Chapter Two: Giving Her a Title
At No. 19 Garden Road, the milky-white villa was quiet in the rainy night, with only a window on the second floor letting out a warm, yellowish light, like a peering eye in the darkness.
As soon as Ah Chen parked the car, a young maid wearing a light blue short jacket and a white apron came running out to greet him, holding an umbrella and looking obviously anxious.
"Mr. Qiao! You've finally arrived!" The maid's voice was choked with tears. She didn't even bother to straighten her umbrella properly, and rain soaked her temples. "Miss Cheng... she's been crying the whole time. She didn't eat dinner, and she just vomited again. I... I really don't know what to do..."
Qiao Yuan pushed open the car door, his tall figure carrying the scent of wind and rain, and strode straight past the maid into the entrance hall.
The expensive Italian calfskin soles echoed dully as they stepped on the smooth, mirror-like mosaic tiles, leaving a trail of damp water stains.
The living room was lit by a crystal chandelier, the light was a bit dazzling, and the air was filled with a strong, sweet scent of gardenia perfume.
The gramophone was playing "When Will You Return?", a tender and poignant melody that, at this moment, only made one feel restless.
"Where is he?" Qiao Yuan's voice wasn't loud, but it was like an icicle, instantly drowning out the seductive music.
"It's...it's in the bedroom upstairs." The maid flinched and hurriedly pointed to the spiral staircase.
The bedroom door was ajar. Qiao Yuan pushed it open and was immediately hit by a stench of medicine mixed with the sour smell of vomit, even more nauseating than the perfume downstairs. He frowned almost imperceptibly.
The room was exquisitely decorated, with pink lace curtains, a thick wool carpet, and a dressing table piled high with imported cosmetics and perfume bottles, exuding extravagance.
At this moment, Cheng Qing was curled up in the large European-style four-poster bed, wrapped in a light green silk robe, her long black hair disheveled on the pillow, her shoulders heaving violently with sobs. Hearing the door open, she turned her head sharply, her young and charming face streaked with tears, her eyes swollen and red like peaches, carrying a frightened, animalistic vulnerability.
"Master Qiao!" she cried out, her voice thick with sobs, struggling to get out of bed, but her body swayed weakly.
Qiao Yuan rushed forward and pressed her back into the covers before she fell off the bed.
Cheng Qing threw herself into his arms, her icy fingers gripping the front of his suit jacket as if it were the only piece of driftwood, her scalding tears instantly soaking his expensive clothes.
"Alright, alright, why are you crying?" Qiao Yuan gently patted her thin, trembling back a few times. The cloying scent of gardenias mixed with the sour smell of vomit and the strong medicinal odor emanating from her body rushed into his nostrils, making him feel slightly nauseous. He subtly moved away a little, his gaze sweeping over her pale and haggard face. "What's wrong? What's going on now?"
"I...I'm in pain, Master Qiao..." Cheng Qing sobbed, looking at him with teary eyes, tears still clinging to her long eyelashes. "You just keep me like this...Everyone knows I'm your woman, but you don't touch me. But what has Xiao Qing done wrong? I heard...about Madam's matter, if Madam is willing, I can leave an heir for you, Master Qiao." Her voice grew softer and softer, filled with endless grievance and fear, her hand unconsciously covering her still flat stomach.
Qiao Yuan's gaze lingered on her lower abdomen for a moment, his expression complex and unreadable. He sat on the edge of the bed, took the warm towel that the maid tremblingly handed him, and wiped away the tears and cold sweat from her face with less than gentle movements.
"What nonsense are you talking about?" His tone was slightly stiff, but it carried a reassuring quality. "I'm not a scoundrel who takes advantage of a crisis, so don't overthink it."
Cheng Qing nestled in his arm, feeling the warmth of his strong masculine body and the faint scent of tobacco emanating from him. She felt a little more at ease, her sobs gradually subsiding into soft whimpers. She looked up at him, her expression one of utter dependence and vulnerability: "No, Master Qiao, from the moment you saved me, you've been the only one in my heart. I'm doing this willingly, please, Master Qiao, grant my wish!"
Qiao Yuan didn't say anything, but silently tucked the blanket around her.
The gramophone was still playing Zhou Xuan's song, "Good flowers don't bloom forever, good times don't last forever..." The decadent music lingered in the room, making people even more irritable.
Downstairs, Ah Chen listened to the faint sobs and Qiao Yuan's low, comforting words coming from upstairs. His heart felt like it was stuffed with damp cotton, both suffocating and oppressive. He irritably turned on the radio, which was playing Suzhou storytelling. The soft, gentle melody only added to his unease. He turned it off with a "snap," and his gaze involuntarily drifted to the window on the second floor, where a warm yellow light shone through. Two blurry figures were reflected in the curtains, one nestled together, the other seemingly patting him gently in comfort.
He simply couldn't understand: his wife, a woman so gentle on the outside but strong on the inside, had almost lost her life for Master Qiao, enduring countless illnesses without a single complaint. And what about Master Qiao? He ignored such a wonderful wife, instead letting Cheng Qing from Xianle City bewitch him. That Cheng Qing was nothing more than a courtesan who could cry and sing, her tears flowing freely, their sincerity indistinguishable from reality.
He sighed heavily, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the steering wheel; the cold leather couldn't calm his anxiety. Time seemed to stand still in the rain, passing exceptionally slowly.
The light in the upstairs window remained on, shadows flickered, whispers mingled, and occasionally a few suppressed sobs.
Ah Chen's hands and feet were getting numb from waiting. Several times he wanted to get out of the car to get some fresh air, but he was afraid of disturbing those inside.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, footsteps echoed from the stairs; it was Qiao Yuan coming down. Ah.
Chen immediately straightened his back and perked up.
Qiao Yuan walked straight to the car, opened the door, and got in.
"Master, shall we return to the mansion?" Ah Chen asked tentatively through the rearview mirror.
Qiao Yuan leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and seemed to squeeze out a single word from deep within his chest: "Mmm."
Ah Chen quickly started the car.
The black Chevrolet slowly drove away from the small villa and re-entered the wet street.
The car headlights pierced the rain, running over puddles and splashing water everywhere.
Ah Chen drove carefully, glancing at Qiao Yuan in the rearview mirror every now and then.
The man kept his eyes closed, his thin lips pressed tightly together, his jawline taut, and a cigar was now between his fingers. His brows were furrowed, and it was unclear what he was thinking.
Ah Chen was in a state of turmoil. He wanted to advise his eldest brother to treat his wife better and not do anything to betray her, but when the words came to his lips, he didn't know how to say them and could only remain silent the whole way.
The car finally stopped in front of the ornate cast iron gate of the Qiao Mansion.
The rain subsided slightly, leaving only a few scattered drizzles.
The mansion was brightly lit, and the air was filled with a faint, cool plum fragrance that Lin Tang was used to, which made the sweet, cloying scent of cosmetics and the smell of rust on Qiao Yuan's body stand out as particularly jarring.
He took off his trench coat and tossed it to Zhang Ma, who was coming to greet him, his gaze unconsciously drifting towards the second floor. In the soft glow of the corridor lights, a slender figure stood quietly at the corner of the stairs.
It's Lin Tang.
Qiao Yuan followed her gaze, his brows furrowing even more.
That photograph is an old, unhealed scar in her heart, and also an invisible, bottomless chasm between them.
He took a few steps up the stairs and stopped a step behind Lin Tang. The heavy smell of tobacco and blood instantly enveloped her.
Lin Tang seemed to sense something, her body stiffened almost imperceptibly, but she did not turn around.
"What are you thinking about?" Qiao Yuan's voice was deep.
Lin Tang slowly turned around, her face still pale and calm, but her gaze fell on his gloomy face with a hint of anger.
Qiao Yuan was even more stung by her gaze. He took a step forward, his tall figure almost completely enveloping her in shadow. With a ruthless, desperate air, he tore away the unspoken veil of pretense between them: "What? Do you think I'm vulgar? Do you think my hands are covered in blood and I'm not worthy of your aloofness?"
Lin Tang frowned.
"Or are you still thinking about that person even now? Waiting for him to come back for you?"
Lin Tang screamed like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, "You bastard, you're talking nonsense!"
Qiao Yuan's lips curled into a cold smile. "That's perfect! Let me tell you, I've been keeping a mistress on the side! Cheng Qing from Xianledu, she's perfectly innocent! I'll bring her into the manor tomorrow and give her a proper status!"
He stared intently into Lin Tang's eyes, his chest heaving like a prisoner awaiting judgment yet yearning for destruction, anticipating the shattering of her mask, anticipating even the slightest hint of shock, pain, or anger in her eyes.
However, Lin Tang simply listened quietly, her thick, long eyelashes casting a small shadow beneath her eyelids, concealing any possible emotions. After a brief silence, she raised her eyes, her gaze sweeping over his face, slightly contorted with anger, finally settling on his tense shoulders. Her voice was as gentle as the thin mist of early winter, utterly devoid of emotion:
“Qiao Yuan,” she called his name softly, with a calm that was almost compassionate, “you know my body. Three years ago, the doctor said I might not be able to get pregnant again. Over the years… I haven’t been able to give you a child. I was actually… thinking of persuading you to take a concubine so that the Qiao family could continue its lineage.”
She paused, her gaze calmly meeting his astonished look, as if she were stating something unrelated to herself.
"If that's the case, then so be it."
Qiao Yuan never expected her to say such a thing. Shocked, he could only feel sorrow on his face. "Fine, fine, since you're so generous, it would be a shame not to welcome her in!"
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