jump the gun early without being undisputedly certain that something was up between the both of them.
Wenhong was absolutely oblivious to what games his wife might be playing at. He was stoic on the outside. But he'd be lying if he wasn't slightly concerned about the possible wrath and fury his wife might unleash, if she brought him here to call him, them, out on their little rendezvous that fateful evening. Wenhong swore he had managed to cover his tracks the entire night. So if Sufen had somehow managed to catch him despite his years of reconnaissance and espionage experiences, then it was a rude awakening call that he had truly underestimated and had gotten complacent to the capabilities of his wife. The man found himself walking on a tight rope, but could only press on by threading the path ahead with his fingers crossed.
"Wanmei has gained a rapid following over the past weeks. So much so that a friend who was here to sit in on Wanmei's performance during her first week at the Rose Village, was so impressed, that he requested that she make a guest appearance at Xi'an this Saturday evening at his establishment."
"You are heading up to Xi'an this weekend too, aren't you?"
"Can I trouble you to allow my rose to hitch a ride up north with you? It's not safe for a lady to make a trip so far away alone like that."
"This will do good for the repute of Rose Village. She'll do well to spread the word of our existence with her performance, that I'm sure. And we're promised a generous sum in exchange for her guest appearance this weekend."
"Please, do this for me, my darling."
Wenhong finally shifted his eyes over to Wanmei to give her a secondary glance over, but very firmly restricted his gaze to not linger beyond the boundary of her chin, before turning his eyes back to his wife. Wenhong wasn't showing nerves. He was as calm as he characteristically was, perhaps even a little cold.
"That's going to slow me down."
"But if transporting, and not escorting her the whole time is all I need to do, I suppose I can do." Wenhong very opportunistically attempted to establish his ambivalence towards the rose.
"Please. You don't need to keep your eyes on her twenty four seven. But it'll be great if you can occasionally watch out for her."
"You should know a lady like Wanmei would draw in the hornets and beasts if left alone."
Oh no he was not going to be drawn into Sufen's calculated play of carrot baiting, trying to lure him out to speak compliments that she could then use it later against him with a vengeance. So Wenhong only afforded her a faint titter as a response, as if amused, for it was better to remain silent than risk saying things that could give Sufen another reason to start a fight. That much he had learned from their past altercations.
"I'll try."
"Well."
"I'll head out first if there is nothing else. My car is right outside. Ready to leave when you're ready."
"That won't be necessary, qing ai de. I think I'm done here." Sufen picked the red lace set that Wanmei reached for earlier, before handing it haphazardly over to the shop lady, then quick to revert her attention back to her beloved. "I'll get this, and with you, I shall take my leave." The lady boss then turned her head towards the topless rose, speaking on.
"Please, Shen Mei. Take all the time you need and pick what you fancy around here. It will be charged to my tab. This is my way of saying thanks for making the trip up for me this weekend." Sufen gave Wanmei the briefest of a wide smile, before she hooked her arm around the elbow of her husband to pull him in close, before tugging the man along towards the exit whilst the French lady frantically attempted to bag up her purchase before rushing towards the exit to hand it over to the boss lady.
For a brief split second when Sufen turned away, as if Wenhong had been waiting for a chance when his wife wasn't paying attention to them, he gave Wanmei an apologetic glance that spoke a thousand words, before he walked out of the establishment.
Just like that, Wanmei was soon left to her own.
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