Summer 1920.
Tianjin in late October was like an airtight steamer, so hot that it was hard to breathe. The cobblestone road at the French Concession dock was scorched by the scorching sun, and the sprinkler truck drove slowly by, its wheels rolling over the ground, and the steam rising up, wrapped in the salty and astringent smell of the sea, hit us in the face like a tide, making us even more annoyed.
In the distance, a French cruise ship was slowly approaching the dock, its hull cutting through the azure sea, leaving behind a series of dark blue waves. As the cruise ship gradually approached, the dull whistle suddenly sounded, cutting through the stagnant air and echoing over the harbor for a long time.
Zheng Wanqing stood on the deck, the sea breeze gently blowing her hair. She looked at her watch, the hour hand pointed to three o'clock in the afternoon.
The cruise ship docked at the French Concession Pier in Tianjin three days later than expected.
"Wanqing!" A familiar and friendly voice came from the dock.
She looked up at the sound and saw her brother Zheng Yuheng standing in the front row of the pier. He was wearing a neatly tailored black suit, and the straight lines made him look even taller. His sleek slicked-back hair glowed like ebony in the scorching sun, making him look particularly energetic.
There was a Chevrolet parked behind him, its paint so shiny that it could reflect a person's shadow.
Zheng Wanqing's eyes lit up instantly, and a bright smile bloomed on her face. She smiled and waved her hand vigorously, holding the suitcase tightly in her right hand, and rushed down the gangway in two steps at a time. The black ribbon on the straw hat was blown by the sea breeze and fluttered in the air.
"Brother!" Her voice was clear and pleasant, full of joy of reunion.
Zheng Yuheng opened his warm and strong arms and steadily caught his sister who was running towards him. The familiar smell of cologne mixed with the scent of cigar wafted towards him.
He took the suitcase from Zheng Wanqing and handed it to the driver waiting on the side.
Suddenly, the moment Zheng Wanqing turned around, she let out a "tsk".
"Our Miss Zheng's outfit," he deliberately drew out his voice, with a teasing smile on his face, and tapped her bob with his finger, "I'm afraid it will make all the young men in Tianjin dizzy."
Zheng Wanqing turned around playfully, and the hem of her beige linen suit drew a smooth and graceful arc.
She tilted her head and looked at her brother in front of her, sizing him up with curved eyebrows and eyes full of agility and playfulness: "Brother, this outfit is not bad either. It seems that you went to the tailor street a lot when I was young."
"Then of course," Zheng Yuheng smiled dotingly and opened the car door for her, "You can't lose face as the eldest daughter of the Zheng family. After all, the people chasing you can line up from Astoria to the Seine."
Zheng Wanqing blushed slightly and said softly, "Brother always likes to tease me." As she said that, she got into the car.
The velvet seat was so hot from being exposed to the scorching sun that she couldn't help but let out a soft hiss.
She quickly rolled down the car window, and hot and humid air rushed in. Although it was stuffy, it also slightly relieved the high temperature of the seat.
Zheng Yuheng sat down next to her and asked with concern, "How was your trip?"
"It's not bad. You know," Zheng Wanqing wrinkled her nose slightly, "the food abroad is really far inferior to ours."
"From this perspective, you have lost a lot of weight," Zheng Yuheng looked at her distressedly, "When I came home last year, you were still a round, pink dumpling."
When she heard this, she glanced at her brother speechlessly and pretended to be angry and said, "Brother, you are talking nonsense. I, your sister, have always had a slim figure, not like what you said." As she said this, she deliberately puffed out her chest, looking angry.
Seeing how cute she was, Zheng Yuheng couldn't help but laugh, then he shut up tactfully and stopped teasing her.
"It's so hot," Zheng Wanqing fanned herself gently with her handkerchief, "Summer in Tianjin is much more uncomfortable than in Marseille."
"Be patient, go back and ask Aunt Liu to give you a bowl of ice." Zheng Yuheng was busy fanning the young lady with both hands. "The water level drop delayed us for three days? Father almost sent a telegram to the Consulate in Marseille."
"During the dry season, over at the Suez Canal..." She stopped talking suddenly.
As the car slowly drove into the Japanese Concession, a burst of shrill and vulgar laughter suddenly came.
I saw three ronin slumped in a rickshaw, their feet were raised high in wooden clogs, the collars of their kimonos were open, revealing the yellowed lining inside, and they looked extremely slovenly. One of them was swinging an empty wine bottle with the tip of a knife, and when he saw the car passing by, he suddenly grinned, revealing his dazzling gold-studded canine teeth.
"A Chinese lady?" He deliberately asked in a loud voice, and then his companions burst into laughter, which was full of contempt and ill intentions.
Zheng Yuheng followed her gaze and rolled up the car window with an expressionless face to block out the disgusting sound.
The heavy iron door of Zheng's residence slowly opened, making a low, long creaking sound.
Zheng Wanqing's mother, Ye Qiulan, had been standing on the steps waiting for a long time. The sun shone on her mother, outlining her familiar and warm outline. A few strands of silver were faintly visible in her hair, gleaming softly in the sun.
Zheng Wanqing jumped out of the car impatiently, and like a bird returning to its nest, she threw herself into Ye Qiulan's arms and called affectionately, "Mother!"
The familiar sandalwood scent from Ye Qiulan lingered around her nose. In an instant, a long-lost sense of intimacy surged into her heart, making her nose suddenly sore and her eyes slightly red.
"Why have you lost so much weight?" Ye Qiulan held her daughter's face with both hands. Her eyes were full of concern and care, and her tone unconsciously carried a hint of anger. "Don't the French give us food?"
"That's right." Zheng Yuheng followed his mother and nodded in agreement. As he spoke, he stretched out his hand as usual and pinched Zheng Wanqing's cheek, pretending to be regretful and said, "Oh, there is not much meat left, it's not satisfying to pinch it."
When Zheng Wanqing heard this, she frowned slightly and was about to open her mouth to refute when she was interrupted by Ye Qiulan's voice.
"This hair..." Ye Qiulan's eyes fell on his daughter's playful short hair. His expression froze and his voice unconsciously sank a few notes. "Only foreigners have this kind of hairstyle. Let Aunt Liu re-cut it for you tomorrow. Young Marshal Xie's family values rules the most."
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