Chapter 7
On the way home, Chen Huan took over the driving, and Emma sat in the passenger seat. Emma had just drunk two Bloody Marys and was leaning her head against the half-rolled window to enjoy the breeze.
Shen Huan wondered if all officers would speak to those around them in a commanding tone. Perhaps the training at the military academy and life in the army had made giving blunt orders an instinct for Meng Zixian, but Shen Huan rarely saw Henry speak to Emma so unkindly.
Their car passed a gray and yellow gas station, a paint shop, and a delicatessen. Fayette, a city clad in military uniforms, was at the forefront of combat readiness. The soldiers on the bases they passed wore their uniformed physical training uniforms: dark T-shirts and black shorts. A woman pushing a stroller outside a Starbucks wore a T-shirt emblazoned with "Proud Army Wife."
Of course, Emma was Henry's wife; the situation was incomparable. Shen Huan reached out and rubbed her nose to remind herself, the base of her right hand red from the rubbing. Besides, she had only known Emma for two months and had only seen the Schumers together twice.
Henry's E Company returned to Fort Benny two weeks ago. Six months prior to that, he and Meng Zixian had been deployed to the Middle East. The specific country was a secret that couldn't be discussed. Emma always raised a finger when she mentioned it. But Shen Huan could make a rough guess. After 9/11, the US military's deployment in the Middle East and Central and South Asia had always dominated the headlines in Republican state news.
"How do you feel, sweetheart?" Emma asked suddenly.
Shen Huan came to her senses, thinking Emma had fallen asleep. She turned her head and saw Emma looking at her with a smile, her left eye blinking in a mischievous look. Shen Huan knew what she was asking.
Shen Huan organized her words. “He’s intense,” she said.
"That's right!" Emma laughed, and her laughter relaxed Shen Huan's previously tense shoulders.
Emma said, "Don't worry, honey. You'll get used to him." Chen Huan asked what they meant by "get used to him." "Become friends or lovers? Won't they be gone in a month?" Emma said, "E Company will only be at the base for six weeks."
This made Emma's smile froze. "That's right," she repeated, with a hint of sadness in her smile.
Emma stopped talking, and Chen Huan started complaining about the earmuffs not working well.
Emma's reply was mixed with the sound of the wind. "It's not the sound of gunfire that you hear with your ears, sweetheart. It's the vibration that you feel with your body."
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Li Ting hung up the phone in a bad mood. Shen Huan understood her husband's suspicion, as she had never told Li Ting about that past.
She would never talk about the revolver in Meng Zixian's hand, Emma and Henry Schumer, or the other people in the 182nd Infantry Regiment. Li Ting only knew that Shen Huan went to North Carolina as an exchange student in his junior year, and later transferred there, getting both undergraduate and graduate degrees.
In Li Ting's opinion, the fact that Shen Huan had touched a gun was already quite unorthodox.
Inwardly, Chen Huan complained to Barry Fletcher about how he was such a troublemaker. He'd been so quick to talk back then, and now, more than a decade later, he was digging up old stories again. She guessed it was because Xi Yuhui had mentioned Meng Zixian's name to establish a relationship, and that Chen Huan and Meng Zixian had been close during Fletcher's time as a reporter at Benny Fort.
The call ended so quickly that Chen Huan didn't have time to ask Li Ting a few things. For example, whether he should attend the opening ceremony of the Yixiang Fund, and how the fund's budget for next year would be cut. The parent company was short on funds, and they had to economize on everything.
Chen Huan stayed up until the evening and called Li Ting again, but he didn't answer. Instead, Lou Hetai called and told him to ask his subordinates to attend the university symposium at 6 pm tomorrow instead. He and Li Ting were going to Linpai Club to treat everyone to dinner.
Shen Huan was stunned. Li Ting had previously said he would return to Hancheng next week. She wondered if he had changed his schedule without telling her, or if he had been hiding something from her. She didn't ask Lou Hetai directly, but agreed and hung up.
After what happened with Yao Li, Chen Huan's suspicions were like Pavlov's dog, and he couldn't sleep well at night tossing and turning.
It was five in the morning, the bedroom shrouded in darkness by blackout curtains. She reached for her phone from the bedside, the dim blue screen illuminating her face. She saw a Bloomberg news feed: [Former U.S. Army Major Meng Zixian released after prosecutors from both countries negotiated a reduced sentence.]
She had set up the keyword "Miles Meng" in the Bloomberg app a long time ago and had never deleted it. Her finger continued to swipe downwards.
"Meng Zixian is expected to return to Washington, D.C., later this month to lead Trident Capital's acquisition of General Atlantic, according to people familiar with the matter."
After turning off the screen, Chen Huan didn't turn on the bedside lamp and stepped barefoot into the carpet. It would be best if Meng Zixian left Hancheng.
In the afternoon, Li Ting informed Chen Huan to go to Linpai Club. Li Ting did not explain why the schedule was changed, and Chen Huan did not ask.
Coming out of the parking lot south of the clubhouse, she ran into Wan Lin, who took credit for it by saying that he had gone to great lengths to get an appointment with Mr. Wu from Chenyue Group, and that Li Ting had to change her flight at the last minute.
Shen Huan felt a little relieved. Li Ting hadn't lied to her yesterday. Even if she had to turn a blind eye, she could still live a good life.
Chen Huan didn't know what the Chenyue Group did, or who Mr. Wu was, but from what Wan Lin said, Mr. Wu had some say in the local bank.
There was only one woman at the table. Li Ting didn't introduce her when they shook hands; it wasn't his habit, or perhaps he was deliberately leaving her alone. The other CEOs were polite at first, but then, drunken and excited, they toasted her and joked with her without paying any attention.
Chen Huan could drink a bit, and she knew the occasion was important, so she drank whenever someone offered her a toast, red or white. When she was still a director, Li Ting, seeing how quiet she was and how much she could drink, would bring her out from time to time. She drank without getting drunk or mad, and after the meal, he even arranged for the host and guests to board the car.
But after getting married, Li Ting rarely took Chen Huan out.
Over a dozen dishes arrived. Chen Huan helped her husband pick up some food and refilled his tea. He didn't even glance at her, as if trying to avoid appearing intimate. After the guests across from her ladled out their water shield soup, she scooped a bowl for Li Ting and handed it to him. Li Ting then passed it to Wan Lin, who was standing beside him, and gestured, "Come on, come on, you go first." Wan Lin's appointment with Mr. Wu from Chenyue was halfway done, and he deserved the credit.
Wan Lin glanced between the two of them in surprise, then half stood up, took the bowl and the spoon, and said, "Sister-in-law, let me do it." Boss Wu, who was sitting opposite him, slapped his thigh and said, "Oh, it's the wife. She's so young and beautiful."
Li Ting seemed not to hear, and he bent over to toast others with one cup after another. His hand holding the cup looked a little dry and yellow. His face was swollen like pig liver from drinking so much, and his capillaries were purple. He kept talking about the picture that would be integrated next.
Mr. Wu didn't respond, instead launching into a discussion about blockchain. Lou Hetai and Wan Lin praised him, but he grew louder as he spoke, handing out business cards to everyone present. The card listed a small, obscure company whose chairman was Mr. Wu's sister-in-law. If interested, he could bring in investment, with a minimum investment of 500,000 yuan.
At this point, Mr. Wu's true intentions were fully revealed. Li Ting and Wan Lin exchanged a look, their bloodshot eyes filled with despair and amusement. They wanted to use Mr. Wu's connections with local banks, but Mr. Wu made a clear statement: You'll have to invest your own money to flatter my sister-in-law.
They were drunk and staggering, but Chen Huan sat at the table with her back straight. Perhaps it was the alcohol that had triggered some nerve damage, but she felt something rubbing against her right leg under the table, a cold metallic sensation creeping up from the outside of her calf up her thigh.
After a few times, she lowered her head to look at the general manager Chen Yue, whose name was Lu Ye and who was sitting on her right and was taciturn, picking up dishes with a serious look on his face, but with his left hand he was using a silver fork under the table to hook her stockings, which had already been torn.
Chen Huan couldn't lose her temper and embarrass both sides, so she could only stand up and straighten her skirt. When she saw the man surnamed Lu put his fork away, she sat down again.
The waiter came and brought some fruit, with a small plate of fruit in front of each person.
Li Ting was chatting with Mr. Wu, smiling, and already proudly mentioning his sons. Mr. Wu said his son was a sophomore in high school and would be attending Harvard next year. Lou Hetai asked if Harvard had released the results so early. Mr. Wu waved his hand and said the admissions officer had already taken care of it. Shen Huan didn't know if this was true or not.
But a moment later, the fork on her right was poking her thigh again, teasing her like a snake's tongue, arousing her again. Chen Huan reached down, grasping one end of the fork and refusing to let go. Lu turned silently to look at her, a look of surprise on her face. Chen Huan tugged at the fork, her palm clenched so tightly that the tips of the tines dug into her palm. The other man stared at her for a moment longer, then, seeing her exertion, perhaps growing bored, and finally let go.
Chen Huan imagined sticking the fork into his thigh, or at worst into the juicy watermelon in front of him, splashing the bright red flesh all over his face.
She put her fork back on the table. Li Ting finally got to the point of talking about Ronghui with Mr. Wu, both of them already drunk to the point of slurring their words.
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