Chapter 6
Li Ting and Xi Yuhui were going to the United States to meet with creditors. In the past, when he went abroad to solicit investment, Chen Huan had never gone with him. Their schedules were full, and there was no one to bring their families.
But this time Shen Huan wanted to go with him. She didn't know why she was reluctant to leave Li Ting.
She had never asked for this before, and Li Ting was a bit surprised. Of course, he refused, annoyed. He said, "I gave you the financial consulting job, and now you're just walking away from it." "You have to be responsible," he said, "and not be lazy."
Chen Huan said you didn’t want me to go, maybe there was someone there and you were afraid that I would delay your good thing.
She had intended it as a joke, but it didn't come out right. After realizing what had happened to Yao Li, she couldn't joke about it anymore. The four million yuan in project funding couldn't be taken for nothing.
As expected, Li Ting's face tensed. Chen Huan said, "I know, I won't go."
Li Ting was anxious to arrange a flight for the next day, but Xi Yuhui told him not to worry, as the Americans took their time in arranging things, and it took another two weeks before they finalized the dates for a series of meetings.
Before Li Ting left the country, Shen Huan helped him pack his luggage and put the blood pressure monitor in his suitcase. She said she had interviewed several nurses and they were all good, and she would decide after he returned.
After Li Ting left, Shen Huan followed Lou Hetai, traveling to several cities, attending salons, and conducting university seminars, diligently promoting credit risk control models. Shen Huan had started in venture capital and was unfamiliar with the credit business. She wore a white shirt and black skirt, and most people mistook her for Lou Hetai's secretary, asking her to carry water or scan a QR code to call a taxi.
Lou Hetai asked her to present her PowerPoint presentation. Shen Huan was articulate and patient, her serious demeanor showing particular respect for her client, the chairman's wife. When the client asked about professional matters, Lou Hetai took over.
After the event, she met with the technical team that evening to revise the materials. The leading managers had been at Xuantao Ronghe for years and were initially unenthusiastic about her new leadership role. Fortunately, she was a quiet talker, primarily listening to what others said, which she remembered.
Furthermore, retail loan default rates are rising, and the piles of bad debts are creating a depressing atmosphere in the office. Only the risk control products are selling well. While the scale and profits can't compare to those of the asset management department, it's still a hope. After a month, Chen Huan had become quite familiar with Ronghui.
After being apart for a while, Li Ting seemed to miss her. The messages he sent her had punctuation marks instead of two words at a time, and he would occasionally send her a photo of himself.
When Chen Huan was an intern at Xuan Tao, she would occasionally see Li Ting posting nine-square grids of photos on his Moments, which were photos of landmarks: the Golden Gate Bridge, the Wall Street Bull, Harvard University... After they got married, the pictures Li Ting occasionally sent her always had gray-toned conference rooms and train compartments as the background.
The two of them were separated by time differences and the Pacific Ocean. It was a rare opportunity for them to video chat in the past two weeks. Li Ting frowned when he came up and said, "You're so tanned!" Shen Huan asked, "Is it not good-looking?" Li Ting grinned again, "It looks good, it looks good."
Shen Huan asked him, "Will you fly back the day after tomorrow?"
Li Ting refused to return to Hancheng, instead heading to Haishi for a week to meet with the CEOs of two state-owned banks. "People are realistic. I've taught you that before," Li Ting said, his voice dripping with his usual earnestness. He cursed the two old men for always having to crawl all the way to Hancheng to get a meeting with him, and now he had to come in person.
Chen Huan listened quietly. Li Ting's complaints didn't require her to express any reaction. She acknowledged him, appearing to be knowing, and comforted him, appearing to be naive. She usually just took note of them in her mind.
Li Ting spoke for a few moments, then suddenly paused. Chen Huan, watching the screen, saw a rare look of hesitation on his face. The last time he wore that expression was when he and Xi Yuhui were standing in front of the curling incense burner.
Li Ting asked casually. He asked if you knew a man named Barry Fletcher, who was an office secretary of a senator from North Carolina more than ten years ago and has now left politics to go into business.
"I haven't heard of it." Shen Huan answered truthfully.
Li Ting, who was watching on the phone, looked hesitant. He picked up the thermos on the table, unscrewed the lid and took a sip. "I came to the United States this time to play golf with him."
Shen Huan didn't know what he was talking about until he said, "Barry Fletcher said he remembered you. You went to the shooting range together more than ten years ago."
Chen Huan was stunned for a second before she remembered this man. He had a square chin, a large nose, and a face the color of years of sun. He wore a red tie and a small American flag badge on his cuff. The first time Chen Huan saw him, it was actually at the shooting range; he had been brought there by Meng Zixian.
Shen Huan's cheeks stiffened a little. She said that when she was in college, she was always surrounded by people, and maybe Fletcher was there too. There were so many people, she couldn't remember them all.
"Haha." Li Ting laughed dryly twice: "You have a wide network of contacts. I should have brought you here earlier, so that I wouldn't have to stand in front of someone else's office door in the cold air conditioning for a long time." His tone was sarcastic, and Shen Huan could hear Li Ting's dissatisfaction.
Li Ting continued, "It happened more than a decade ago. That American was very impressed by you. He said that when you first met, you almost shot him to death."
It was Emma Schumer's idea to go shoot the gun.
She was the kind of Southern sweetheart who wore ripped jeans and a tank top, had three piercings on her left ear, tanned cheeks, and painted her lips with a frosted pale pink lipstick that was long out of fashion on the East Coast. Emma always called the girls "sweetheart" and "baby" when she spoke to them, and her smile showed a row of neat white teeth.
If they had met at an elite private university in New England or on the campus of California's Silicon Valley, Emma and Shen Huan would probably have only exchanged a pinched hello in the dormitory hallway or an open-arm hug on the tennis court. They wouldn't have been friends.
They were of different skin colors, cultures, and beliefs. Emma was outgoing and enthusiastic, throwing endless backyard barbecues, while Chen Huan was quiet and shy, staying home to sleep when she wasn't in class. Emma never learned a single word of Mandarin, and Chen Huan never went to church on Sundays. Aside from a shared love of freshly baked brownies and cookies, they had few common interests.
But in Fort Benny, North Carolina, a small town home to 50,000 soldiers and their families, fate has brought them together.
Emma's husband, Henry Schumer, is a 25-year-old army captain. The only Asian face in the company is named Meng, 21-year-old Second Lieutenant Miles Meng.
After Emma and Shen Huan became familiar with each other, she would often ask Henry to invite Meng Zixian out so that the four of them could hang out together. Emma probably had the same old-fashioned idea: seeing that Meng Zixian and Shen Huan were both Asian, she decided that they should be a couple.
Henry was not happy at first. He said that there was a rumor that Meng had an Irish fiancée who was studying English literature at Yale University, and he would return to Connecticut to get married after he retired in four years.
Emma said, "You're kidding! There are still four years left. It's settled." "But Chen Huan is different. She's right here, alive and well."
Chen Huan felt like she was being sold by Emma like pork for sale, and hurriedly shook her head and said, "No, no, I don't like men."
Her English was poor, and her words were misunderstood. The two conservative and devout Christians opposite her had stiff expressions. Henry looked at Shen Huan solemnly, as if he was determined to pull her back from the wrong path.
Perhaps it was Father Henry's alms-giving fervor that persuaded Meng Zixian, or perhaps Henry was, after all, Meng Zixian's superior. In a special operations base like Fort Benny, rank was everything.
Meng Zixuan really came.
On the way to the shooting range, Emma and her drove a Ford Raptor, with Meng Zixian, Henry, and Fletcher in the Grand Cherokee behind them. Emma had a cigarette in her mouth, her right hand resting on the gear lever of the manual Jeep. She asked Chen Huan, "Is gun safety the first rule?"
Shen Huan endorsed: "The muzzle of the gun is always pointed in a safe direction."
"Good job!" Emma laughed heartily.
Shen Huan went back to the shooting range for the first time, hoping Emma would protect her. But just as they bought some paper targets in the front hall, Emma and Henry went to the milkshake shop next door, and the couple's tongues were glued together as soon as they got out of the car.
Chen Huan had no choice but to hold on to the revolver and .44 bullets she had left behind, put on his earmuffs, and followed the staff in black vests to the back.
A heavy metal door opened, revealing a quiet storage room filled with miscellaneous items: discarded rails, soundproofing panels, and tape. She walked in front, followed by Meng Zixuan and Fletcher, who kept talking and laughing.
Another metal door opened, and the sound of gunfire poured out, shaking her chest. They walked into the shooting range. The heavy sound of gunfire was accompanied by the crisp sound of bullet casings hitting the ground. A slight tremor radiated from the soles of her feet, and Shen Huan felt as if she was standing on an overpass and swaying slightly.
She turned her head and looked at Meng Zixuan behind her, saying to him in Chinese, "My earmuffs are broken." Meng Zixuan seemed not to hear clearly, so he pulled open his earmuffs and lowered his head. The two of them were quite close, and Shen Huan looked straight at him and could see the silver cross on his chest.
She looked up at him, pointed to her ear, and said, "Can I try your earmuffs? Mine don't work." Meng Zixuan took off his own and exchanged them with hers. They were the same. Shen Huan was stunned.
He seemed to have expected this and ignored her, instead picking up his own paper target at the next shooting range.
The instructor who took her to the range was in charge of several newbies, and Chen Huan was the only woman there. He first explained her stance, grip, and aiming. He said that since she was just starting out, the revolver was quite suitable. There was no need to pull the slide or load the magazine; as soon as there was a bullet in the cylinder, she could fire.
The instructor left to instruct others. Chen Huan looked at Fletcher at the range next door. He was quite skilled, likely not his first time. He loaded the magazine and fired a shot. Fletcher adjusted his front and back feet and fired again.
After two shots, he took a deep breath and lowered his arms, wondering if they were numb from the shock.
"Go on," Meng Zixian said to him. His tone was almost commanding, short and low, probably due to military habit. Fletcher glanced at him, like a child cornered, raised his gun again, took a deep breath, and fired.
Seeing Fletcher had fired half a magazine, Shen Huan regretted coming here today. This burly man looked very tired, and she was worried that she would dislocate her shoulder if she fired a shot.
There were a few "bangs" and Fletcher lowered his arms again.
"There's no such thing as an overheated barrel in a .45," Meng Zixuan said. Shen Huan thought to himself, he's so strict.
"Oh, I understand, but I need a break." Fletcher put down his gun and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Shen Huan didn't look at Fletcher again. He turned back and stood up. According to the coach's previous instructions, he inhaled, positioned his arms, found the target through the crosshairs, exhaled, and completely emptied his chest before pulling the trigger.
The gun didn't fire.
The instructor was not there, so Shen Huan looked at Meng Zixian for help. But Fletcher was resting his hand on his shoulder and spitting, and Meng Zixian didn't even look at her.
She repositioned herself, took another deep breath, and pulled the trigger hard. It didn't work. The gun seemed to be jammed. Her palms were already clammy.
She lowered her hands and fiddled with the revolver on the table, trying to see if there was a bullet in the cylinder. Unable to figure it out, she turned the pistol over, pointing the barrel upwards at her face. Before she could react, the gun had slipped out of her hand. Meng Zixuan held her revolver and handed it back to her with the barrel facing forward.
His movements were familiar and accurate, without the slightest hesitation. He said seriously, "The gun is only pointed at the person you want to kill."
Shen Huan said sorry in shame and asked if my gun was jammed.
Meng Zixian said this gun wouldn't jam. Even so, he took the revolver again, unloaded it, loaded it, stepped forward with his left foot, held it with both hands, and bent his arms slightly.
Bang—the gunshot rang out and the paper target shook slightly.
Chen Huan was a little embarrassed. He handed the gun back to her, saying, "You need to use more force." Chen Huan wanted to argue, "I used more force," but she didn't say it. She was a little nervous, feeling cramped by the soundproofing panels in front and behind her. By the time the first bullet finally came out of her hand, her vest was soaked.
After firing a few shots, she told Meng Zixian she was done, her tone like a student skipping class. Meng Zixian, who was at the shooting range next door, glanced at her nonchalantly. Seeing he agreed, Chen Huan breathed a sigh of relief. She impatiently placed the gun on the table, aiming it at Fletcher on her right.
Meng Zixuan immediately picked up the gun from her desk, unloaded the bullet, and put it back with the barrel facing forward.
He stood before her, looking down at her, the cold, incandescent light casting shadows on his eyelids. He asked, "What did I just say to you?"
Shen Huan replied quietly: “The gun is only pointed at the person you want to kill.”
He said, "I can't hear."
Shen Huan pursed his lips and raised his voice a little: “The gun is only pointed at the person you want to kill.”
"I can't hear you."
Chen Huan gathered all her strength and yelled at him, "Point the gun at the person you want to kill!" She didn't even know she could yell so loudly like a soldier, and her face suddenly flushed.
Meng Zixuan stared at her expressionlessly for a while and said, "Go away."
Fletcher's laughter could be heard from behind, and he shouted, "Ma'am, this is attempted murder!"
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