Zhu Wenxing kicked Li Feiyang out of the car and drove home at a hundred and twenty.
He lay in the bathtub, smoking, the bandage on his right hand long since dried and soaked through again, past the point of telling blood from water. Heavy. He could barely lift it.
Outside, the sound of a key turning in the lock.
Then hurried, scattered footsteps.
Zhu Wenxing dropped the cigarette into the toilet, pulled on his white silk robe, and slowly opened the bathroom door.
Wen Tingxuan was draped, boneless, over a young woman. Her back was to Zhu Wenxing; she hadn't noticed him.
"Xuan-ge, you're drunk. We're home."
"Xuan-ge. Xuan-ge."
The girl's voice was sweet and coaxing, and the two of them flirted without a care for anyone else in the world.
The push-and-pull act. It landed squarely on Zhu Wenxing's heart.
He applauded without hesitation, even cheered.
"Tingxuan, is this your lover?"
"Shall I clear out the master bedroom so the two of you can get on with it?!"
In the light spilling from the bathroom, Jiang Xin saw him: Zhu Wenxing in flowing white, his slightly overgrown hair hiding that slender neck, his right hand wrapped in a yellowed, blood-freckled bandage. It looked bad.
"You've got it wrong. It's not like that between us."
She looked a little flustered—but more than that, delighted.
The moment Jiang Xin said it, Wen Tingxuan moved to seal her mouth with his. After the kiss, his eyes went soft and honeyed. "Xinxin, you said you loved me. You can only be mine."
"Xuan-ge, you're drunk—don't be like this."
With that she shoved him away, grabbed her pink leather bag, and fled in a panic.
Wen Tingxuan sprawled on the floor, limbs spread wide.
He murmured to the ceiling: "Xinxin... Xinxin..."
Morning.
Before his eyes were even open, Wen Tingxuan pulled Zhu Wenxing into his arms, nuzzling against him, cheek rubbing against cheek.
"Xinxin, what time is it?"
Zhu Wenxing hadn't slept all night. The shadows under his eyes were darker than yesterday's.
The storm in his chest had gone still after one long night. He seemed, at last, to have thought things through.
"Seven."
Still dreaming of Jiang Xin's warm softness, Wen Tingxuan's hand drifted, unthinking, toward Zhu Wenxing's chest.
Flat. Nothing. Not a ripple.
Lower still: skin and bone, sharp against the palm.
Cold sweat broke out instantly. He jolted awake!
"Zhu Wenxing!"
He cried out like he'd seen a ghost: "You shameless thing—when did you crawl into my bed!"
Even as he shouted, he was scrambling off the bed on all fours.
Zhu Wenxing gave a cold laugh and tugged at the pajama collar Wen Tingxuan had rumpled. "Last night your little lover ran off, and you're the one who dragged me in here."
Then the corner of his mouth curled into a wicked smile, and his mind did the math as he spoke: "You were going at it like you'd swallowed ten little blue pills."
Zhu Wenxing rose, made a show of tugging at the hem of his underwear, one jade-white leg sliding into view from the long silk robe: "Look, you pinched it all red. It hurts, you know."
Wen Tingxuan, fumbling into his suit in a panic, watched him revel in it—and grabbed the glass vase at hand and hurled it.
Crash!
The vase burst apart at Zhu Wenxing's feet.
"Shut up!"
"Who said you could talk!"
"Shut your mouth! I've put up with you for ten years. Whatever affection there was, it's been repaid in full."
Zhu Wenxing walked right past him, unbothered: "That's right. Every debt of feeling repaid, every account settled."
"It's time we ended this."
Wen Tingxuan exploded, shoving him to the floor: "If it weren't for my parents, do you think I'd have put up with you for ten years?"
Zhu Wenxing's aching right hand seeped fresh blood. Beads of sweat rolled down his cheek; his lips trembled. "Back then, you were the one who said you loved me. You chose this. Did I force you?"
"All these years I've turned a blind eye to everything you did. I've had enough too."
Bracing against the sofa, Zhu Wenxing pushed himself upright. "Let's get divorced."
Wen Tingxuan snatched up his briefcase, livid. "Fine by me!"
—
"What? You're divorcing Tingxuan?"
Zhu's father clamped a hand over his wife's mouth and kicked the courtyard gate shut behind him. "Keep it down. The whole street can hear you."
"Back when we married Wenxing off, you were boasting to the neighbors about what a fine match he'd made. And now look—everyone gets a good laugh at our expense."
Zhu's father settled his wife onto the sofa and handed his son a cup of tea. "Wenxing, your brother's illness has been getting better these past years. If you divorce Tingxuan, will the Wen family still pay for his treatment?"
He shook his head, brow furrowed, deeply troubled. "A hundred and twenty thousand a month in care fees is no small sum. Your mother and I just visited him at the hospital yesterday—he can walk a short stretch now. In a few years he should make a full recovery."
Zhu's mother dabbed her eyes. "Divorce, and you'll be a laughingstock—and your brother's care fees become a problem on top of it."
"You promised us back then you'd never fight with Tingxuan as long as you lived. It's barely been ten years."
"Could it be—Tingxuan wants children now? You're a man... you can't carry one."
"Why not adopt? Or find a surrogate?"
Zhu Wenxing's temper boiled over; the teacup slammed down onto the table.
"Mom, Dad. Can we please not plan illegal things."
"Maybe you're right, though. Maybe he does want children—a child with his own blood."
"As for my brother's care fees, I'll figure something out."
With that, Zhu Wenxing strode out the door, ignoring his parents' questions chasing him down the yard.
Zhu's mother stared at the taillights until they vanished, stamping her feet. "Oh dear, what do we do now? Should we go talk to President Wen?"
Zhu's father waved his hands frantically. "Don't you dare. It's probably just a lovers' quarrel. Drag it in front of President Wen and Tingxuan won't be able to show his face."
The car roared along the mountain road. His right hand ached dully; the fresh bandage he'd tied himself was crooked and clumsy—nothing like a professional's work.
Zhu Wenxing had no time for any of it. One glance at the hand, and he grabbed his phone and dialed.
"Hey, Wuzhu—last time you said you ran into Tingxuan somewhere. Where was it?"
Wuzhu was an old college classmate. They'd been close once, but after Zhu Wenxing got married, they'd drifted.
Only last month, she'd mentioned offhandedly spotting Wen Tingxuan at a hotel front desk.
"Ah... well..."
"Didn't you tell me last time I saw it wrong?"
"Why bring it up now then—"
Zhu Wenxing was losing patience. He forced it down: "I'm suspicious now, all right? Can you tell me now? Please!"
Wuzhu: "Oh! Sure, sure, sure—whatever you say, Zhu-ge. The Verian Hotel. I saw him there twice."
"You—"
He hung up before she could finish.
He didn't have time.
He had to find the evidence that would split the marital assets in his favor.
Any later, and there might be nothing left—not even dregs.
Forget his brother's care fees. His own survival might be the question.