Chapter 27 Recognizing One's Own Position

In early February, not long after the Spring Festival, Beijing was still immersed in the lingering festive atmosphere. However, the Huo family's old residence had already lost its usual solemn atmosphere—the red lanterns had been taken down, the Spring Festival couplets were still left, but the deliberately created sense of celebration had faded away.

Huo Yanli sat on the sofa in the living room, flipping through a financial magazine, but his mind wasn't on the dense data. He had just returned from a business trip to Hong Kong, and three consecutive days of intensive meetings had left him somewhat exhausted, but what was even more tiring was receiving a call from his mother as soon as he got back, telling him that he "must come back to the old house."

Freshly brewed Longjing tea sat on the coffee table, its aroma wafting through the air. Mrs. Huo sat in an armchair opposite him, wearing a dark green velvet cheongsam with a cashmere shawl, her hair meticulously styled in a bun. She held a celadon teacup, sipping it gracefully, but a lingering reserve and…discrimination, characteristic of women of this social class, remained between her brows.

"Yanli," Mrs. Huo put down her teacup, the porcelain clinking against the tray, "Is Song Zhiyi... coming back soon?"

Huo Yanli paused, turning the page. He looked up, his tone flat: "It should be. His assignment abroad is over."

"Hmm." Mrs. Huo nodded, picked up a small silver tweezer, and added a sugar cube to her teacup—she didn't actually drink sweet tea much, it was just a habitual action to buy time or to appear calm. "Now that you're coming back, there are some things that need to be made clear in advance."

Huo Yanli didn't respond, waiting for what was to come.

Mrs. Huo gently stirred the tea with a teaspoon, her gaze fixed on the swirling liquid in the cup. Her voice was soft, but each word was enunciated clearly: "Grandpa said that when she comes back, we have to hold a family banquet. It's a way of... formally introducing her to the family."

She paused, looked up at her son, and her eyes held a complex mix of emotions—not joy, not anticipation, but a sense of almost helpless responsibility: "Although everyone knows how this marriage turned out... Now that we've entered the Huo family, we still have to go through the formalities."

Huo Yanli closed the magazine and put it aside. He leaned forward slightly, picked up his teacup, but didn't drink from it; he simply held it, feeling the warmth emanating from the porcelain.

The living room fell silent for a few seconds. Only the antique grandfather clock on the wall ticked rhythmically, each chime echoing in the still air.

Mother Huo spoke again, this time in a lower voice, with a hint of warning: "Yanli, there are some things I need to remind you of."

Huo Yanli looked at his mother.

“That child, Song Zhiyi,” Mrs. Huo carefully chose her words, “has a respectable family background and a decent job, there’s nothing wrong with that. But you have to understand, she and our Huo family are ultimately from different worlds.”

She put down the teaspoon, placed her hands on her knees with a folded hand, and spoke with a gradually stern tone: "Her parents were gone when she was young, and she grew up with her maternal grandfather. Although her grandfather was an old revolutionary, he was still... lacking in cultural background. She has never seen the real world, does not understand the rules of our circle, does not know how to speak, how to act, or how to... be a good daughter-in-law of the Huo family."

Huo Yanli's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He recalled his uncle Huo Zheng's words, and the woman his grandfather had described who had calmly navigated the chaos of war. But he said nothing, only listened.

“So for this family dinner,” Mrs. Huo continued, her eyes sharpening, “you need to make her understand her place. It’s not about embarrassing her, but about showing her proper boundaries. Just because she’s your legal wife doesn’t mean she can truly integrate into this circle, can…”

She paused for a moment, as if searching for a more suitable word, but finally said bluntly, "We can stand on equal footing with the Huo family."

Huo Yanli tightened his grip on the teacup. The porcelain was getting too hot to handle.

“Mom,” he began, his voice calm and even, “we have an agreement. Five years from now, we’ll go our separate ways. So you don’t need to worry about that.”

“The agreement is the agreement,” Mrs. Huo shook her head, “but for the next five years, she will be known as ‘Mrs. Huo,’ and her every word and action will represent the Huo family. I cannot let her embarrass the Huo family in public.”

She looked at her son, her tone softening slightly, but the meaning remained the same: "Yanli, Mom knows you're unwilling, and so am I. But the old man insists, and we, as the younger generation, can only go along with it. Since we can't change it, we have to manage it well. This family banquet is to make her realize that the Huo family accepted her because the old man values ​​loyalty and righteousness, not for any other reason. She should be grateful, she should keep to her place, and she should know what she can and cannot do."

Huo Yanli fell silent. He looked at the tea leaves floating in his cup and suddenly felt a sense of absurdity.

Gratitude? Staying true to one's duty?

If Song Zhiyi were truly the kind of person who needed to curry favor with the Huo family and be grateful to them, would she have spared him a single penny in the past two years? Would she have not even sent him a single message? Would she have silently stayed on the battlefield for two years and achieved so much on her own?

But he didn't say it. He knew it would be pointless. In his mother's—and in most of the Huo family's—eyes, Song Zhiyi was just a woman from an ordinary family who had climbed the social ladder through an arranged marriage. They wouldn't, and didn't want to, understand what kind of person she really was.

“Mom,” he put down his teacup, the porcelain clinking softly against the coffee table, “I’ll bring her to the family dinner. But as for the rest… let nature take its course.”

Mrs. Huo was clearly dissatisfied with this answer. She wanted to say something more, but Huo Yanli had already stood up.

"I have something to do at the company, so I'll be leaving now." He picked up his suit jacket from the sofa armrest. "You can arrange the family dinner. I'll be there on time."

Mrs. Huo looked at him, her lips moved, but in the end she just nodded: "Alright. You go about your business."

Huo Yanli put on his coat, but stopped at the door and turned back to ask, "What specific day is she coming back? Has it been decided?"

Mrs. Huo was taken aback, seemingly not expecting her son to ask this: "I heard from the old man that it will happen in the next few days. It seems to be... the day after tomorrow? The day after that? The old man has definite news, I'll ask him later."

"No need," Huo Yanli said. "I'll ask Uncle Chen."

He pushed open the door and left.

The old house had a long, dimly lit corridor. His leather shoes clattered dully on the wooden floor. As Huo Yanli walked, his mother's words echoed repeatedly in his mind.

"Make her realize her place."

Location?

What position? A position of being given charity, a temporary position, to be held by "Mrs. Huo" after five years?

He suddenly recalled the scene more than two years ago, in front of the Civil Affairs Bureau, when he said those things to her. He said, "All you can get is the title of Mrs. Huo," "The Huo family's resources have nothing to do with you," and "Let's part ways amicably after five years."

He spoke of it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, with a condescending air of charity and a cold indifference that distanced him from others.

Looking back now, when she calmly said "okay," was she also secretly...scoffing?

He scoffed at his arrogant self-importance and the assumption that everyone wanted to curry favor with the Huo family.

Huo Yanli walked to the front hall. The winter sun shone brightly in the courtyard, but it wasn't very warm. He lit a cigarette and stood on the veranda, smoking it.

The smoke rose slowly in the cold air and then dissipated.

My phone vibrated. It was a WeChat message from Ji Yun: "Want to drink tonight? Same place as always?"

Huo Yanli replied, "Something came up. Another time."

He put away his phone and stubbed out his cigarette in the stone jar next to him.

The day after tomorrow? The day after that?

She's coming back soon.

What will it be like when we meet again after more than two years apart?

Huo Yanli found himself somewhat... unable to imagine it.

All he knew was that the family dinner his mother had mentioned was nothing more than a formality he had to go through.

But what about Song Zhiyi?

That's probably true.

After all, there was nothing between them except for that marriage contract.

They weren't even strangers—at least strangers wouldn't have such an awkward and cold relationship.

He took a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs and making him feel refreshed.

That's fine.

It's just a formality.

It's all over now. Things will remain the same as before.

Huo Yanli strode away from the old house, his back view appearing distant and cold in the winter sunlight.

It was as if that brief moment of emotional turmoil had never happened.