At dawn, Shen Yi was jolted awake by a chorus of crowing roosters.
Still groggy, she opened her eyes to see the mottled rafters overhead. Then came the complicated smell rising from the quilt—a mixture of mildew and sunlight.
What a plain, unpretentious morning.
Shen Yi sat up in a hurry.
Most of the others were already awake.
Wen Ya and Shen Sixing were nowhere to be seen. They had probably gone off to chat with the neighbors.
The only person left in the room was Shen Wenta, sitting in despair on a chair. His back was ramrod straight, and he looked completely out of place in the old house.
Hearing Shen Yi stir, he turned his head and glanced at her. His lips moved, and he uttered two words.
“Filthy.”
Those two short words were filled with an undisguisable disgust that seemed to rise straight from the depths of his soul.
Without even looking up, Shen Yi shot back, “Keep whining, and Mom will beat you to death later.”
Shen Wenta’s expression darkened. He turned back to stare out the window, as though he could shut himself off from this miserable place that way.
Shen Yi ran to rummage through the toiletries in their suitcases, then took a basin and turned on the faucet to wash up.
After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she was just about to lie down again when Wen Ya’s voice came from the courtyard.
There was a rare note of excitement in her mother’s voice.
“Xiao Yi! Come out, quick!”
Confused, Shen Yi walked outside.
In the courtyard, Wen Ya was holding a woman’s hand, smiling so brightly that the corners of her eyes curved upward.
The woman had an exceptionally striking face—radiant and dignified. Her skin was as fair as a freshly peeled egg, and standing in the morning light, she seemed to glow all over.
Wen Ya eagerly took Shen Yi’s hand and pushed her daughter toward her old friend. “This is my daughter.”
The beautiful aunt looked down at Shen Yi and smiled warmly. There was something almost appraising in her friendly gaze. “What a cute girl. But she doesn’t look much like you, Xiaoya. Does she take after her father?”
Wen Ya smiled. “Perhaps.”
“Then where is your husband, Xiaoya?”
At the mention of the subject, Wen Ya’s expression stiffened, though she continued smiling.
“My husband isn’t here right now.”
“Isn’t here?”
“That’s right. He’s always disappearing without a trace.”
“Really? I heard a long time ago that you got married and had several children after leaving the village. Xiaoya, you should know that it wasn’t easy for us to escape this place.”
Xiu Yan spoke earnestly, advising her in the tone of someone who had been through it all. “You must stay away from men with inferior genes. Otherwise, they’ll only harm the next generation. Understand?”
Wen Ya pressed her lips into a small smile. “I know. That’s why my husband is very intelligent.”
Intelligent. Interesting. Her husband was perfect.
But Shen Sixing’s perfection only manifested under certain specific circumstances.
In most situations, no matter how you looked at him, he was simply an utterly unremarkable corporate wage slave.
“Is that so?” Xiu Yan asked skeptically.
Wen Ya nodded casually and changed the subject. “Xiu Yan, is that man your husband?”
Not far away stood a man in a dark-gray shirt, the sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows. A string of old sandalwood prayer beads circled his wrist, and he appeared to be resting with his eyes closed.
His features were handsome yet distant, as though each one had been carved stroke by stroke with a cold chisel—so exquisite that he hardly looked real.
From head to toe, from the tips of his hair to the toes of his leather shoes, he radiated two words: refined and distinguished.
As for that face… how should she put it?
Shen Yi looked him over and silently compared him with the other people she had seen.
Even among all of them, he could probably rank in the top five.
Shen Xun appeared silently behind her and offered his assessment with complete seriousness: “Highly symmetrical facial features, good skin, no obvious signs of aging. He looks like a super-rich man.”
Like Shen Sixing, he treated wealthy people with immense respect.
After all, as assassins, any rich person could be a potential client—or a potential target.
To sum it up—he loved rich people.
Shen Wenta had somehow made his way to the doorway as well. After watching coldly for two seconds, he commented, “Average.”
Xiu Yan took the man in front of her by the arm and pulled him to her side, her movements natural and intimate. “Look, Xiaoya. Isn’t this man handsome? He’s highly educated, his family owns a business, and even in a major city where every inch of land is worth its weight in gold, his family’s company ranks among the best.”
Her voice held undisguised pride, and she raised her chin slightly.
“Xiaoya, what does your husband do?”
“Does he have a steady job?”
“Is he retired?”
Wen Ya felt as though she had been turned into a nail. With every question from her friend, she was hammered farther and farther down, until she was driven completely into the earth. The blows left her utterly defeated, and her shoulders visibly drooped.
Wen Ya bit her lip. “My husband doesn’t have a job at the moment.”
“Retired?”
Wen Ya nodded weakly.
“Then what does he do?”
The corner of Wen Ya’s mouth twitched, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
After all, her friend’s husband had a job, was handsome, and came from a family that owned a business. And what did her own husband have?
—Ha-ha, my husband knows how to kill people?
It sounded far too deranged.
She could practically imagine Xiu Yan’s half-smiling, half-mocking expression upon hearing it.
Wen Ya forced a smile. “Let’s not talk about him.”
She swiftly changed the subject, her voice brightening considerably. “Xiu Yan, my darling got a perfect score on her exam this New Year!”
Wen Ya pulled Shen Yi over and proudly puffed herself up again.
Xiu Yan’s expression brightened as well. “Oh, who would’ve thought? You weren’t exactly the academic type, Xiaoya, but your daughter is actually so clever.”
With great enthusiasm, she stuffed a very thick red envelope into Shen Yi’s hands.
It was so stuffed that it felt heavy in her grip.
Wen Ya smiled gently. “Of course. This child is the hope of our entire family.”
Xiu Yan nodded along. The look she gave Shen Yi gradually filled with affection, as though she were gazing at the only university graduate to have ever emerged from the village.
Shen Yi felt her scalp prickle beneath that gaze.
The moment she received the red envelope, she hurriedly thanked her. “Thank you, Auntie.”
Then she spun around and fled, escaping this dangerous scene as quickly as possible.
She had just reached the courtyard gate when she ran into Shen Sixing, who had returned after being dragged off by Third Aunt to learn how to cook over a stove.
His sleeves were rolled up, and stove ash still clung to his hands. With his thin, lean build, he looked every inch the “supreme pauper.”
Shen Yi shuddered.
She quickly grabbed her father and dragged him back inside. “You’d better not go out there, Dad.”
With his looks, standing next to the capital’s Buddhist prince, he would be utterly crushed. Shen Yi couldn’t even imagine how terrifying her fiercely competitive mother’s expression would be by then.
Shen Sixing was a little confused. “Why?”
Shen Yi summed it up succinctly. “Mom’s friend’s husband is handsome, has a job, and comes from a family business.”
“So what?” Shen Sixing immediately gave a faintly mocking smile and argued his case. “So just because he’s handsome, you can discriminate against a hard-working professional murderer like me?”
“I believe respecting working people is also one of the traditional virtues of the Chinese nation.”
