Chapter Thirteen: Escorting Secretary Qian Home

Chapter Thirteen: Escorting Secretary Qian Home

On the dance floor.

Bai Zeshao gracefully wrapped his arm around Qian Huiwen’s slender waist, his expression calm and his steps measured as they danced together.

Snap!

The crisp sound of a high heel snapping reached Bai Zeshao’s ears, and in the next instant, a warm, delicate body tumbled into his arms. The faint scent of perfume, laced with traces of alcohol, drifted to his nose, making him feel a ticklish awkwardness. “Sister Huiwen, let me take you over to that chair,” he said.

“All right, it’s been so long since I last danced—I’m really not used to it anymore. I can’t believe even my heel broke. Looks like I shouldn’t drink so much in the future.” With Bai Zeshao’s help, Qian Huiwen straightened up, nodding with a self-deprecating smile.

He supported her back to their table, where they found Monkey already quite drunk, while Tian Haiming, though not quite as far gone, was clearly tipsy. Seeing the situation, Bai Zeshao suggested, “It’s getting late. Let’s head out.”

“Sure,” Tian Haiming agreed, then glanced at Bai Zeshao and asked, “What about you?” His gaze flickered toward Qian Huiwen, the implication obvious. Unexpectedly, Qian Huiwen replied directly, “You all go ahead. I’ll have Xiaobai take me home.”

“All right, then we won’t intrude.” Tian Haiming quickly gathered the inebriated Monkey and Tiger and hurried out.

“Sister Huiwen, let’s go too. I’ll be officially starting work tomorrow, and I’ve got the night shift,” Bai Zeshao said casually.

“Night shift? What for?” Qian Huiwen asked in surprise.

“Well, you know these past few days our team’s been keeping watch on that Red Party member,” Bai Zeshao explained.

Qian Huiwen only smiled mysteriously at him.

Soon after, Bai Zeshao helped Qian Huiwen out of the Rose Dance Hall, only to discover she’d driven herself there. He couldn’t help but sigh inwardly at her status as a true lady of means—while he could only manage a bicycle.

While Bai Zeshao was driving Qian Huiwen home, in a luxurious villa in the city center, Qian Yihai returned, his rotund figure swaying with the effects of drink.

“Sir, you’re back. I’ll go prepare some hangover soup for you,” Aunt Wang, the housekeeper, greeted him as he entered.

“Aunt Wang, you’re still up? All right, make me a bowl,” Qian Yihai replied, his eyes bleary as he sank onto the living room sofa.

Soon, Aunt Wang brought out a steaming bowl of soup and handed it to him. Qian Yihai took a sip, closing his eyes in satisfaction. “Aunt Wang, your cooking really is something, and you’re always so quick. You’ve been with us for years now, haven’t you?”

“It’s been over four years, sir,” Aunt Wang replied with a smile, then added with concern, “I know you’ve been coming home late lately, and often after drinking, so I made sure to have hangover soup ready.”

“It’s not like I want to come home this late!” Qian Yihai grumbled, rubbing his bald head. “It’s those Action Squad and Intelligence Division bastards, interrogating that Red Party member day and night. Anything they need signed, it’s always me—after all, we’re talking about big money. But since it’s late, I just had a bit of food and a few drinks.”

Shifting his bulk, he continued, “Still, I’m really curious how those Red Party people can be so steadfast in their beliefs. In this day and age, faith and power are nonsense—only silver dollars and gold bars are worth anything.”

Aunt Wang smiled quietly at his words. Qian Yihai was truly an odd one; he wasn’t particularly passionate about women, but his obsession with money was almost frightening. Any chance to make a profit, and he’d find a way to get involved.

Still, from what he’d said, it seemed Mr. Li hadn’t betrayed anyone yet. This brought Aunt Wang some relief, but also a sense of urgency. Once the enemy realized they couldn’t extract anything, execution would surely follow.

Qian Yihai glanced at Aunt Wang and said, “Tidy up, I’m going to bed.”

“Yes, sir.”

...

“Sister Huiwen, you live alone in such a big villa?” Having parked the car and helped her inside, Bai Zeshao marveled at the luxurious decor.

“Is it big?” Qian Huiwen replied offhandedly, bending down to change into slippers. But as her foot touched the floor, she couldn’t help but cry out.

“What’s wrong?” Bai Zeshao asked, concerned.

“I must have twisted my ankle while dancing,” she said, leaning against the wall and massaging her ankle.

Bai Zeshao looked around, then without a word, swept Qian Huiwen into his arms. Startled, she reflexively drove her elbow into his chest.

He coughed, hastily explaining, “Sister Huiwen, don’t misunderstand—I just wanted to carry you to the sofa. By the way, I know a bit about massage. Back in military school, whenever I got hurt, I’d handle it myself. Let me help you.”

Qian Huiwen snorted softly, her cheeks tinged with red, her thoughts in turmoil. Still, she didn’t object.

Bai Zeshao set her down on the sofa, picked up a bottle of brandy from the table, poured a little out, and began gently massaging her injured ankle. The living room was silent, yet a warm atmosphere began to bloom.

Qian Huiwen looked down at the focused Bai Zeshao, her gaze growing distant as her thoughts wandered. She recalled another face—resolute, just like his—and felt a wave of melancholy.

“How does that feel, Sister Huiwen?” Bai Zeshao asked as he worked, but after a while with no reply, he looked up. “Sister Huiwen? Sister Huiwen?”

“What?” She blinked, returning to herself.

“I asked how you’re feeling,” Bai Zeshao repeated with a gentle smile.

“Oh, it’s fine. You can stop now—it’s nothing serious.” She replied absently, then looked at him and said, “Xiaobai, from now on just call me ‘Sister.’ I always wanted a younger brother.”

“All right, Sister,” Bai Zeshao replied, sensing the genuine care in her words.

“Remember, if you ever have trouble at the Bureau, you can come to me,” Qian Huiwen said, looking at him with a protective fondness.

“I know, Sister. It’s late, so I’ll be going.”

“Take care on the road.”

After Bai Zeshao left, Qian Huiwen went to her bedroom, opened her safe, and from its depths took out a photograph. In it were two people: herself, and a tall, steadfast young man.

She stroked the photo gently, lost in silence for a long, long time…