Chapter 59: Getting a Wife Like This
Meng Weishen had no interest in prying into other people's privacy, and the two parties rarely mentioned their past grievances. From their few words, he could barely piece together a story:
Zhuge comes from a remote, mountainous region in southwestern China, where the province's GDP ranks last. Wenhui, on the other hand, comes from a family of scholars and grew up in Tsinghua University. These two were never meant to be from the same world, but thanks to the 1950s reforms in the college entrance examination, Zhuge boarded a green train bound for the imperial capital for the first time, becoming classmates with Wenhui.
According to Old Zhuge, he had a thick dialect accent at the time, so he pretended to be mute to avoid causing trouble for his classmates. Wen Hui, however, was elected publicity committee member and was in charge of rehearsing a play for the school's 80th anniversary. Noticing that he struggled to speak in public, she pleaded with him to practice Mandarin all day. The two fell in love.
On the eve of graduation, Zhuge's grandfather fell seriously ill. His parents traveled to the capital, urging the couple to marry quickly, claiming to fulfill the old man's wish. However, Wenhui wanted to continue her studies and wasn't ready for marriage or children. The two regretfully parted ways.
Old Zhuge claimed he was forced into a desperate situation, ultimately marrying a woman from his hometown through a blind date. Naturally, their relationship wasn't harmonious. A few years ago, his wife accompanied their daughter abroad for high school, and the couple had been living apart for a long time. They finalized their divorce last year. He also heard that Wenhui, who had completed a master's and doctoral degree and returned to her alma mater to teach, remained unmarried. Feeling guilty, he began to consider rekindling their relationship.
As for how true or false Zhuge's self-proclaimed love was, and why Wen Hui chose to remain single, Meng Weishen had no interest in exploring. He just wanted to successfully complete his matchmaking mission.
When he arrived at the gold shop designated by Mr. Zhuge, his first reaction was: the old man’s ex-wife must have divorced him because he was too stingy.
Mr. Zhuge's rating in his company is at least P11. With his income level, the jewelry he'd give him should be Bulgari at the very least, so why would he be spending money at a fake gold shop?
The mall before him must have been built in the early 21st century. It clearly occupied a prosperous area near the Second Ring Road, but the walls had a half-worn, gray, and run-down feel, like fingernails that have been doing manual labor for years, their cracks always harboring grime. At first glance, Meng Weishen thought he had traveled back to his hometown from the imperial capital.
The foul smell made Qin Shi Huang extremely agitated. The puppy crouched at his feet, growling and growling.
Meng Weishen tightened his dog's leash and entered the mall through a side door. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered half-dead. He looked up and saw that the storefronts on floors two through six were all draped in heavy chains, a scene of doom. The basement below him was unusually prosperous, crammed with cramped takeout shops with no designated dining area. Blue and yellow delivery drivers hurried past.
As his manager had said, someone was waiting for him by the escalator. The student-looking boy was enjoying his game until Qin Shi Huang started barking. Then he quickly raised his hand and smiled innocently at Meng Weishen.
Following the boy's instructions, Meng Weishen arrived at the basement level, where he found a gold shop nestled between a fried chicken restaurant and a braised pork restaurant. A single, chubby, middle-aged woman sat at the gold jewelry counter, streaming her products live on her phone, a pigmented pill in her mouth.
The air was thick with the aroma of spicy hot pot. Meng Weishen held his breath and said, "I'm here to pick up Mr. Zhuge's custom order. I think there's still a balance of 30,000 yuan to pay, and I'll pay it now."
The boy leading the way called out, "Mom," and the woman finally, slowly, stood up, not wanting to turn off the video. She wiped her hands on the edge of her dress, pulled a gold bracelet from the display case, stuffed it into a black box, then put it in a black paper bag, and, as if packing it up, tossed it to him.
Meng Weishen picked up the light paper bag, feeling increasingly uneasy. "Is this real gold? It can't be fake?"
The woman looked at him and shouted, "What's your relationship with Zhuge? Who asked you to come? Why are you here if you can't even tell whether it's true or not?"
"This kind of jewelry should have a precious metal appraisal certificate. Give it to me as well."
"Can you read? Did you see the notice? If it's fake, return it. I'll pay you ten times the price!"
The woman leaned out half of her body and pointed at the A4 notice posted outside the store.
...Forget it, after all, he wasn't the one who lost money by buying fake goods, and he wasn't the one who got embarrassed by giving gifts. Meng Weishen didn't want to stay a moment longer, and dragged the dog towards the escalator.
The next stop was the restaurant Zhuge had chosen. This old man had a strange sense of spending; he wouldn't give real gold as a gift, yet his restaurant choices were quite stylish. Just as Meng Weishen touched the threshold of the restaurant, he was greeted by an abstract ink painting, presumably depicting what he had seen and heard after eating mushrooms.
The waiter introduced it in a gentle voice: "This painting is an authentic work by Mr. Zao Wou-Ki."
Meng Weishen summoned his lifetime of artistic understanding: "Authentic, I mean it's drawn by him personally, not a computer printout or an imitation, right? ...By the way, where should I tie my dog?"
Meng Weishen saw the lonely puppy Ciba in the pet storage area. The two puppies' meeting was like a thousand other things in the world.
Meng Weishen went upstairs alone to find a private room. From the outside, he noticed the restaurant's decor was uniform and restrained. The framed abstract paintings were vibrant, while the walls were painted a minimalist white, never stealing the show.
He handed the paper bag to Mr. Zhuge. Surprisingly, he seemed completely unaware of this. After a moment's pause, he lowered his voice and asked, "What is this? Who told you to bring it up here?"
Meng Weishen said frankly: "I'm the manager."
The old man rarely showed a serious expression, but he didn't want to get angry on the spot: "Next time if you have something, remember to give it to my driver, don't give it directly to me. That's it for today, you can go."
Meng Weishen felt relieved and immediately ran away, but Professor Wen would not let him escape: "Weishen, since you are here, stay and eat with us."
Amid the wonderful expressions of the two parties involved, Meng Weishen sat down with gritted teeth and gnawed on the appetizer bread that was as hard as stone.
An abstract painting also hung in the private room. Mr. Zhuge naturally took the opportunity to perform a peacock-spreading performance: "Wenhui, look, this is an authentic work by Wang Yigang. We've seen it before at the National Art Museum of China. I praised his creative vision, blending Abstract Expressionism with Zen Buddhism, breaking the boundaries between painting and abstract art. His artistic expression is like a relentless adventure, filled with heroic emotion and unfettered action. We in the internet industry are like this too. I treat every business innovation as a passionate adventure."
"I don't understand. I don't like abstract art." Professor Wen took a sip of the white wine that went with the meal and asked Meng Weishen, "Wei Shen, what do you think?"
Meng Wei swallowed his pre-meal bread deeply. "Well, this is what my dog's crunch mat looks like after it's chewed. It's a pretty lifelike painting, right?"
The old man looked like he was going to throw the painting at him, but Professor Wen was laughing so hard that the other man had to put on a smile and compliment him on his unique artistic insights.
Wen Hui continued to ask Zhuge, "Zhuge, you and Wei Shen seem to be quite familiar with each other. How is it, my student usually performs well in the company, right?"
Unfortunately, there were countless OA approval processes between Mr. Zhuge and Meng Weishen, and there was no business dealings between them at all. Mr. Zhuge hesitated for a long time before saying stiffly:
"Wesley, Wesley is really good at badminton. Being good at badminton means he's got energy and determination. He's bound to achieve great things in the future."
"That's it. People come to your company to create value, and you just want them to play badminton with you? You're treating your subordinates like slaves."
"No, no, his professional ability is definitely up to par. I fully trust the educational strength of my alma mater..."
Although Meng Weishen was a talented athlete prone to awkwardness, he had never encountered such an awkward situation in his life. He wished he could take down the painting and hang himself up instead, so he could remain silent forever.
He was already aware of his mortality, figuring he would receive his graduation certificate tomorrow because his left foot had stepped into the company first. Then the waiter arrived to serve his final meal, a plate of marinated raw beef and a dish of snow crab jelly.
The waiter's eyes darted between the three of them, and a shocking misunderstanding arose. He repeatedly complimented the old man, "Oh, this gentleman must be your son, right? Mr. Zhuge, you and your wife are so lucky! Your son looks just like you, practically sculpted from the same mold!"
...Meng Weishen felt that Mr. Zhuge should just fire him directly instead of torturing him like this.
He honestly had no idea how he resembled a walnut. His biological father, while not quite anthropomorphic in his behavior, still had a rather deceptive appearance, clearly a figure of Goddess Nuwa who had invested a great deal of effort in him. As for Mr. Zhuge, he was simply a random imaginary creation of Goddess Nuwa.
However, the old man was very pleased with this extremely fake flattery. His expression turned from gloomy to cheerful. Immersed in the role-playing of the family of three, he ordered, "He came at the last minute. The dishes I ordered before are not enough. Can you recommend a few more main courses?"
——
This ordeal left Meng Weishen more exhausted than if he had worked overtime for a month straight. He had wanted to go home and fall asleep, but today's drama seemed to have no end in sight.
Meng Weishen took off his T-shirt and went to the bathroom, but was surprised to find Jiang Ranxu washing his commuter backpack by hand.
Yes, hand wash.
Meng Weishen was confused and panicked, and suddenly he regained some consciousness. A thin layer of sweat broke out on his back again, quickly drying in the air-conditioning, leaving behind a slight chill.
"Just throw it in the washing machine. You have to pour half a bottle of disinfectant into everything you wash anyway, so there won't be any bacteria left." Meng Weishen turned off the faucet without authorization, trying hard to stop the other person from washing. "If you really can't stand it, then tell him to wash it myself. ...Anyway, you don't have to help me. I'm not disabled."
Jiang Ranxu gently wiped off the water stains on his face. "It's okay, it will be washed soon. Where's your T-shirt? Do you want to wash it?"
"Don't worry about it, go to sleep."
Meng Weishen grabbed the wet backpack and threw it into the washing machine along with his set of clothes. He filled it with disinfectant and laundry detergent and turned it on.
Jiang Ranxu seemed to calm down and followed his instructions to go into the bedroom first.
After he showered and hung up his clothes, he finally slept in his bed. But Jiang Ranxu leaned in again, his cool chest pressing against his back.
"Do you want it? I'll make you feel good."
Meng Wei was extremely sleepy and mumbled, "No, I'm so sleepy."
Jiang Ranxu froze behind him, seemingly at a loss. Meng Weishen was nearly falling into a deep sleep. In the midst of this confusion, he suddenly realized that he had appeared too cold. He quickly turned around and touched the other man's arm soothingly.
Jiang Ranxu spoke in the darkness: "I'm sorry."
"What?"
"A few days ago, I was trying to help you wash your backpack when I discovered the recorder in it. I didn't mean to invade your privacy. You can talk to your lawyer about anything, even about your divorce."
Meng Weishen felt bored and sleepy again, "Oh, it's just for this little thing. It doesn't matter."
"You forgive me?"
"When did I ever blame you? If you hadn't told me, I would have forgotten it."
Jiang Ranxu refused to let him sleep and even sat up again. He heard the sound of the bedside table drawer opening and closing.
Jiang Ranxu gently stroked his face: "By the way, I also prepared an apology gift for you. You must want it very much, don't you want to take a look?"
So, on this embarrassing night, Meng Weishen received a Hermès dog leash.
Meng Weishen felt like his head was about to explode. He didn't know how to explain to Jiang Ranxu that he had indeed been intensively searching for Hermès dog products recently, but he planned to give them to Professor Wen, not for himself.
With his extraordinary emotional intelligence, Meng Weishen knew that he should pretend to be surprised by the gift prepared by his lover, no matter what it was. He managed to hold on a little and responded positively:
"Great, how did you know I wanted this? Not only did you go through my bag, but you also looked through my phone browsing history?"
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