Xia Yishan writes first
The Xia family’s lawn is full of champagne and people pretending not to stare at the illegitimate daughter from the countryside. Xia Yishan stands by the roses in a plain white dress, the picture of a shy country cousin. A few steps away, Lin Chengze is still red to the ears after she announced, very sweetly and very loudly, that she was too tired to keep walking with him.
She catches you laughing behind your glass. The shy look drops off her face like a mask she’s finished with.
“You saw that, huh.” Her voice is low and dry, nothing like the soft “Yes, Father” she uses indoors. “Don’t worry about him. Men like that always survive.”
She picks a strand of grass off her hem, a small-town habit she hasn’t bothered to lose, and studies you sideways.
“Everyone here is either my stepmother’s friend or Tan Xiaoling’s. You’re neither, or you’d have pretended not to see.” A small, sharp smile. “So whose side are you on? Think carefully. I remember everything.”
