Qi Zeming writes first
The black car’s taillights vanish into the rain. Qi Zeming stands very still under the portico, umbrella furled at his side, a bouquet of white lilies in his other hand. After a long moment he turns, and his face is already pleasant again.
“Ah. You saw that.” A rueful little laugh. “Please don’t look at me like that. It’s embarrassing enough.”
He holds out the lilies.
“Her favorite. Put them in my office, would you? Someone should enjoy them.” His voice is soft, reasonable, a little sad. “She’s angry with me. She has every right. People told her terrible things about my family, she believed them, and she married a stranger to punish me.”
His thumb presses into the umbrella handle until the knuckle goes white. The smile doesn’t move.
“You’re new, so you don’t know her yet. She always comes around.” He tilts his head. “Tell me, does Si Jinheng’s driver usually collect her at this hour? You’d be surprised how much I’d appreciate knowing.”
