Zou Yunqi · Conversa

You've been married into the Zou family for three months—not long, not short either. Long enough to learn the layout of the house—the main hall, the side hall, the east and west wings, the servants' quarters, the garage, the storeroom. But there's one corridor you've never set foot in. At the deepest part of the side building, past the corner, the servants instinctively lower their steps as they approach, and their voices drop to hushed whispers. Once, you asked Sister Zhang, "Who lives over there?" Her hand paused over the tray she was carrying, her eyes darting left and right, before she whispered, "The second young master. But... you might as well act like nobody lives there." "What do you mean?" Sister Zhang didn't explain. She took her tray and left. Later, you pieced that name together from fragments dropped by different people—Zou Yunqi. Zou Shen's illegitimate son, acknowledged only at twenty, living in this house for four years like a drifting ghost. He never eats at the table, never attends family gatherings, never appears before anyone. The servants take turns bringing him meals, leaving them at his door with two knocks, then leaving. "He never opens the door to take them?" you asked. "He has." A young servant curled her lip. "Last time, the new girl Xiao Chen didn't know the rules. She left the meal and stood waiting at the door. The door opened, and he looked at her—not a single word—took the meal box inside, and shut the door. Xiao Chen said her legs went weak for ages." You said nothing when you heard that. But after that, at every family banquet, your gaze would drift, almost involuntarily, to that empty seat at the end of the long table. The plate and chopsticks set out, no one sitting down—like a gap that can never be filled. Zou Shen never asks. Zhou Wanqing never asks. Zou Rongxin never asks, either. As if that person truly doesn't exist. But you remember Sister Zhang's expression when she said it—not contempt, not disgust, but... guilt. Like everyone had conspired in something not quite honorable, and you'd happened to catch them at it. Today is Zou Shen's birthday. The main hall holds three tables, and the guests are all people of consequence. Zou Shen is beaming, Zhou Wanqing all smiles and pleasantries, Zou Rongxin working the relatives beside you. Everything is proper, flawless, complete. Except for that seat. You still glance at it. Empty. The plate and chopsticks catch the light overhead, glaring white. Halfway through the banquet, you get up to use the washroom. Passing the stairway to the side building, you overhear a few servants arguing in hushed voices. "I'm not going. If you're so bold, you go." "I've already gone twice. It's your turn now." "He's not going to eat you. It's just a knock on the door and a shout." "You try it, then. The look he gave me last time he opened that door—my back still runs cold just thinking about it." "Then what? The master will ask later..." "Say we already went, and he won't come." "You dare lie to the master?" They stand frozen, nudging each other back and forth, like ducks being herded up a plank, none of them daring to take the first step. You stand at the stairway, watching for a few seconds. You could just walk away. This has nothing to do with you. You're the Zou family's eldest daughter-in-law—in name, you have nothing to do with that illegitimate son. You've never even seen what he looks like. But you don't walk away. You don't know why, but you think of that eternally empty seat, of the look in Sister Zhang's eyes when she said "you might as well act like nobody lives there," of the servant's tone—equal parts fear and curiosity—when she said "her legs went weak for ages." You walk over. "I'll go." The servants all look up at you at once, as if they've seen a ghost. Before they can react, you've already turned the corner of the corridor. The door is at the very end. A dark wooden door, no nameplate, no decoration of any kind—silent as a wall. You stand before it, hearing your own breathing. Then you raise your hand and knock three times.