Zheng Wanqing's smile froze on her face, and a feeling of doubt and uneasiness surged in her heart. She blurted out: "What do you mean, Marshal Xie?"
Zheng Yuheng, who was standing by, saw that the situation was not good, and hurried to smooth things over. He said with a smile on his face, "Mom, Wanqing just came here and she is exhausted from the journey. It's not too late to talk about these things later. Let her rest first. She has been through enough trouble along the way."
Zheng Wanqing cast a slightly puzzled glance at her brother Zheng Yuheng, but she had actually already guessed what was going on.
Ye Qiulan came to his senses and realized that he was a little impatient. He forced a smile and said, "Yes, yes, come in first. Aunt Liu made your favorite rock sugar lotus seed soup and chilled it early, just waiting for you to come and satisfy your craving."
After a while, Aunt Liu came in with small steps, carrying a green porcelain bowl. The bottom of the bowl hit the porcelain tray, making a slight trembling sound.
"Come, come, Miss, your favorite is the rock sugar lotus seed soup." Aunt Liu said with a smile, that smile was like the warm sun in the winter, warm and kind. Her hands, covered with calluses, were as steady as a scale, and the years had left deep marks on her hands.
Zheng Wanqing took the celadon bowl and took a sip. The sweetness slowly melted on the tip of her tongue, as if all the fatigue had dissipated at this moment. However, the slight bitterness of the lotus core quietly climbed up the root of her tongue, adding a different taste to the sweetness.
"Mrs. Liu's cooking skills have improved again," Zheng Wanqing smiled, her mouth stained with sugar and her eyes curved into crescents, "I dreamed of eating this in Marseille."
Aunt Liu wiped her hands with her apron, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes turned into thin waves, and she said, "Miss, your mouth is still as sweet as when you were a child. As long as you like it, Aunt Liu will make it for you every day in the future."
Ye Qiulan reached out to wipe the sugar stains from her daughter's lips, her movements gentle and loving, and said, "Go change your clothes first." The mother's fingertips lingered on the collar of her linen suit for a moment, her eyes revealing a hint of helplessness and persistence, "Your father doesn't like you wearing a dress."
The dining room is brightly lit, as bright as day. The gorgeous crystal chandelier casts soft and bright light, illuminating the entire space in every detail.
At the long table, Zheng Wanqing's mother Ye Qiulan, brother Zheng Yuheng, and several concubines sat on both sides. However, the mahogany chair of the first head of the family was still empty, exuding an invisible majesty and waiting.
Zheng Wanqing was wearing a jade-colored cheongsam, the fine silk gleaming with a cool sheen under the chandelier. She sat quietly, her fingertips resting lightly on the edge of the table, her nails trimmed to be round and clean.
This was a habit she developed in France, and she no longer wore pointed armor like the ladies from Tianjin.
At 7:15, footsteps broke the slightly dull silence in the dining room. Zheng Shaoqi walked in with steady steps, carrying a strong smell of cigar, which quickly spread in the air.
"The Chamber of Commerce is temporarily hosting a Japanese consultant." As he spoke, he unbuttoned his suit and handed his coat to the butler waiting beside him. When he raised his wrist slightly, the precious gold watch chain drew a dazzling arc of light on his vest, briefly attracting everyone's attention.
Seeing this, the sharp-eyed Third Concubine immediately stood up lightly, with a flattering smile on her face, and diligently pulled out a chair for him. Zheng Shaoqi nodded and then sat down steadily.
His eyes inadvertently swept over Zheng Wanqing's bob haircut, and his peaceful brows instantly twisted into a "川" shape, and a trace of obvious displeasure flashed in his eyes. When his eyes met Zheng Wanqing's, his stern expression suddenly softened, and he asked softly: "France...Are you used to it?"
"Father, my daughter is living well in France." Zheng Wanqing responded with a dignified manner and a clear yet steady voice.
At this time, the butler held a bottle of expensive tortoise shellfish in both hands, walked forward with respectful and slow steps, and carefully poured a glass for Zheng Shaoqi.
After Zheng Shaoqi took the wine glass, he gently turned it, and the amber wine in the glass rippled, reflecting his slightly swollen eye bags due to long-term overwork, and his bloodshot eyes.
The years have carved deep marks on his face. His temples are already gray, and the wrinkles on his face are crisscrossed like ravines. Each line seems to tell of the vicissitudes of life he has experienced in the business world.
He slowly swept his eyes over the crowd, and said in a steady but tired voice: "Let's eat. Wanqing, stay after you finish eating. I have something to discuss with you."
At the dining table, although the warm light from the crystal chandelier gently illuminated the exquisite tableware and delicious dishes, the surroundings seemed to be shrouded in an invisible tranquility.
Everyone ate their meals cautiously; only the subtle sounds of spoons touching porcelain bowls and forks sliding across plates broke the silence intermittently. Each sound seemed to be infinitely amplified in the empty space, echoing in everyone's ears.
After a while, people pushed their chairs gently, stood up slowly, nodded, and left quietly.
Only Zheng Shaoqi, and the siblings Zheng Yuheng and Zheng Wanqing were left at the huge dining table.
Zheng Shaoqi put down the cutlery in his hand and glanced at Zheng Yuheng inadvertently. Only then did he notice that Zheng Yuheng had no intention of getting up and leaving.
"Yuheng, you go down too." His tone was filled with unquestionable majesty. Although his voice was not loud, it was like a life-threatening order, making it irresistible.
Zheng Yuheng heard this, a hint of hesitation flashed across his face, but he finally stood up slowly, his chair dragging on the carpet with a dull thumping sound. He passed by his sister, and briefly pressed his hand on her shoulder, as if silently comforting her, or as if conveying some kind of encouragement, before turning around and leaving.
Zheng Shaoqi's golden pocket watch made a regular "click" sound in the silence, like some kind of silent countdown.
He took out a cigarette case from his vest pocket and slowly tapped out a cigar, his movements were slow but revealing a habitual and skilled manner. After lighting the cigar, he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled a puff of smoke. The gray smoke ring slowly rose between the two of them, blurring their vision.
"Xie Yun," he finally broke the silence, his voice sounding a little ethereal in the smoke, "I am five years older than you, twenty-six years old, and the best in the sixth cavalry class of Baoding. Last month, he was a single-handed sentry in Langfang, and Marshal Liu personally awarded him a fast horse and silver spear."
Zheng Wanqing lowered her eyes and looked at her own grim expression reflected in the silver cutlery, feeling mixed emotions.
She suddenly raised her eyes and looked at her father, with a complex emotion in her tone that was difficult to conceal, and said: "Father, your daughter gave me such a big gift as soon as she came home?"
"On the third of last month," Zheng Shaoqi suddenly pointed his cigar at the ceiling, with ash falling down, "the cotton yarn batch of Li Anyang was detained in Tanggu."
The housekeeper handed over an English newspaper at the right time. Zheng Shaoqi took it and pushed it in front of his daughter.
The front-page photo of the newspaper showed Japanese warships unloading cargo at Qingdao Port. The huge ship and the fluttering Japanese flag stung Zheng Wanqing's eyes.
"I spent a full 60,000 dollars to smooth the relationship." Zheng Shaoqi's voice was filled with fatigue and helplessness. He sighed slightly, his eyes full of vicissitudes and forbearance. "Now the Japanese army is becoming more and more rampant. Cooperating with Xie Yun may make us less passive."
Zheng Wanqing's eyes were suddenly attracted by her father's right hand. There was a missing part of his little finger on his right hand. It was cut off by a soldier ten years ago when her father was negotiating with the Germans.
Zheng Shaoqi raised his eyes, his gaze slowly penetrated the swirling smoke, stared at his daughter closely, and said slowly: "If you have thought it through, tell me.
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