TAMW CH37

The man’s voice came through the receiver.

Slightly bewildered, Yuqing held the earpiece away and stared at the contraption before pressing it back to his ear, still marveling at the novelty.

He called out softly, “Zezhi?”

Yuqing’s voice was like winter jasmine blooming unexpectedly in the snow. Just thinking of those two syllables seemed to fill Zhou Xiao’s senses with a delicate fragrance that settled deep into his thoughts, impossible to shake.

Zhou Xiao said eagerly, “It’s me, it’s me.”

Yuqing smiled, his lashes lowering as a fond look softened his features. “I heard you called in the early hours…”

“I didn’t want them waking you. Pregnancy is an ordeal; how could a husband fail to cherish you? If the child torments you, how could I bear to make things harder by pestering you as well?”

Yuqing swallowed a laugh. “You make it sound so grand.”

When had his Zezhi ever spoken without a layer of pretense? He had always been one to say one thing and do another.

Choosing not to expose him, Yuqing asked gently, “Why call so early? Has something happened?”

Zhou Xiao had driven through the night back to Shencheng for the sole purpose of placing this call. There was nothing urgent to report, but he had simply wanted to place it—to hear his voice, to make sure Yuqing would not forget him while he was away.

Especially after learning yesterday that Yuqing had used him to secure his ends, he had been too thrilled to contain himself, yet had no one else to confide in. And so he had waited dutifully by the telephone, eager for his wife’s call.

“Must something be wrong for me to call?” Zhou Xiao asked.

Yuqing caught a faint trace of petulance in his tone. Knowing how petty the man could be, he humored him: “You can call anytime. I’m simply not used to using this thing.”

Dialing alone had taken quite a while, and he had handled the costly apparatus with great care for fear of breaking it. Everything Yuqing had learned within the estate had been taught by the old master, whereas these modern, fashionable contraptions were all brought in by Zhou Xiao. He was not slow to learn, but he needed a patient teacher. Over the days spent around Zhou Xiao, Yuqing could feel his own perspective and habits quietly shifting.

“I’ll teach you once I return,” Zhou Xiao promised.

“All right,” Yuqing murmured.

Both held their receivers, momentarily lost for words. A heavy silence settled between them, yet it did not feel awkward.

Yuqing figured that since they had nothing particular to discuss, they might as well hang up. Zhou Xiao, however, relished this quiet communion, confident that Yuqing was just as deeply content on the other end.

“Then—”

“Then—”

They spoke at the same time.

“You go first,” they said in unison once more.

Yuqing let out a helpless laugh. Anxious to hear what he had to say, Zhou Xiao urged, “Go on, speak.”

They had been parted for several days now. How was Yuqing feeling? Was his chest still tender? Did he still pad his robes with cloth, or did he need someone to massage the soreness away? Would asking such things sound like the talk of a degenerate? And had he missed him?

Zhou Xiao had wanted to ask that very question earlier. He always suspected Yuqing was lonely. Once the railway was finished, he intended to settle down and return to the household. The world had countless men of ambition and could spare one, but the Zhou family—and Yuqing—only had him, and they could not do without him.

“What is it you wanted to say? Just tell me.”

Yuqing replied, “If there is nothing else, I’ll hang up now.”

Zhou Xiao: “?”

Yuqing truly was not accustomed to telephone conversations. Hearing someone’s voice come through an earpiece was miraculous enough, but holding a piece of cold metal to one’s ear, hearing only a disembodied voice amidst crackling static, felt rather like speaking to a ghost. In the eyes of the servants, he was essentially muttering to a corded metal object.

In this era, telephones were reserved for military command posts, and banks were vital vaults of capital; the bank Zhou Xiao worked for was government-run, while Qingming Bank was private and had never installed one. Getting a private line required petitions, approvals, and reports all the way to the provincial bureau—a convoluted process that made the contraption even more of a novelty than a camera.

Yuqing added, “Since there is nothing left to say, shall I hang up?”

His pleasant daydream shattered, Zhou Xiao gripped the receiver indignantly. “Ruan Yuqing! Do you have a heart at all?!”

Yuqing: “…”

“What have I done?” Yuqing genuinely could not fathom why he had flared up so abruptly.

“You—” Zhou Xiao’s voice rose sharply, only to falter halfway. Unable to maintain his bluster, he lowered his tone into an aggrieved whimper. “Why didn’t you say you missed me? I told you just now that I missed you; didn’t you hear? How can you say there is nothing to talk about? You clearly have plenty you could tell me.”

Yuqing parted his lips. “Such as…?”

“Such as whether you’re eating well, how you’re sleeping, or whether the child has been kicking! How can those things be ‘nothing to talk about’? What married couple doesn’t have endless sweet nothings to share? Why are you hanging up? Did we install a telephone in the house just so you could cut me off?”

Yuqing: “…”

Left entirely speechless, Yuqing could not even get a word in before Zhou Xiao pressed on: “I’ve said so much, and now it’s your turn to speak. In France, married couples see each other every single day, sleep together, and spend practically every waking hour by each other’s side. How can you have nothing to say to me?”

Puzzled, Yuqing—who had never set foot in France—wondered if couples overseas truly lived that way.

“Truly…?”

Yuqing frowned slightly. “Perhaps I should…”

“If you dare suggest taking a concubine for me, I will drive straight back to Baizhou this very second and settle the score with you!”

Yuqing: “…”

Feeling quite helpless, he said, “I suppose you have a point. Which master doesn’t take several concubines? Now there is only me in this house, so you have no one else to torment.”

“Torment?! I—” Zhou Xiao sounded utterly wounded on the other end. “I long for you, I yearn for you, and you call that torment?! What do you take me for? To think I waited by the telephone all night for you…! I’m hanging up!”

A long silence followed.

Hearing him shouting earlier, Yuqing had held the earpiece at arm’s length. Hearing no sound now, he brought it back and listened hesitantly.

It was entirely quiet.

Had he not merely suggested hanging up because there was little left to discuss? Where had that grand lecture come from?

He found himself amused by the metal earpiece. Looking at the receiver with mild curiosity, he listened closely and said, “Could you connect me to the Bank of Shencheng?”

Zhou Xiao: “Hello.”

Yuqing smiled. “You didn’t hang up?”

“I was waiting for you to speak,” Zhou Xiao muttered.

“Are you a child?” A quiet chuckle slipped from Yuqing’s nose. “Always needing someone to coax you.”

“I only wanted to speak with you a little longer,” Zhou Xiao said. “Spouses are never supposed to sit across from one another in silence. What kind of marriage is ‘respecting each other like guests’?”

“Hmm?”

This was the difference between France and the old ways. At home, mutual respect was praised as an ideal virtue. Clearly, Zhou Xiao had no use for it; what he wanted was something Yuqing had never encountered, though it seemed Zhou Xiao was eager to teach him.

“Then I shall converse with you,” Yuqing sighed with mild resignation.

Zhou Xiao said, “Have the servants bring a rocking chair. Sit down, eat your breakfast, and talk to me. Even across this distance, I can keep you company.”

“Very well—” The tension left Yuqing’s brow, and a smile unconsciously curved his lips. “Very well. As long as you don’t shout into the receiver, I will humor you.”

The telephone sat in the study. Settling into the chair, Yuqing answered his questions one by one, just as requested.

“I have slept well these past few days; it hasn’t been too difficult. I line my robes with cloth and change them morning and afternoon so they don’t soak through. Qingming has been very well-behaved,” Yuqing said. “Not much like you.”

“Unlike me in what way?” Zhou Xiao asked.

“He doesn’t throw tantrums, doesn’t pick fights on purpose, and certainly doesn’t call me by my full name, Ruan Yuqing, to intimidate me.”

Zhou Xiao knew this was payback for using his full name earlier. He softened his voice at once, begging for quarter: “I was wrong. I won’t dare do it again, my good Qingqing.”

The endearment sounded absurdly mawkish to Yuqing’s ears, yet the corners of his mouth lifted all the same.

After listening for a while longer, whenever Zhou Xiao ran out of topics, he would simply ask, “Qingqing, what would you like to know about me?”

Yuqing had assumed the expensive telephone was meant for serious matters—either the railway or the Zhou family’s business—not for indulging in idle gossip. Was the gap between a government bank and a private bank truly this vast?

Rubbing his temples, Yuqing sighed. Just what was wrong with this young master?

What else could it be? Having grown up starved of security, Zhou Xiao had never known proper guidance. Now that he had a home of his own, he yearned to be tended to, loved, and even kept in line by his spouse. Yet he had never imagined how deeply steeped in the old ways Yuqing would be. In Yuqing’s mind, a man naturally took concubines and ventured out into the world to build an empire rather than lingering at home.

Yuqing found it equally baffling. In the old days—or even today—a man’s energies would be divided among many. Yet Zhou Xiao, shaped by modern foreign ideas, insisted on strict monogamy.

Yuqing had intended to review the ledgers during the day, but Zhou Xiao kept him tied to the telephone all morning. It was only when military dispatches began monopolizing the line that their conversation finally tapered off.

By the time Yuqing collected himself, it was already noon. The metal of the receiver was warm from being held against his ear.

Good heavens… how could a man be this clingy?

Though a man himself, when Yuqing resolved to become the young master’s wife, he had forfeited any notion of taking spouses of his own, willingly choosing to manage the household and look after the Zhou estate for the rest of his days. If Zhou Xiao refused to take concubines, what inner quarters would there be? Clearly, he would be the only one.

In this quiet, fading household, Qingming would be the sole child born to carry on the line.

Yuqing felt he had failed his father in this regard, and had even sent Butler Deng to burn incense on his behalf, offering an apology for his inability to bring concubines into the fold. Zhou Xiao had threatened him, after all—claiming that if he raised the matter again, he would throw his life away. Other men clamored for such arrangements, yet Zhou Xiao rejected them outright.

Yuqing could not truly let him come to harm. If there were to be no concubines, so be it; at worst, he would simply tell him to be gentle during intimacy so as not to trouble the child.

“Madam, you have an appointment with the newly arrived general today,” a servant stepped forward to report.

Zhao Fu had already gone to Qingming Bank to handle errands and review accounts.

Setting down the receiver, Yuqing extended a hand. A servant hurriedly offered an arm to steady him, guiding him back to the bedchamber to change. “Prepare the car.”

“Will you be going in person?”

“Yes.” Yuqing massaged his lower back, drawing a deep breath.

The child was growing heavier. His frame was naturally slight, and the swelling belly brought a pulling ache to his spine. A long gown could no longer conceal his pregnancy; beneath his flat chest, the rounded swell pressed firmly against the fabric. The physician had noted that the abdomen would only become prominent after the sixth month, yet Yuqing had already begun showing by the fourth.

The servants waited outside the chamber while he undressed. After taking off his sleeping robes, he searched the wardrobe, only to find not a single suitable gown remained; his usual garments had vanished.

The wardrobe, which had once been stacked high with layers of gowns, was now more than half empty. What remained were mostly thin summer fabrics from before his pregnancy, which would now constrict his belly painfully, making them unwearable. The altered, looser gowns were nowhere to be seen.

Yuqing: “…”

“Who has been tending to my wardrobe lately?”

A servant pushed the door open, keeping his head respectfully bowed. “Reporting to Madam, it was Xiao Cui.”

“Where is she?”

“She went to deliver your clothes.”

Yuqing paused. “To the laundry?”

“Pardon?” The servant looked equally puzzled. “No, Madam.”

“Then where are they?” Yuqing asked.

“The Master said the laundry staff was careless, and that given your delicate condition, your inner garments required special care. The clothes you wore over the past few days… were sent by car straight to Shencheng. He said they could only be brought back after he inspected them personally.”

Yuqing: “And have any been returned over these past few days?”

The servant shook his head. “None.”

Yuqing: “……”

“Go find a loose gown at once. Buy one from the tailor’s shop immediately.”

The servant took the order and dispatched someone without delay.

They had only been parted for a few days, and Zhou Xiao had managed to clear out his wardrobe!

What a shameless rogue. Anyone would think he was preparing to open a tailor’s shop. Why take so many of his clothes? He couldn’t possibly consume that many, could he?

Yuqing felt a mixture of annoyance, amusement, and sheer helplessness; even a child would not stoop to such antics.

Having stood for too long, he moved to the wooden table, resting his swollen belly against the edge to ease the ache in his back. Yuqing was not short—he was of average height for a man, merely slender from childhood privation—so his abdomen rested against the table’s edge without needing to stand on tiptoe.

Looking down at his rounded belly, the thought of his clothes being spirited away by the child’s father, leaving him stranded while servants fetched new attire, stirred a flicker of resentment.

The servant soon returned with the newly bought gown, and the car was brought around. Yuqing had always dressed simply; beneath a heavy fox-fur cloak in winter, nothing was visible. Underneath, he wore a plain black gown that draped to his ankles.

“Madam?” The servant attending him today was named Xiao Yue, bowing as he led the way to the car.

Stepping out of the bedchamber, Yuqing turned back toward the study. “Wait a moment.”

He placed a call to the provincial operator, who answered, “Hello, where would you like to be connected?”

“No need to connect me. Please relay a message to the number for the Bank of Shencheng.”

“Zezhi, you truly have no regard for me at all.”

The operator asked, “Just that single line?”

“Yes.”

With that, he stepped outside, got into the car, and set off for his appointment.

A newly garrisoned army signaled a shift in Baizhou’s fortunes. The Ruan family’s opium trade had faltered lately, leaving several of their private banks short on capital, while Ruan Hongtian had only just survived a gunshot wound. The Li family already held sway in the provincial administration, and the new garrison had undoubtedly met with them already. Caught in the middle, Qingming Bank had to make its move swiftly, or risk handing the port to the Li family on a silver platter.

The port currently generated hundreds of thousands of silver dollars in profit each day.

Yuqing had sent a formal calling card to the military yesterday in his capacity as the President of Qingming Bank. The other side had played coy without replying, only sending an acceptance this morning.

Yuqing chose Xianxiang Restaurant. As the host, it was only proper to bring guests to an established venue. Reserving a private box, he waited quietly.

From the afternoon onward, he sat by the upper window, watching the performance of Farewell My Concubine on the stage below. Evening came without any sign of his guest, and he tipped the performers downstairs.

It was not until past six o’clock that the sound of military boots echoed outside. Setting down his teacup, Yuqing looked up slowly.

“The General has pressing duties today and fears he has inconvenienced President Ruan. He asks that you take your leave.”

This was a deliberate slight, designed to wear down his patience. Yuqing took no offense, merely waving his hand to dismiss the soldier with a tip, lingering over his tea for a while longer before preparing to depart.

Business was always like this, whether dealing with officials or merchants: everything came down to profit and loss. If sincerity was not proven early on, partners were reluctant to commit. When he first opened Qingming Bank and entered the Chamber of Commerce, he had faced closed doors more than once.

Yuqing was not angered by the snub, though his condition made lingering difficult. Had he not been carrying a child, he could have waited until the end of time, leaving only when the general showed his face.

Evidently, this new general was not one to be easily handled. He lacked the old ties Jiang Sui had shared with him, making negotiations far more difficult.

A wave of weariness washed over Yuqing. The child gave a few sharp kicks against his belly, and he rested a palm over the swell. “Be good, little one.”

“I praised you for being well-behaved just this morning; why start fussing now?”

Sitting since the afternoon had left his calves and feet slightly swollen. The charcoal brazier in the private room burned hot, yet Yuqing had kept his cloak on all afternoon, wary of revealing his belly to military men who would undoubtedly look down on a male wife.

Only now, certain that no one was coming, did he unfasten the clasp. His pale cheeks were flushed with a faint pink, a sheen of perspiration dotting his nose.

Picking up a folding fan from the table, he snapped it open with a flick of his wrist, fanning himself gently.

By six o’clock on a winter evening in Baizhou, night had already fallen. By seven, the ground floor of Xianxiang Restaurant was packed to capacity for the lead performer’s entrance, the house resounding with cheers.

Yuqing had intended to head home after a brief rest. After receiving his tip, the owner had mentioned that once the main opera concluded, the lead actor would sing an excerpt from The Butterfly Lovers specially for him.

Since he had been stood up anyway, he was in no hurry to leave. Pushing open the box window, he looked down at the stage.

The private room had two windows, one facing front and one behind. Xianxiang Restaurant was laid out like an aviary, hollow in the center, with tiered private boxes ringing the stage below. Patrons in the boxes could toss their tips straight down to the ground floor.

Thump, thump— A knock sounded at the door.

“Enter,” Yuqing said languidly, fluttering his fan. Having sipped sweet tea all afternoon, his voice carried a thick, syrupy cadence.

Thump, thump—

The person outside had clearly heard his invitation, yet kept knocking.

If it were a servant delivering refreshments, the folding screen would have kept him hidden from view. Yet the servant posted outside had offered no announcement. Frowning slightly, Yuqing drew his cloak around himself and rose, quietly unclasping his holster and chambering a round. “Coming.”

Could the general have dealt with his guards outside, intending to silence him directly? Had an understanding already been reached with the Li family?

Taking a deep breath, Yuqing cracked the door open an inch, keeping his body angled.

With a sudden crash, the wooden door was shoved inward from the outside. Just as Yuqing raised the gun, the visitor moved far faster!

“Mmh—” Yuqing’s eyes widened as he was swept up into a pair of arms. The man brought with him the biting cold of the outdoors, his breathing heavy and ragged.

The man kissed him deeply, an intrusive tongue searching his mouth to taste whatever sweet tea he had been drinking, refusing to utter a word as he bit punishingly into his lips.

Recognizing the intruder, Yuqing’s fingers went slack. The pistol dropped from his hand, the metal striking the floorboards with a dull creak.

The kiss bordered on painful. The moment Yuqing parted his lips to catch his breath, the man sucked harder, drawing wet, shameless sounds from the contact. The more Yuqing pulled back, the fiercer the assault became. Unable to bear it, Yuqing tilted his head, only for the man to trail wet kisses down his jaw, his Adam’s apple, and along his collarbones.

Cradling his legs, the man hoisted Yuqing higher into his arms, locking him in an unyielding embrace. Suspended entirely in mid-air, Yuqing’s calves kicked weakly—an effort entirely futile against the man’s broad, powerful frame.

“Zhou Xiao—!” Yuqing finally laughed in exasperation. “Why have you come back?”

He pushed at Zhou Xiao’s cheeks, cupping and stroking his face, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Weren’t you in Shencheng?”

Driving from Shencheng to Baizhou took four hours at the very fastest. What had brought him rushing back?

Zhou Xiao looked down at him, his chest heaving, holding the soft warmth in his arms. Yuqing’s palms felt impossibly smooth, and Zhou Xiao could not resist nuzzling against them, pressing his nose affectionately into the hollow of Yuqing’s hand.

Yuqing’s weight was nothing to him. After a long silence, he demanded in a low, aggrieved tone, “How do I have no regard for you?”

Yuqing stared, stunned. “…”

“When have I ever disregarded you? You refused my calls, slipped out of the house, and came all the way to Xianxiang Restaurant to listen to opera? Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving the estate?”

Yuqing parted his lips, entirely robbed of words.

He had merely intended a light teasing, yet Zhou Xiao had not waited a single moment, driving straight back. Just because of that one sentence—a passing remark devoid of real malice, meant only to clarify what he had meant—he had turned right around…

Which meant that the moment he received the message, Zhou Xiao had gotten into his car and sped toward Baizhou.

Held tight in his arms, Zhou Xiao only had to lower his head for their noses to touch. This was perhaps the first time Yuqing had ever been rendered entirely speechless by another person.

“Just because of that?” Yuqing asked hesitantly.

Zhou Xiao countered, “What else?”

“We are already apart; must you torment me further?” Zhou Xiao’s dark pupils trembled faintly. “I came back the second you spoke—does that still count as having no regard for my Qingqing?”

“Hmm?” The man’s low voice vibrated against Yuqing’s ear.

Zhou Xiao’s tone was deep and resonant. Yuqing had heard pianos before; it sounded like the low register of the keys, rich with timbre yet drenched in shameless coaxing.

It made Yuqing want to laugh, yet also made him want to cradle the man’s head and grant him a kiss as a reward.

“You are too endearing,” Yuqing breathed, his lashes fluttering as he leaned closer to the man’s neck.

Zhou Xiao caught his own reflection in the depths of Yuqing’s eyes.

Being called endearing gave Zhou Xiao the sensation of being teased, yet catching sight of Yuqing’s smile made him feel the long drive had been worth every second. It was fortunate Yuqing had called; otherwise, he would have had no excuse to rush back.

“I told you, a man is not to be called endearing,” Zhou Xiao grumbled half-heartedly, leaning in to steal another kiss.

The more Yuqing tilted his head back, the more persistently Zhou Xiao pursued him. He caught Yuqing’s soft lips in a hurried embrace—a kiss frantic and devoid of restraint, yet rendered deeply consuming by Zhou Xiao’s desperate fervor.

“Zezhi…”

“Did my Qingqing miss me?”