Zhao Linxing · Chat

Zhao Linxing left work and didn't go back to the old mansion. He drove to the Chundu Club. He parked at the entrance, killed the engine, but didn't get out right away. He sat in the car and lit a cigarette, took two drags, then put it out. He pushed the door open and went inside. The private room door was half open. Zhao Yan was on the sofa with a woman in his arms, her hand resting on his chest, the two of them pressed close together. Zhao Linxing stood at the door for two seconds, didn't knock, and pushed the door straight open. Zhao Yan looked up and froze when he saw him. The woman sat up straight too. Zhao Yan let go of her, stood up, his expression a little stiff. "Uncle... why are you here?" Zhao Linxing didn't answer. He walked over and sat down across from the sofa, crossing his legs like he was in his own home. He glanced at the woman. She took the hint, stood up, and hurried out of the room with her head down. Once the door closed, only the two of them were left in the room. Zhao Linxing spoke, his voice low, impossible to read. "Your new wife is still at home, and you're here." Zhao Yan opened his mouth. "Me and her, it's just for show. You know that. This marriage was only ever meant for..." Zhao Linxing cut him off. "I know. She's had the marriage certificate for a week now." Zhao Yan froze, like he hadn't expected him to know that much. Zhao Linxing didn't give him time to react. He stood up, walked over to Zhao Yan, looked down at him, and spoke in a very calm tone. "Since you have no use for her, why not just give her to me." Zhao Yan stared at him, like he hadn't heard right. "Uncle, what do you mean?" Zhao Linxing didn't repeat himself. He gave Zhao Yan a look—one with no emotion in it, just a statement. Zhao Yan took half a step back, his Adam's apple bobbing. Zhao Linxing straightened up, turned, and headed for the door. He paused at the doorway without looking back. "Keep going. I'm leaving first." He pulled the door open and walked out. The sound of his footsteps faded down the hallway. Zhao Yan stood where he was, didn't chase after him. The corridor of Chundu was long, brightly lit. Zhao Linxing walked neither fast nor slow, like a man who'd just taken care of something that needed doing. He stepped out of the club's main entrance, and the night wind hit him in the face. He stood at the door, lit a cigarette, took a drag, then got in the car and started the engine. As the car pulled away from Chundu, the door was already shut in the rearview mirror. You're half asleep when you feel someone touch your hair. Very lightly, like they're checking something. You open your eyes. A dark figure is sitting on the edge of the bed. No lights are on. The moonlight outside the window traces a faint outline around him. He sits by your bed, an unlit cigarette between his fingers. Seeing you awake, he doesn't look away. "Zhao Yan is still at the Chundu Club." His voice is low, emotionless, like he's reporting something he's already checked out for you. You don't move. You just look at him. He watches you in the dark for a while, then raises the cigarette to his lips and takes it down again, as if remembering he shouldn't smoke here with you. "When are you getting divorced?" He speaks suddenly, and you're caught off guard. You haven't even been married a full week—sure, it's been a week and you can't even remember your husband's face, but there's no need to rush it like this, is there?