At the New Year’s Day family banquet, the Zhou family’s third branch was, for once, fully present.
Madam Zhou and the Third Miss had just returned from vacation, their skin lightly tanned by the sun. They reclined lazily and elegantly on a deep brown European-style sofa, chatting and laughing with everyone—yet not sparing Zhou Ruo An a single proper glance.
Zhou Ruo An, however, eagerly tried to join in, forcing smiles and inserting himself into every topic. But whenever he spoke, the atmosphere cooled noticeably. His words would hang midair with no one picking them up, making him look like a clueless clown with no sense of the mood, forced into an awkward retreat.
At such moments, genuine amusement would finally appear on Madam Zhou’s face. Her well-manicured fingers sifted through the fruit box, selecting a candied hawthorn and popping it into the Third Miss’s mouth.
Perhaps it was too sour—the girl made a playful grimace, her seaweed-like curls bouncing lightly on her shoulders, an undeniably pretty sight.
For some reason, Madam Zhou suddenly grew displeased again. She set the fruit box down sharply, had Zhou Zhe help her up, and walked to the dining table. Her figure was not exactly slender, yet she settled gracefully into her seat. With a slight lift of her deeply creased eyelids, she ordered, “Serve the meal.”
The servants moved silently, and everyone took their seats. Under this roof, Madam Zhou’s words seemed to carry even more weight than Zhou Jing Tao’s.
Zhou Jing Tao sat at the head of the table. Beside Madam Zhou sat the Third Miss, who attentively served her tea and dishes, painting a picture of a loving mother and filial daughter.
Zhou Ruo An sat at the far end of the long table, with few dishes in front of him. He had never liked this kind of banquet—watery, bland, and tasteless, like letting out a fart in a room ten meters across, the smell diluted so badly that you could no longer tell whether it was fragrant or foul.
So he barely touched his chopsticks, yet still inserted himself into the lively conversation and courted rejection. Zhou Ruo An knew that in certain respects he had already appeared far too shrewd, so in some situations he deliberately used feigned foolishness and ignorance to blunt that conspicuous sharpness.
Just like now.
During the meal, Zhou Zhe’s secretary, Fu Chun Shen, arrived to deliver some documents. A top graduate of Columbia Law School, he was tall, lean, and clean-cut. He habitually kept his gaze lowered, giving him an air of rigor and humility.
After offering a few festive New Year greetings, he stepped forward, bowed slightly, and handed the documents to Zhou Zhe. Zhou Zhe glanced over them briefly, uncapped a pen, and signed his name.
As it was a holiday, an outsider had no reason to linger. Fu Chun Shen prepared to leave, but just as he reached the door, a voice stopped him.
“Secretary Fu, you’ve been in my room before, haven’t you?”
The question came abruptly. The room fell silent; even the faint clinking of tableware ceased.
Zhou Ruo An still wore that same smile. In the absolute silence, he asked again, “A few days ago, while I was out, you sneaked into my bedroom. Was there something you needed?”
Caught off guard, Fu Chun Shen hesitated, his eyes flicking subtly toward Zhou Zhe beneath lowered lids.
Zhou Zhe remained composed, detached as ever. He picked up his chopsticks, took a piece of celtuce, chewed, then set his chopsticks down. The crisp sound of the bamboo chopsticks striking the porcelain rest broke the heavy silence.
Fu Chun Shen slowly straightened. For the first time, he met Zhou Ruo An’s gaze directly and replied in a steady, proper tone, “I went back to the house to retrieve documents for the Second Young Master. I entered the wrong room by mistake—the Fourth Young Master’s room. My apologies.”
“Entered the wrong room?” Zhou Ruo An chuckled. “You’ve worked under Second Brother for four years, yet you can still mistake his room? That makes me question your professional competence.”
Fu Chun Shen remained calm. “People are not always in their best state. Mistakes can happen.”
“That’s true.” Zhou Ruo An nodded, his gaze drifting before landing briefly on the old steward standing in the corner. “Not in your best state, entered the wrong room, then used a spare key to unlock my door, used tweezers to pick a few strands of hair from my pillow, put them into a bag, and quietly left?”
Amid the shocked looks of those present, Zhou Ruo An picked up his chopsticks as well, placed a piece of some green vegetable he could not identify into his mouth, and crunched loudly. “The place I used to live in wasn’t safe. Petty thieves often broke in, so I installed surveillance cameras to guard against them. When I moved here, I couldn’t bear to throw them away, so I brought them along. Who would’ve thought Secretary Fu would show up in the footage? Quite surprising.”
He swallowed the vegetable and set down his chopsticks. The bamboo chopsticks struck the rest hard enough to make it tremble slightly.
Zhou Ruo An’s tone turned sharp. “Fu Chun Shen—why did you steal my hair?”
The room fell silent once more. Fireworks and firecrackers were prohibited in the villa district halfway up the mountain. Even on New Year’s Day, it was quiet outside, making the silence indoors even more suffocating.
Everyone present understood exactly whom Fu Chun Shen served—and whom Zhou Ruo An was really targeting. Countless glances fell upon the Second Young Master’s seat. Even the slightest change in pressure from the hand holding the ebony bead bracelet was silently observed.
After a long moment, someone finally spoke.
“I was the one who wanted your blood relationship with the Zhou family tested again.”
Her plump fingers held a spoon, slowly stirring the milky-white soup. Madam Zhou lifted her eyelids slightly, her tone laced with undisguised mockery. “There are many swindlers these days. One has to be cautious. Especially when it comes to bloodline—we can’t let petty opportunists exploit any loopholes.”
“Swindler?” Zhou Ruo An first furrowed his brows, then lowered his eyes. His expression turned quiet, almost sorrowful.
Ignoring etiquette, he lit a cigarette. “I helped you deliver gifts to Grandpa Jin, only to be coaxed away and chased off with his cane. I resolved the electronics factory shutdown, only to be surrounded by villagers wielding hoes. I’ve done everything I could and put in all my effort to fit into this family. Yet in your eyes, I’m still just a swindler.”
He slowly extended his wrist, removed the expensive watch, and gently placed it on the table. “Since this family can’t accept me, there’s no reason for me to stay.”
With that, he took the cigarette from his mouth and walked out. As he passed Fu Chun Shen, he blew a stream of smoke into his face. Hearing him cough lightly, Zhou Ruo An spoke as if scolding a dog. “Don’t block the way. Move.”
“Wait.”
Someone stopped him. The deep voice carried a trace of displeasure. Zhou Jing Tao’s expression darkened as he tapped two fingers against the table. “What are you making a scene for during New Year? Just because you accomplished something, you think you can throw a tantrum?”
The one being criticized was, unexpectedly, Zhou Ruo An.
Zhou Jing Tao, now past fifty, resembled the child with the worst logic in a kindergarten class trying to solve a problem—skipping over Madam Zhou, who had already admitted she was the instigator, and instead turning to Fu Chun Shen. “Since the DNA test has already been done, report the result.”
Fu Chun Shen’s grip tightened slightly on his briefcase. He cast another subtle glance toward Zhou Zhe.
“Have I lost the authority to command you?” Zhou Jing Tao’s tone grew colder.
Madam Zhou stroked the jade bracelet on her wrist and drawled, “Go on. Let everyone hear it.”
With both masters having spoken, Fu Chun Shen fell silent for another moment. Seeing that Zhou Zhe made no move, he finally opened his briefcase and took out a document.
“According to the testing institution’s examination, the Fourth Young Master and President Zhou…”
Fu Chun Shen turned the document around, placed it on the dining table, and pushed it forward. “The result is that Mr. Zhou Ruo An and Mr. Zhou Jing Tao have a biological relationship.”
“What?!” Madam Zhou’s brows shot up, her gaze cutting sharply toward Zhou Zhe. “He… this is real?”
Zhou Ruo An’s sneer hid beneath the shadow of his lashes. In his ears, he seemed to hear again the low hum of machinery.
A pale, lifeless face slowly surfaced in his memory, standing before a mirror with electric hair clippers in hand.
It was Zhang Jin.
Zhou Ruo An saw himself from a few months ago, his face caught at the edge of the mirror. After hesitating again and again, he had finally said, “Shaving your head… won’t work. DNA testing requires hair follicles.”
That night, the sterile bag had been filled with handful after handful of hair. Zhang Jin, who never looked in mirrors, seemed to make up in a single night for all the mirrors he had neglected throughout his life.
Zhou Ruo An had crouched outside the bathroom, fiddling with a cigarette. He smoked until his voice turned hoarse. So when Zhang Jin handed him the bag and threatened, “If this fails, even as a ghost I’ll tear your scalp off,” Zhou Ruo An had only given a soft “Mm.”
His hoarse voice sounded almost like a sob, but neither Zhang Jin nor Zhou Ruo An himself believed that.
It was absurd. Complete bullshit.
Back in the lavish hall, Zhou Zhe fell silent for a moment under his mother’s blunt questioning. Then he slowly stood, walked to the end of the table, picked up the watch Zhou Ruo An had taken off, and smiled as he took Zhou Ruo An’s hand.
“The truth is the truth. No matter how many times it’s tested, it won’t change. Besides, our Fourth Brother isn’t afraid of being tested.”
The watch was slipped back onto his wrist. The cold touch against his skin felt like a snake’s tongue winding around him.
Lowering his voice, Zhou Zhe whispered into Zhou Ruo An’s ear, “Don’t blame Madam. If she wants to test, let her. Once she’s reassured, she’ll treat you well—just like she does Third Sister.”
Zhou Ruo An glanced at the Third Miss, who was also an illegitimate child. Her gaze was cold and mocking, as though she were watching a show from the sidelines.
Looking away, Zhou Ruo An adjusted his watch, his expression easing. “I don’t blame Madam. If it were me, I’d want reassurance too. But why go through the trouble of stealing hair? You could’ve just pulled it straight from my head.”
“Yes, Secretary Fu’s method was inappropriate.”
“Then he should be punished?” Zhou Ruo An smiled again, immediately overturning his own suggestion. “Forget it. It’s New Year. Grandpa Jin taught me to be tolerant. I’ll bear this grievance myself.”
The moment Zhou Ruo An invoked Grandpa Jin, not punishing Fu Chun Shen was no longer an option. Everyone sitting in that room, human or ghost, understood perfectly well what he meant.
Zhou Jing Tao made the decision. “Secretary Fu handled this improperly. Deduct his bonus for this year and send him to the Human Resources Center to await reassignment for three months. After three months, he can compete for his position again alongside the new employees. If he learns how to do his job, he can come back. If not, then he doesn’t need to step through Shengkai’s doors again.”
By the time Zhou Jing Tao finished speaking, Zhou Ruo An had already returned to his seat. The bland vegetables tasted no different than before, but paired with Zhou Zhe’s ashen expression, they suddenly seemed a little more flavorful.
＊
By the time the family banquet ended, it was already past ten at night. The latter half of the meal had been almost entirely silent. Only the Third Miss occasionally made a joke, but even that failed to coax another smile from Madam Zhou.
Zhou Ruo An got into the car and glanced at Ren Yu, who was acting as his driver. “Did you buy the food?”
“Bought it.” Ren Yu tilted his head toward the back seat. “An unmarked little shop in Third Alley in the old district. Only four dishes. They’re all here.”
Zhou Ruo An felt drained, like a rubber band that had been stretched too tight for too long and finally lost its elasticity. Slumping into the passenger seat, he lazily asked, “How many days has Lin Yi been locked up?”
“Three days.” Ren Yu swallowed nervously. “He’ll be alright, won’t he?”
Zhou Ruo An chuckled lightly. “Why ask me? Ask Baidu.”
Elio’s Notes: Baidu is a major Chinese internet search engine, commonly used much like Google.
“I did. It said his endocrine, cardiovascular, and digestive systems could all develop problems.”
Zhou Ruo An pressed his fingers against his temple, massaging it. “Will he die?” He scoffed softly. “As long as he won’t die, it’s fine. Did you think I locked him up so he could enjoy himself?”
“Let’s go.” He glanced back at the Zhou residence and said calmly, “There’s still another tough battle to fight tonight.”