Chapter 43: The Scoundrel

December 8, 2012.
Saturday morning.

Zhang Shutong yawned as he opened his eyes. He had not slept well the night before. He was the type of person who was sensitive to unfamiliar beds; after just two nights in his own home, he was beginning to get used to it, only to move again last night.

The mattress here was very soft, sinking slightly under his weight—it was still unfamiliar to him.

He drew back the curtains, and the winter morning sunlight made him squint slightly.

The air was filled with mist, and the artificial turf outside still seemed to hold droplets of water. Only now did he truly see the mountain villa’s real appearance.

He opened the window for some fresh air; the chill was invigorating.

It was a morning that lifted one’s spirits.

He quickly finished washing up and pushed open the door. The corridor and the view outside presented two entirely different scenes. Inside was a narrow, enclosed space, and looking down, he saw a deep brown wool carpet laid solidly beneath his feet, filling his view. But when he looked up...

There was a girl.

A young woman with a noble, classical air stepped out into the corridor.

She seemed to have just woken, not yet washed, squinting her usually lively eyes and furrowing her brows. Her hair was a little tousled, with a few strands playfully sticking to her rosy lips.

She was still wearing the velvet sleeprobe, the deep crimson fabric contrasting sharply with her pale skin. The robe was no longer neatly arranged as it had been the night before; now it was draped askew, yet it did not conceal her slender figure, except around the chest where it bulged noticeably.

“Morning,” Zhang Shutong nodded toward Gu Qiumian. The scene reminded him of the bright view he had glimpsed outside the window not long ago, as if the stifling atmosphere of the corridor had suddenly lifted.

“Mm... morning,” Miss Gu mumbled vaguely, then abruptly stopped in her tracks.

Time seemed to freeze.

He saw her eyes widen slowly, and the small cherry mouth, with hair still stuck to it, formed a perfect ‘O,’ as if she had witnessed something unbelievable.

At the same moment, her strikingly pale face flushed visibly, and with an exclamation, she quickly retreated back behind the door.

The noble girl seemed to transform instantly into a fleeing princess, while Zhang Shutong resembled a knight from an enemy kingdom chasing her, utterly disarming Miss Gu.

The heavy door slammed shut, restoring silence to the corridor, prompting two thoughts in Zhang Shutong’s mind:

First, no wonder her skin was so fair and smooth like jade—it was because her facial skin was literally thin.

Second, it seemed... she had forgotten after waking up that she was staying here.

How silly.

Zhang Shutong had heard of morning grumpiness but was witnessing morning forgetfulness for the first time.

He took the elevator downstairs, where he found Lao Song chatting with the housekeeper, already dressed and looking sharp in a white shirt ironed so perfectly it made him seem like a professional elite. The man chuckled heartily from time to time.

Lao Song really looked quite presentable once tidied up.

“Shutong, how did you sleep last night?”

Unfortunately, the next moment gave him away, as the homeroom teacher winked at him with a mischievous grin.

“Not great.”

“That’s understandable. I think if you managed to fall asleep at all, that’s some serious willpower.”

He gave a knowing smile, the kind adults use when dealing with kids, then put on a serious face, upholding his teacherly responsibilities:

“By the way, I just heard Qiumian cry out earlier. What kind of mischief are you up to again? This is her home, you know—I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”

But the words sounded off to Zhang Shutong, as if implying that mischief was only forbidden in her house.

So he calmly explained:

“She seems to have forgotten that we’re staying here.”

If Qingyi and the others were around, Zhang Shutong would have made a more vivid comparison: it was like a trainer waking up to find Squirtle had evolved into Wartortle overnight, blushing in surprise.

---

Lao Song showed a “Is that all?” expression, but the housekeeper nearby chuckled and explained, “Qiumian has low blood sugar and often feels dizzy when she wakes up. Did she scare you?”

The housekeeper was a woman in her early forties, short in stature, with wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, exuding a quiet and kind demeanor.

“No, not at all,” Zhang Shutong replied, keeping it brief but polite, especially after noticing his freshly washed clothes waiting on the sofa. “I forgot to thank you last night—the noodles were delicious.”

“No problem. If you want some again, just tell Qiumian. You two continue chatting; I’ll go check on her,” she said, nodding to Lao Song before leaving. Only the two men remained in the living room.

Zhang Shutong considered that Gu Qiumian must have a close relationship with her housekeeper; otherwise, she wouldn’t be called by her nickname.

They then discussed business briefly. Lao Song mentioned the police had called back that morning and confirmed it was someone from the commercial street behind the incident. He planned to go to the station for a statement later.

“We didn’t come back empty-handed yesterday. This counts as a big success,” Lao Song stretched lazily. “I heard even the city leaders got involved. With those five people as an example, anyone else unhappy with her family will think twice before causing trouble.”

Zhang Shutong nodded; it was definitely a warning to others.

He asked how they planned to deal with the five culprits. Lao Song said that intentional arson attempts wouldn’t be let off easily. There were plans to pursue even harsher charges, but the final decision would wait for Qiumian’s father’s return.

“Her father called back?”

“Yes, this morning. Actually, he was told about the commercial street incident yesterday, so he sent trusted people over. They might arrive as soon as tomorrow.

“He’s coming back later himself but booked an overnight flight, saying business is off for now.”

“Business?” Zhang Shutong whispered, curious.

“It’s mainly about business. Everything else is secondary. Come, let’s step outside,” Lao Song said, leading him outdoors. “How to put it—her father is a man with such wealth and status that hardly anyone can control him. Moral constraints don’t really apply in the real world. But the thing is, he’s never remarried all these years. Even if he has other affairs, they’re mostly for business trips abroad. In a way, it shows where his priorities lie: no matter how vast the world, his daughter comes first.”

Lao Song launched into a manly reflection:

“A person wears many hats. Sometimes men can be jerks, but when they’re fathers, they can still be relied upon.”

Zhang Shutong understood. To sum up: Boss Gu clearly puts his daughter first, which was a relief.

Lao Song added:

“I reckon Qiumian’s feelings about all this are complicated. Best not to ask questions that aren’t meant to be asked.”

Naturally.

Zhang Shutong nodded.

Unexpectedly, Lao Song gave a meaningful look and said:

“Just don’t turn into such a jerk yourself, kid.”

Zhang Shutong rolled his eyes and went back inside, not bothering to respond to such a pointless remark.

He wondered how the conversation veered onto himself. Besides, if being a jerk were so easy, he’d first need a girl standing in front of him.

---

The next time Zhang Shutong saw Gu Qiumian was at breakfast. She sat directly across from him.

Unfortunately, perhaps because he had seen her “unpolished” morning look, Miss Gu felt embarrassed and glared at him.

Breakfast was bacon and meat patties, along with several cold dishes, a blend of East and West. She had returned to her noble lady demeanor, holding her knife and fork elegantly, though she seemed to be struggling with the meat patties, cutting them first into strips, then into smaller pieces.

This would be their last meal at the Gu family villa. After eating, they planned to leave.

Lao Song had initially wanted to take them out to explore the island, but with the crisis resolved and Gu Qiumian safe, he no longer insisted. Besides, he had to visit the police station that morning and would just take Zhang Shutong into town afterward.

As for Zhang Shutong, he too was busy that morning. Ruo Ping had already been pestering him on QQ to meet in front of Bei Yi Mall for some shopping and strolling. She bombarded him with messages, insisting it had to be kept secret from Du Kang and couldn’t be mentioned in their small group chat.

Because today’s event was only for her, Qingyi, and himself—the idea was to surprise the other party.

Even though it was Du Kang’s birthday, he was mercilessly excluded.

Zhang Shutong thought everyone understood the situation perfectly. Take Du Kang, for example: on a usual weekend, he wouldn’t be able to stay quiet in the group chat, always making noise. But today, he hadn’t posted a single panda emoji or message, staying remarkably calm, as if saying, “You guys go ahead; I know nothing.”

The day was calm and peaceful. Zhang Shutong ate the most sumptuous breakfast he could remember in recent times, stuffing bacon into his mouth while freeing one hand to type, when Gu Qiumian suddenly asked, “Who are you chatting with?”

“Friends,” he replied.

She snorted and said, “I bet it’s Feng Ruo Ping. So, did she invite you out?”

---

Women’s intuition was terrifying. Zhang Shutong nodded in agreement, and Gu Qiumian fell silent.

“What about you? Any plans today?” he asked politely.

“Not decided yet. Probably just stay at home,” she rolled her eyes. “Where else would I go?”

“What about your friends?”

“Don’t want to see them.”

“I thought you’d go out with them, like usual.”

“Not in the mood today.”

So that was a symptom of low blood sugar.

Zhang Shutong said no more and finished his breakfast, habitually going to wash his dishes.

From the kitchen window, he could see the artificial lawn again, but the shadow he’d seen last night was gone—the poisoned guard dog had been taken away by the police.

The lawn looked clean.

Beyond was a desolate wilderness, overgrown with withered grass, shrouded in a cold, silent mist that obscured the horizon.

Only then—despite the villa’s full furnishings—did Zhang Shutong remember it was built in the island’s most remote corner.

December 8, 2012, Saturday.

The early bird catches the worm. Before the morning passed, their day’s plans were already set.

Lao Song would go to the police station for his statement.

He would go shopping with his close friends.

Gu Qiumian would stay alone in the villa, or so she said.

After a moment gazing at the misty landscape outside, Zhang Shutong, having lost interest in the TV, returned to the table.

Lao Song had just stepped outside to take a call and was yet to return for breakfast, so they still had time.

Gu Qiumian ate absentmindedly, chewing quietly without speaking, displaying the composure of a refined lady.

Bored, Zhang Shutong rested one arm on the table and asked:

“Have you decided what to do at home today?”

“Play piano or watch a movie,” she replied.

“The yolk’s spilling,” Zhang Shutong warned, cutting fried eggs with a knife was a waste.

“Why are you always watching me eat?”

Zhang Shutong acknowledged with a nod and turned his gaze back to the lawn outside.

Her home was fully decorated, yet the only drawback was the lack of magazines. In such a remote place, newspapers couldn’t be delivered, making it quite dull.

Bored, Zhang Shutong rested his chin on his hand:

“By the way, I have a few movie recommendations.”

“No need. I don’t have time to watch.”

“Very busy?”

“Very busy,” she continued to struggle with the meat patty on her plate.

“Then stop being so busy.”

Glancing once more at the mist-covered wilderness outside, the boy shifted his gaze and invited the girl opposite him:

“Come with me later.”