Brother Wen was the oldest in this group of friends, pushing fifty this year. Though his body aged, his heart didn’t—he had a jianghu vibe, loving to gather mates and hit the nightlife scene.
In his earlier years, Deng Shangwei had been Brother Wen’s lackey, picking up small deals from him. Only after growing his business did Deng Shangwei strike out on his own.
The other bosses in the room had similar stories—they’d all started out under Brother Wen’s wing.
Brother Wen’s business had boomed before the new millennium, but when Macau returned to China in ’99, he’d been dragged there to gamble and lost most of his fortune. Now, with his vitality sapped, he couldn’t hold a candle to his former protégé Deng Shangwei, whose seafood business was thriving.
Brother Wen lounged on the sofa, puffing smoke, chuckling as he swore, “Don’t drag me into this—what’s this rubbish about looking down on me? I’ve known Little Deng for over a decade. Don’t I know what kind of bloke he is better than you lot?”
Deng Shangwei breathed a sigh of relief.
If Brother Wen hadn’t spoken up, Deng Shangwei might’ve had to down a few drinks tonight just to avoid offending him.
Precisely because Brother Wen wasn’t doing as well as before, Deng Shangwei couldn’t let him lose face in front of others—that’d be too disloyal.
Brother Wen had given him a leg up back in the day. Whether others remembered that kindness didn’t matter to Deng Shangwei—he only cared about doing right by himself.
But his relief came too soon. Brother Wen was playing a game of build-up and knockdown. Seeing Deng Shangwei genuinely about to leave, he immediately called for Lily.
“Lily’s not here tonight, so Little Deng can’t even stomach a drink. Hurry up and get Lily in here.”
With Brother Wen’s word, the group erupted, hollering for “Lily.”
They were regulars at this nightclub, and the owner had to keep them happy. Whatever reason Lily hadn’t shown up earlier, Brother Wen had spoken—so Lily had to appear.
Deng Shangwei’s face darkened. He grabbed his bag to leave, but the private room’s door swung open, and in walked a young woman in a dress—Brother Wen’s Lily.
Lily radiated youth, her features still carrying a hint of innocence, caught between girlhood and womanhood. She was strikingly pure, nothing like the typical women scraping by in the nightlife scene.
Spotting Deng Shangwei, her eyes lit up, but recalling his coldness, they dimmed with hurt. Her glistening, watery gaze tugged at the heartstrings.
The boss who’d earlier tried to force a drink on Deng Shangwei spoke with a sour edge, “Little Deng, I’ve sent flowers, treated her to meals, and Lily won’t even spare me a glance. Her heart’s all tied up with you, yet you can still harden yourself to push her away. As your mate, I just don’t get you.”
Lily approached Deng Shangwei, calling out “Brother Deng” softly, fidgeting awkwardly.
Deng Shangwei didn’t even look at her. She offered him a drink, but he refused to take it, leaving her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“Little Deng, the hardest thing to resist is a beauty’s favour. If you’re set on leaving, fine—but drink the toast Lily’s offering, then go!” Brother Wen declared.
To drink or not to drink?
Deng Shangwei didn’t care about a single glass.
Forget one—he could handle several.
But it depended on who was offering.
Drinking Lily’s toast would send her the wrong signal.
His fingers brushed the glass, but then he recalled Wen Ying’s words over the phone tonight: *“Uncle, I trust you.”*
Did he deserve that trust?
Shame washed over him, and his hand recoiled from the glass as if shocked.
“Brother Wen, my wife’s not back in Rongcheng yet, and it’s just the two kids at home. I’m a bit worried about them, so I’ll head back tonight. I’ll host next time to make it up to you.”
Deng Shangwei stood firm on leaving. Brother Wen didn’t stop him, even quieting the others’ jeers. Patting Deng Shangwei’s shoulder, he said, “Women are like clothes—you can swap ’em out if they don’t suit. But kids are your own flesh and blood; you’ve got to look after them. Go on home. We’ll catch up another day!”
Deng Shangwei left, taking Lily’s heart with him.
Lily bit her lip and chased after him.
He’d already started the car. She clung to the window, tears welling up. “Brother Deng, you’re too cruel. What’s wrong with me? Tell me, and I’ll change.”
There was nothing wrong with Lily.
Though she worked at the nightclub, she was actually a music academy student. The owner had put a piano in the lobby, and Lily was hired to play it.
Young, pretty, and cultured—several of Deng Shangwei’s boss mates fancied her, but she didn’t give them the time of day. She had eyes for Deng Shangwei!
His heart was stone-cold. “I made it clear last time—I can’t be with you. I love my wife dearly.”
“But we—”
Lily’s words were cut off. “There’s nothing between us. Step aside—I’m going.”
Deng Shangwei drove off, leaving Lily standing there, staring after him.
How strange. She’d sensed his resolve softening earlier—why had he suddenly turned hard and cold again?
Catching sight of Lily still rooted to the spot in his rearview mirror, Deng Shangwei frowned.
With Lily around, he couldn’t come back to this nightclub.
He got home past 1 a.m. Everyone was asleep. He showered quietly, washing off the smoke and booze from the private room before slipping into bed.
Chen Li stirred groggily, sensing someone beside her.
“You’re back?”
“Yeah.”
Deng Shangwei wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Wife, I didn’t drink.”
*I’m sorry, wife.*
He buried his face in the crook of Chen Li’s neck.
…
Wen Ying woke up past 8 a.m.
It was Sunday—no school for her two little cousins. They’d been tearing around the house since dawn, blasting each other with water guns. Deng Yaomei, soft-tempered, couldn’t control them. Chen Li lost it, confiscated their guns, and made the brothers face the wall as punishment.
“Yaomei just mopped the floor, and you two little terrors don’t even care. Do you know how knackered she gets looking after you all day?”
“If you wake Wen Ying up, just see how I’ll deal with you.”
Wen Ying giggled under her blanket.
Her auntie often called her sons “little debt collectors,” saying they drove her mad daily and gave her extra wrinkles.
Calling Deng Jie and Deng Hao debt collectors was a stretch. Big cousin Deng Jie was only nine, and Deng Hao, just six. Boys that age being naughty was par for the course.
“Auntie, I’m awake!” Wen Ying hollered.
Chen Li shouted back from the living room, “I knew you’d wake her up! Where do you think you’re running off to?”
Deng Jie and Deng Hao bolted for their room, but Chen Li grabbed them by the collars. The two little rascals wailed, yelling for Wen Ying to save them.
Since Chen Li and Deng Shangwei doted on Wen Ying, and she always indulged her cousins, any pocket money Chen Li gave her barely warmed her pocket before it turned into toys for them. Deng Jie and Deng Hao adored their generous, toy-buying cousin.
Knowing Wen Ying had arrived that morning, they’d been bouncing with excitement. If Chen Li hadn’t stopped them, they’d have stormed her room to drag her out of bed.
Wen Ying dressed quickly and got up. While brushing her teeth, her cousins swarmed her, chirping “Sister Ying” left and right. She smiled silently, letting them spout their sweet, childish chatter without promising to buy them toys.
Nine-year-old Deng Jie was stumped.
“Sister Ying, did you bomb your exams or something? Are you in a bad mood?”
Wen Ying, toothbrush in mouth, mumbled, “Even you know I flunked my exams?”
