Chapter 54 Going Home
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On a rare weekend, Shangqiu Zhu sat on the left side of the sofa wearing a dark gray cashmere loungewear, her laptop screen flashing with the quarterly report from the New York branch.
Across from the coffee table, Yan Shuang sat cross-legged on the carpet, with several thick financial engineering textbooks spread out in front of her.
She had a lollipop in her mouth, a small puff on her cheek, and occasionally tapped her chin lightly with the end of her pen. Her loose sweatshirt had slipped to one side, revealing a thin, light blue bra strap on her shoulder.
Scattered on the coffee table were the snacks she had bought: sea salt potato chips unwrapped, chocolate wrappers crumpled into small balls, and a half-empty cup of cola with a faint lipstick stain on the straw.
The only sounds in the living room were the typing on the keyboard and the rustling of pages turning.
As Shangqiu Zhu picked up her coffee cup, she caught a glimpse of her eyelashes, which appeared as transparent brown in the sunlight, fluttering like butterfly wings with each blink.
The bun in her hair bounced playfully as she shook her head.
He looked at his report again.
Yan Shuang was biting on the cola straw; the ice had almost melted.
She stared at the $25 "Signature Brown Sugar Pearl Milk Tea" on her phone screen, swiping through the delivery page.
Delivery fee is $8, tipping is recommended at 20%.
"Robbery..." she muttered to herself.
On the other end, Shangqiu Zhu started a video conference, his deep British English mixed with financial jargon, like a kind of regular white noise.
She suddenly thought of something and opened her browser to search for "homemade bubble tea".
As she scrolled down the page, her smile widened. Tapioca flour 3.99, brown sugar 3.99, brown sugar 4.50, and she already had black tea bags at home...
This works! She grabbed a sticky note from the coffee table and quickly wrote down: tapioca flour, brown sugar, and a fine-mesh strainer!
At the end, I even drew a crooked pearl emoji.
Yan Shuang tiptoed upstairs, afraid of disturbing Shang Qiuzhu who was working.
In the master bedroom, she changed her pajamas into a pale yellow dress and suddenly saw a long, slender shadow by the door in the mirror.
"President Shang." She turned around.
Shangqiu Zhu had finished the meeting sometime earlier and was leaning against the door frame.
His gaze swept over the canvas bag in her hand: "Going out?"
Yan Shuang nodded and folded the note she had written in half twice: "Go to the supermarket."
Shangqiu Zhu walked in, took out her wallet from the bedside table, and handed over a black card.
Yan Shuang shook her head: "No need, they're just small things."
Shangqiu Zhu's hand paused in mid-air for two seconds before finally placing the card on the dressing table.
Yan Shuang waited until his footsteps disappeared in the corridor, thought for a moment, then picked up the card and carefully put it into the pocket of her wallet.
As she went downstairs, she heard the garage door open.
Through the floor-to-ceiling window, you can see Shangqiu Zhu adjusting the rearview mirror.
Is he going out too?
After changing her shoes, Yan Shuang pushed open the small door leading to the courtyard.
But as she reached the end of the driveway, the black Maybach slowly pulled up beside her.
The car window rolled down, and Shangqiu Zhu tapped her fingers lightly on the steering wheel: "Get in."
"You...you're going to give me a ride?" she asked cautiously.
“If you dawdle any longer,” he raised an eyebrow at the note in her hand, “the supermarket is about to close.”
Yan Shuang quickly opened the car door, placed the canvas bag on her lap, folded her hands, and acted as obediently as a primary school student on her first field trip.
"Which supermarket?" Shangqiu Zhu asked at the red light.
Yan Shuang pointed to the right turn: "Mingzhu Supermarket, it's right..." She suddenly fell silent because she realized that the car had already turned to the correct intersection.
The sound of the piano filled the silence of the carriage like flowing water, while outside the window, the shadows of the plane trees flashed by.
The supermarket was noisy on the weekend, and she instinctively sought the quietest route, walking along the edge of the shelves.
Tapioca flour is placed at the bottom of the Asian ingredients section.
As she crouched down, her fingertips hesitated between the Thai and Vietnamese packaging, ultimately choosing the one with the reasonable price.
She almost bumped into someone when she got up, and hurriedly stepped back, but her back touched something warm.
Shangqiu Zhu appeared behind her at some point, placing a hand on her waist to block the flow of people.
"Thank you," Yan Shuang said in a breathy voice, her ear tips slightly burning.
There was a long queue in front of the cashier.
Yan Shuang counted the coins and put two back.
Just then, Shangqiu Zhu's phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and frowned slightly: "Wait a moment."
Yan Shuang nodded and stood quietly in place.
She watched Shang Qiuzhu walk to the end of the corridor to answer the phone, his tall shadow stretched long, all the way to her toes.
On the way back, Yan Shuang hugged the brown paper bag with satisfaction.
Shang Qiuzhu's phone vibrated again. He glanced at the caller ID and pressed the speakerphone button: "Ethan."
A cheerful male voice came from the other end of the phone: "Qiu Zhu! The Varnish is having a jazz night tonight, and Alex has brought his new band from New York..."
"I'm not going."
Yan Shuang quietly raised her eyes and saw Shang Qiuzhu's slightly furrowed brows in the rearview mirror.
“I’m not!” Ethan’s voice rose a few decibels. “You’ve rejected me three times already.”
Yan Shuang's fingertips stopped on the paper bag.
The Varnish, which she had just seen in a magazine last week, is a secret bar hidden behind Cole's French Dip sandwich shop and is hailed as the best speakeasy in Los Angeles.
She pursed her lips, her gaze unconsciously drifting towards the city lights flashing past the window.
The night breeze from Los Angeles blew in through the half-open car window, carrying the scent of distant sea salt and freedom.
In the rearview mirror, Shang Qiuzhu's gaze briefly met Yan Shuang's, and she didn't have time to hide the fleeting expectation that crossed her mind.
Ethan was still talking on the other end of the phone: "...just the time it takes to drink two glasses of wine..."
"Send me the address," Shangqiu Zhu said.
Yan Shuang looked up in surprise, meeting his gaze as he turned towards her.
In the darkness of night, Shangqiu Zhu's eyes resembled two bottomless lakes.
"Really?" Ethan sounded even more surprised than she was. "Are you sure?"
"I'll be there in twenty minutes." Shang Qiuzhu hung up the phone and turned to Yan Shuang. "Want to come?"
Yan Shuang gripped the edge of the paper bag tightly with her fingers and nodded excitedly, "Mmm!"
Shangqiu Zhu curled the corners of his mouth, turned on the turn signal, and the black Maybach smoothly merged into the left-turn lane.
The Varnish is tucked away in a narrow alley, with no sign at the entrance.
Ethan, a tall blond man, whistled exaggeratedly when he saw them: "Qiu Zhu brought a female companion? Is the end of the world coming?"
Yan Shuang instinctively took a half-step behind Shang Qiuzhu, but he gently pushed her forward: "Yan Shuang, my..."
"Secretary," Yan Shuang replied, her voice soft but clear.
Ethan warmly shook her hand: "It's so nice to meet you!"
Jazz music flowed from behind the heavy door, mingling with the sweet aroma of cocktails and the clamor of voices.
Yan Shuang secretly looked up and saw Shang Qiuzhu looking down at her, his eyes filled with emotions she couldn't understand.
"Go in." That was all he said in the end, placing his hand lightly behind her waist, just like in the supermarket, to keep a safe distance from her.
The lighting in the VIP room of the bar was dimmer than outside, with only one indigo spotlight on the velvet sofa.
Yan Shuang sat on the sofa, her mojito half-finished. Through the curved viewing window, she could see the dancers spinning on poles in the center of the stage.
She was a red-haired woman in a sequined miniskirt, and as the tips of her high heels glided across the floor, whistles erupted from the audience.
Yan Shuang glanced down at her pale yellow dress, which had a square neckline, puff sleeves, and a hem that fell three centimeters below her knees.
She was as conservative as a female teacher who had accidentally wandered into a nightclub.
"...So the key to the merger lies in the tax structure in Belgium." Ethan's voice suddenly rose as he leaned closer to Shang Qiuzhu, holding a glass of whiskey. "Right, QZ?"
Shangqiu Zhu looked up from her phone screen and gave a faint "hmm".
He sat in the center of the private room, his suit jacket already off and draped over the armrest.
The changing lights in the private room danced across his sharply defined face, sometimes blue, sometimes purple, but they could never dispel the innate coldness about him.
Yan Shuang quietly shrank further into the shadows. Ethan's friends were having a rapid discussion in English, occasionally bursting into laughter.
They spoke slang so fast, mixed with a lot of Wall Street jargon, that she could only understand about 30-40%.
Shangqiu bamboo remains aloof, yet moves with ease, like a snow leopard that is accustomed to being alone but understands the rules of group living.
The music on stage suddenly changed rhythm, and the intense drumbeats made the glass windows vibrate.
Through the viewing glass, you can see the crowd surging in the dance floor.
A girl in a patent leather mini-skirt was blowing kisses towards their private room.
Yan Shuang unconsciously touched her lips. It was a pity that she had only applied a light layer of lip balm today.
She whispered to Shang Qiuzhu, "I'm going to the restroom," and only got up after receiving a slight nod from him.
The VIP room corridor was carpeted with thick carpets, so high heels made no sound when they stepped on it. As you turned the corner, a champagne-colored whirlwind suddenly crashed into you.
"Ah!" The blonde woman staggered back two steps, her martini glass now empty.
Most of the wine was spilled onto Yan Shuang's pale yellow dress.
The icy liquid slid down her clothes, and Yan Shuang instinctively covered her collar.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" The woman leaned closer, her eyes blurry with drunkenness, and the strong scent of perfume mixed with the smell of alcohol hit me.
She was wearing a sequined halter dress and earrings that were as big as two small pendulums. At that moment, she was frantically rummaging through her rhinestone-encrusted handbag.
Yan Shuang was about to wave her hand and say it was okay when the other person pulled out a black velvet dress and shoved it into her hand: "Spare dress! The restroom's over there," she hiccuped, "Sorry, I'll make you ten martinis later!"
Before Yan Shuang could refuse, the woman had already staggered and disappeared at the end of the corridor, leaving behind only a string of silvery laughter.
Yan Shuang locked the cubicle door and looked down at her soaked clothes.
The skirt becomes almost transparent when wet, clinging tightly to the skin.
She bit her lip and unfolded the "spare dress": a deep V-neck, a backless design, and a skirt so short that it probably couldn't even cover her safety shorts.
However, the dress she was wearing was no longer wearable, so Yan Shuang had no choice but to change into the black dress.
The black velvet made her porcelain-white skin almost glow, while the overly daring neckline design revealed her curves below her collarbone.
Yan Shuang tried in vain to pull up the neckline, only to find that there was no possibility of "conservative way" to wear this dress; her full breasts and long legs were still exposed to the cold air.
A deafening cheer erupted from the direction of the stage, and a group of girls dressed even more daringly than her walked by, laughing and joking.
“Relax, baby,” one of the women with red lips winked at her, “you look gorgeous.”
A new dance tune began to play.
Yan Shuang originally planned to go straight back to the private room, but her body seemed to be drawn by the music, moving step by step towards the source of the sound.
She stood at the edge of the crowd, watching the bodies swaying to the music.
Some are as alluring as water snakes, while others are as mechanical as marionettes, yet both are immersed in pure joy.
She swayed gently to the rhythm without realizing it.
When the DJ switched to a remix of "Toxic", Yan Shuang felt a warm sensation suddenly cover her lower back, and was pulled into the center of the dance floor by the crowd.
Yan Shuang staggered for a moment, but the next second, a powerful bass blast traveled through her entire body from the floor, like some kind of primal summons.
She closed her eyes and let the rhythm take over her limbs.
At first, she only swayed slightly, but as the music intensified, her movements gradually became more graceful.
Her neck arched back in a graceful curve, and her fair arms were raised above her head.
At one point, she opened her eyes and, through the flickering light, saw a familiar, tall figure quietly watching her from behind the glass of the VIP room on the second floor.
Shangqiu Zhu stood at the edge of the private room, her phone still pressed to her ear, but her gaze pierced through the swirling smoke and swaying heads, firmly fixed on the black figure in the center of the dance floor.
Yan Shuang's hair was loose, with stray strands sticking to her sweaty neck. Her skirt spun and then gathered, like a night-blooming cereus in full bloom at midnight.
Ethan stood beside him, gesturing excitedly, but Shang Qiuzhu's attention was completely drawn to the figure below.
He tightened his grip on the glass, and the glass made a creaking sound as it succumbed to the weight.
"She's so sexy!" Ethan suddenly leaned in.
"Shut up." Shangqiu Zhu's voice was colder than the ice cube in his hand.
Ethan wisely made a gesture of pulling his mouth shut, but still couldn't help whistling.
A few flippant whistles rang out from the surroundings, and a man with a lip ring even raised his phone towards Yan Shuang.
The sun's rays throbbed in Shangqiu's bamboo grove.
A primal urge surged through his veins; he wanted to rush down and dig out all the eyes of those who had touched her, to wrap her tightly in his suit jacket and carry her back to the car, and to lock her in a glass display case that only he could see.
But the next second, the memory suddenly flashed back to a certain late night.
He took Yan Shuang to the casino. When they returned, she stood at the door of the Yan family home, a lit cigarette between her fingers, her eyes gazing at the distant lights with a blank, soulless look.
She was wearing a champagne-colored gown and her makeup was so exquisite that she looked like a doll, but she was nowhere near as vibrant and lively as she was on the dance floor now.
She should be free.
Yan Shuang suddenly laughed on the dance floor because a female companion was teaching her a Latin dance step.
She studied very hard, her forehead beaded with sweat, and she would stick out her tongue when she failed.
The ice in the whiskey has finally melted completely.
Shangqiu Zhu placed the broken cup on the waiter's tray and returned to the window.
The man with the lip ring raised his phone again.
Shang Qiuzhu took out his phone and dialed a number: "Sector 7, The Varnish, there's a guy wearing a skull T-shirt and a lip ring." He gave the table number, "Make sure the stuff on his phone disappears."
After hanging up the phone, he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt.
The air conditioning seemed to be malfunctioning, and the club was unbearably hot.
Yan Shuang was facing away from the second floor. The backless design of her dress made her slender waist appear and disappear with her dance, as if inviting someone to press their thumb on it.
Shangqiu Zhu's canines unconsciously rubbed against his lower lip.
At this moment, he stood in the shadows, like a dragon guarding a treasure, or a lighthouse trapped on a deserted island.
Silently, contradictorily, he gazed at the starlight he most wanted to possess yet least wanted to imprison.
When the music switched to a slow blues, Yan Shuang finally left the dance floor, panting.
She wiped the fine sweat from her forehead, the lingering vibrations still seeming in her ears.
Sweat trickled down her spine and into the waistband of her velvet dress. She raised her hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks still burning.
She felt her body's existence more clearly than ever before, the stretching of her muscles as she danced, the pounding of her heart, and the unfamiliar excitement that had not yet subsided.
Dancing was such a joyful thing, so joyful that she forgot about time and herself.
"Hello beautiful, may I buy you a drink?"
Three blond boys blocked her way like a human wall.
The woman in the lead was wearing a deep V-neck T-shirt, with some kind of Latin script tattooed on her collarbone, and her perfume was so strong that she took a half step back.
“Sorry, I’m with…” Yan Shuang’s English suddenly faltered, and her gaze drifted over their shoulders, searching for the direction of the private room.
Just then, she felt it, like a piece of ice falling on the back of her neck, that familiar, heavy gaze.
In the shadows of the VIP passage, Shangqiu Zhu is walking step by step.
The laser light swept across his silhouette, and as he drew closer, the surrounding noise seemed to be muted, and even time itself seemed to thicken.
Shangqiu Zhu stopped three steps away from her.
His gaze moved from her smudged eye makeup to her slightly parted lips.
A certain undercurrent was swirling in the air between them, more unsettling than the most intense rhythms on the dance floor.
"come over."
The blond boys turned around in confusion, but froze when they saw who it was. Shang Qiuzhu's gaze made them make way for him without prior arrangement.
Yan Shuang ran towards Shangqiu Zhu.
The moment Shangqiu Zhu opened her arms, she bumped into the long-awaited embrace.
The scent of driftwood and whiskey instantly overwhelmed her, and his palm was pressed against her bare lower back, the heat burning her skin.
Yan Shuang buried her burning face in his chest.
Shangqiu Zhu tightened her arms, blocking out all those malicious gazes.
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