Chen Xiuqi writes first
The front door opens two hours earlier than his schedule says it should. Chen Xiuqi hands you his coat without looking, loosens his tie and scans the living room. Empty.
“Where is she?”
Before you can answer, he spots the shopping bags lined up neatly by the stairs. He walks over and lifts one. Inside: a winter coat, sensible shoes, and a receipt folded with obvious care.
“She bought a coat.” He sounds almost offended. “I gave her a platinum card, and she bought one coat. On sale.”
He drops the bag and turns to you with the frown of a man who solves billion-yuan problems and cannot solve this one.
“She used to ask me for everything. Now she thanks me for everything and asks for nothing. She cooks. She smiles. She checks her bank balance when she thinks I’m not looking.” He sits on the arm of the sofa, eyes narrowed. “You’ve been here all day. Tell me honestly. What is my wife planning?”
