Page 49 of He Is My Bride

Wang Guosheng went to the gym every morning as part of his strict regime. No matter what, no matter if it was the first day of the new year. There was no excuse.

He was perpetually disappointed in his family for lacking his level of discipline, but Wang Hao’s continuing mediocrity in particular had been a disgrace to his father’s name lately: to let himself be humiliated twice by the same foreign element?

Being publicly seen with upstart whores?

Beaten by Wu Hanjun? It made them all look weak.

Guosheng was lying on the bench, pressing a heavy barbell up with a grunt. His broad chest and arm muscles strained as he pushed himself. Sweat stained his tank top where it pooled on his solar plexus. He would have to keep pushing.

He got a phone call. He replaced the barbell on the hooks and crunched up, taking out his phone: it was his security.

“Talk.” He didn’t appreciate being interrupted unnecessarily.

“Mister Wang, you are being delivered a personal package.”

“I’m not expecting a delivery. Search it.”

“Yes, sir.” After a brief silence, Guosheng heard the man say to other people in the room, “You two, leave. ”

Wang Guosheng waited for another short while until the man spoke to him again, “Sir, I’m describing what I see: in the box there is a plastic bag, and in it are a fresh head of a pig and two butchered piglets.”

“Don’t touch anything, I’m coming.” Wang Guosheng ended the call and got up.

He showered before going to the checkpoint.

Once in the security office, he saw a large cardboard box on the table next to a small X-ray baggage scanner.

The box was unmarked except for his name and address handwritten on it.

Without stopping, he proceeded to the box and looked in.

It was as the man had described: an entire head of a pig and two suckling pigs.

They seemed professionally butchered, fresh.

Their dead, bleary eyes seemed to taunt him.

Without a warning, Wang Guosheng grabbed the pig’s snout and pushed his bare hand inside its mouth, feeling around.

“Mister Wang?”

Nothing. Guosheng grabbed each piglet, turned them around, and felt around their gutted insides. Nothing. No other message. But he just knew:

Wu.

—

The city was full of performances and fireworks displays, lion and dragon dancers, and festival goers took over the streets, and people visited temples and their families. To Li Ying, this was a proper celebration.

At noon, Hanrong picked them up and he, Hanjun, and Li Ying went together to visit the three family matriarchs to wish them a happy New Year and to bring a traditional gift of mandarins for prosperity.

They started at Madam Wu’s, where Yiyi was also visiting with his family. They dropped in for tea, and little Madam Wu offered them cream prune candies from a decorated tin. Li Ying saw Yiyi struggle to eat ‘one more’ as his great-grandmother kept pushing them.

Next up was Madam Wang.

Hanrong rang the doorbell, and Li Ying could hear the familiar sound of barking inside. The one who opened the door…

Wang Guosheng.

It was odd to see him dressed down and domestic in a black cardigan, and a fur ball of a dog in his arms—one of his mother’s Malteses. The sight of that man holding something so cute so gently was outright grotesque to Li Ying.

“Ah, Wu Hanjun, Wu Hanrong. Li Ying.” Wang Guosheng smiled crookedly. “Too bad you didn’t arrive sooner, I was just about to leave.”

“Is it the Wus, Guosheng?” called Madam Wang from inside.

“Don’t get up, I’ll see them in.” Wang Guosheng stepped aside. “Please.”

Li Ying, refusing to let yesterday’s events get the better of him, refusing to show weakness, smiled at Wang Guosheng—too widely and the smile didn’t reach his eyes, but in the end it wasn’t his intention to make the Wang family head think he was actually being courteous to him.

“Hello, Wang Guosheng. Once more, happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year, Missy Li.”

“Please address me as ‘Miss Li’ or by my full name,” Li Ying said, and it wasn’t a question.

Wang Guosheng eyed him amusedly, but Li Ying stared right back, unflinching.

“Alright, Miss Li,” Wang Guosheng said and nodded at Hanjun, who returned the gesture stiffly. Neither said a word. Wang Guosheng left.

In the lounge, Madam Wang wasn’t doing too hot, obviously hungover and medicating herself with some hair of the dog: a bottle of brandy was on the coffee table.

Li Ying felt sorry for her, and not just for today.

He wondered if she had had this problem for long, if Wang Guosheng had grown up with an alcoholic mother.

With Wang Guosheng gone, Li Ying would have been just fine staying a while, but they were to have lunch at Grandmother Linming’s soon and Madam Wang wasn’t feeling her best, so their visit remained brief.

They left her with her mandarins and brandy and moved on to Wu Yiheng’s and Grandmother Linming’s place.

“Happy New Year, Auntie!” Li Ying then turned to Wu Yiheng. “Happy New Year Uncle—Mister Wu!”

“Prosperity, Missy Li.”

Uncle Yiheng can call me Missy all he wants. “Thank you for a wonderful dinner last evening, everything was super! ”

“Hmm. Happy you enjoyed it.”

Is it just wishful thinking, or is Uncle sounding less hostile today? It was hard to say, he was a Wu; one had to determine a lot from the smallest change in his tone.

They sat down for a light vegetarian lunch—meat wasn’t traditionally eaten on New Year’s Day—and talked about pleasant things.

“Thank you for playing the flute yesterday, Li Ying, it was very lovely. Hanjun.”

Hanjun looked at his grandmother.

“Why don’t you tune up your old violin upstairs? You haven’t played in a long time, we would all like to hear you play!”

Hanjun looked down thoughtfully.

“Yes!” Li Ying clapped enthusiastically and beamed at Hanjun. “Please play for me Junjun! I want to hear you play!”

Hanjun’s guarded expression softened. He nodded. “After lunch.”

“Yay!”

When they were finished eating, everyone moved to the parlor, and Hanrong made tea at Wu Yiheng’s request. Unlike the English-style tea Li Ying had had with the matriarchs, the Wus practiced the traditional Chinese way of tea .

Hanjun always made his tea this way, and to Li Ying the various cups and tools had become familiar, as had the motions Hanrong now went through.

Li Ying still didn’t understand it though.

To him it all seemed unnecessarily complicated when one could just boil water and toss in a teabag.

Li Ying knew better than to say that out loud in Wu Yiheng’s presence though, as he had already received a judgmental gaze from Hanjun for that very comment early on in their relationship.

Hanjun had gone on a whole tangent, which Li Ying couldn’t even recall: bla-bla-bla tea something-something contemplation.

But having followed Hanjun while he prepared his tea over the course of their relationship, always in this same way, Li Ying had become so familiar with the process that it brought him comfort to follow this simple ritual.

It made him think of his beloved. Li Ying realized both Hanjun and Hanrong must have learned it from Uncle Yiheng.

Hanrong poured Li Ying tea, and he accepted it with thanks.

After a while Hanjun rejoined them, carrying a beautifully varnished violin.

“Managed to tune it?” Hanrong asked.

“Mm.” Hanjun took a wider stance and placed the instrument on his shoulder, slotting his chin on the rest.

“What will you play for us?” asked Grandmother Linming.

“Schubert, Serenade.”

Hanjun’s thin, long fingers descended on the strings gently, like falling white chrysanthemum petals, his other hand holding the bow elegantly, and those hands began making something like magic.

The movement of his hands was so beguiling, the tilt of his wrists so elegant.

Li Ying was as if transported back in time, the fragrance of fine tea and the tender notes of the violin making him imagine himself in a noble court of some kind.

This was the Wu elegance. Not all the expensive cars or clothes or homes, but the education, manners, and culture. Li Ying was humbled in a way no expensive car, watch or wardrobe could humble him, and for the first time, he wondered if he was worthy of all this .

He peered at Wu Yiheng, finding that the Wu patriarch was looking at him with unreadable eyes. Li Ying met his gaze, then lowered his head respectfully.

Wu Hanjun has chosen me, Li Ying thought, and that was that. He was worthy.

Once the last oscillating note of the strings had vanished, Hanrong offered Hanjun tea, and Grandmother Linming praised her grandsons to the heavens.

After tea, the grandsons and Li Ying were making their leave. Hanjun packed the violin in its case and carried it with him to the hall.

“Finally taking it with you?” Hanrong asked.

“Good,” Grandmother Linming said, “you should play more.”

“We could play a duet sometime!” Li Ying enthused.

Hanjun said nothing, but smiled. He thought he would enjoy that.

They bid farewell to the elders, and Hanrong suggested they go watch the festivities now that the day’s formalities had been seen to.

The two cousins and Li Ying spent the day in town and ate dinner out together.

“Why did you stop playing?” Li Ying asked Hanjun while they ate hot pot. Hanjun didn’t respond for a while. He had to take time to form it into words:

“For a long time, I didn’t feel like I was doing it because I wanted to.”

“Oh. I hope I didn’t push you today?”

Hanjun smiled, gently shaking his head. “No. When you played the flute yesterday, I remembered I used to enjoy playing music and I wanted to play today, for you.”

Li Ying smiled at Hanjun, leaning his head to his hands as he rested his elbows on the table. “You can play more for me.”

“Sure. ”

Hanrong smiled fondly at his cousin. “It’s like you’re happier these days, Hanjun.” Hanrong then turned that smile to Li Ying. “And I think Li Ying has a lot to do with it.”

Li Ying felt warm. “Sometimes it helps to be away for a while, to remember what used to make you happy. Hanjun just happened to pick me up on the way.”

“No,” Hanjun said and caressed Li Ying’s arm. “It’s you.”

Li Ying swallowed hard on the lump in his throat. “Stop it, silly melon.” He poked Hanjun’s arm with his chopsticks.

“Behave,” Hanjun gently reprimanded and Li Ying blushed, hiding his face behind his hand.

Hanrong chuckled at their playful bickering. “By the way,” he said, “there’s much speculation whether you two will come to the cocktail party tomorrow.”

“So, what’s up with that, huh, Hanjun?” Li Ying looked at him sternly. “You said nothing about a party, but I saw the invitation on your table.”

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go,” Hanjun said. “I meant to ask.” However, he seemed embarrassed.

“Or you didn’t want to go?”

Hanjun frowned. “I’m indifferent. I did mean to ask you.”

It was true that Hanjun wasn’t much of a party person, and the invitation had been the last thing on his mind when Li Ying got back to Shanghai.

It’s not that he forgot, but it was at the bottom of his list of priorities.

He should have remembered that parties were at the top of Li Ying’s, and now Hanjun felt ashamed for not bringing it up sooner.

“You know, a girl would need more time to prepare for a themed party,” Li Ying saids “so even if you asked me yesterday, it would have been too late. Now I have to overwork Anne. Oh well, at least you’re the one who pays her hours.”

“I will apologize to Miss Lü,” Hanjun said, adequately humbled.

Hanrong laughed. “Miss Li is a very convincing Shanghai-lady.”

Li Ying blinked and turned to Hanjun. “Am I nagging at you? I’m not nagging, am I?”

Hanjun blushed. His voice was soft: “No.”

“I was nagging, wasn’t I?” Li Ying said apologetically.

“Mm.” Hanjun looked down and his blush deepened. Maybe he was a whipped Shanghai husband—and maybe he liked it.

Hanrong laughed.