Bending down to enter the chess game

Chapter 36 Old Woman

"Me too." Bai Xuanjiao hugged Yu Xingge's arm, her small hands pressed against his soft, smooth skin. "Xingge, why did he pull you into his team? Is it because of that divorce case you just handled? This invitation seems rather strange. Do you want to join their team?"

Should we go in?

of course not.

However, Wei Jin clearly hadn't given up. After spending half the night trying to spar with Yu Xingge without success, at 10 a.m. the next morning, after the marriage and family law team's routine meeting, Li Ruochun walked straight towards her with a stack of case files. "Xingge, a case has come to the meeting room specifically requesting in-home consultation from the marriage and family law team. You just handled it, so you're very experienced. Bring Huang Yuan along to receive them."

"Me?" An incredulous voice came from behind him. As Li Ruochun stepped aside, Huang Yuan, dressed in a pale yellow Chanel-style suit, appeared from behind, pointing to her chest and saying, "She brought me?"

Li Ruochun scratched his face: "Ah, that's what Director Wei just said. You should learn from Xingge."

"Ruochun!" Huang Yuan turned to look at her, stomping her foot in frustration. She pulled Li Ruochun away. Yu Xingge heard her puzzled voice faintly: "I've handled so many cases already, and you're letting a real estate team mentor me?"

"Hey, don't overthink it. It's just a little study..."

This is really troublesome. It seems like this team doesn't really understand human speech. Yu Xingge rubbed his throbbing temples.

A moment later, Huang Yuan walked over, pouting. She passed Yu Xingge and returned to her workstation, a whiff of Chanel wafting into her nostrils. She slammed her notebook and pen onto her desk, bent down, and rummaged through the shelf on the right, pulling out a set of documents. After her frantic search, she turned to Yu Xingge, who remained motionless at his workstation, and said, "Didn't Ruochun say he had to entertain clients? Aren't you going to get ready?"

Ugh……

Suppressing her rising anger, Yu Xingge maintained a smiling face: "I'm new to marriage and family law cases, so consider this a learning experience from Attorney Huang." She looked into her eyes: "Attorney Huang, is there anything I can do?"

Huang Yuan kept her eyes straight ahead: "It's nothing, I'm all ready. Let's go."

In the first reception room by the lake, Zhang Yun paced back and forth, saying, "Why is this lawyer so slow? It's driving me crazy!"

"Mom," Qiao Yi called out to her, "Please sit down and have some water."

"Why are you drinking water! I'm so angry! Aren't you angry at all?"

Not angry?

Joey gave a wry smile.

What good will getting angry do?

Let's rewind to two days ago.

"Mom, you bought perfume again? Dad said Teacher Fang smells nice, like peaches." Zhang Zhaoxing, perched on his high chair, stirred the pork rib soup in his bowl with a spoon. The eight-year-old boy's voice was clear and bright, ringing out in the afternoon sunlight. But it took Qiao Yi a few breaths to process what he meant.

Her hand, which was testing the fragrance, paused. Beneath her, the pink glass bottle reflected a cold light in the sunlight. She abruptly stood up, carrying the ceramic vase she had brought to the entryway. Shards of porcelain scattered across the antique-style tiles, startling Aunt Li, who was simmering soup in the kitchen, who poked her head out: "What's wrong?"

"fine."

She crouched down to pick up the shards, completely unaware that her index finger had been cut. A drop of blood dripped onto her off-white wool dress, spreading into a dark red stain.

"Xiao Xing, when did Dad say that?"

"My dad told me about it when he picked me up from the parent-teacher conference last week," Zhang Zhaoxing said, swinging his legs and tapping his spoon against the rim of his bowl. "We even went to eat Japanese food together, and Ms. Fang was so happy. It was that place that had tuna and an Ultraman sign outside!"

Qiao Yi felt a throbbing pain in her temples. Last Wednesday, her husband, Zhang Zhirong, said he had a company dinner, but despite his busy schedule, he still went to pick up Xiao Xing. She was once again grateful that she had married a good man. When he came home late at night, there was indeed white residue on his collar. It suddenly dawned on her—it was…foundation? At the time, she was working on her portfolio on the computer and assumed he had gone to an izakaya (Japanese pub). She stood up, her mind a complete mess.

When she came to her senses again, her husband arrived home and asked, "What's wrong?" Zhang Zhirong stood by the bed and replied, "Are you feeling unwell?"

She opened her mouth and, after a long pause, said, "It's nothing, just a bit of a headache."

"Oh," he said, unbuttoning his jacket, which draped over his arm, his tie askew. He bent down to change his shoes, revealing a fresh scratch on the back of his neck. Qiao Yi stared at the dark red scab. How come she hadn't noticed such a mark before? Was it just her paranoia?

But how long has it been since they last had sex?

"Shall we do it tonight?" she asked.

Zhang Zhirong stopped abruptly: "You're still sick."

He picked up his pajamas: "I'm all sweaty, I'm going to take a shower."

A series of thumps sounded, and her son ran over, touching her face: "Mom, are you sick?"

"Mommy's okay." She lovingly touched his little face. "Why aren't you playing with the building blocks anymore?"

"Mom isn't feeling well, I'm not in the mood to play." Zhang Zhaoxing pouted. "Mom, are you going to the hospital? What do you want to eat? I'll get it for you."

"No need, baby." Qiao Yi's gaze softened. "Go and rest. Mommy just needs a little sleep."

"Alright then." Zhang Zhaoxing considerately tucked the blanket in a little more. "Then Mom, you should get some rest."

"Hmm." Watching her son enter his room, Qiao Yi straightened up from the cushions on the bay window. Her laptop screen was still showing the recommendation letter page for her college application. She got out of bed and reached for his phone, which he had tossed on the dressing table. Married for seven years, they had long since shared all their passwords. But he knew she wouldn't look at it.

The mobile banking icon glowed with a faint blue light in the darkness. Qiao Yi curled up on the dressing table floor, her thumb trembling above the screen. The shower stopped as the first Wednesday's record appeared. Qiao Yi bit her lip to stifle a sob.

On March 15th, the bill for Tanimachi Japanese Restaurant was 1960 yuan, paid at 8:47 PM. That day he said he had to have dinner with the auditors, and she even slipped some hangover medicine into his bag. Water droplets fell on the screen, making the words "Kempinski Hotel" swell. On April 12th, April 26th, and May 10th, every other Wednesday afternoon at 3 PM, the room payment records appeared precisely on time. She bit her lip hard, remembering last month when her son had a fever of 39 degrees Celsius, and Zhang Zhirong also said he couldn't leave due to the project's urgency, telling her to go to the hospital to see what was wrong. So, he was going to urge someone else's bedsheets...

Qiao Yi stood up blankly, her bare feet stepping across the cold floor tiles, and reached for half a bottle of red wine from the wine cabinet. She calmed herself for a moment, then checked her ticket history at the Jing'an Road Cinema again. May 20th, watching "Lust, Caution" three times in a row in a private cinema, haha. The air conditioner hissed out cold air. She pressed her phone to her face, biting her lip until it bled.

Suddenly, she stood up abruptly and rushed to the sink.

Vomiting, dry heaving. The person in the mirror looked so disheveled. She tried hard to recall what her son's homeroom teacher, Ms. Fang, looked like.

That old woman?