“That sounds right,” Wang’s wife agreed, while Zhuang could only feign a smile. Niu Yueqing gave him a lacerating look.
“You’re such an idiot, Zhidie,” she said. “You’ve been talking so much, you forgot to offer her something to eat.”
Zhuang hurried to get some fruit for Wang’s wife before realizing he should call Zhao Jingwu and ask why he had left. They needed help in the kitchen.
The loudspeaker in the yard croaked three times, followed by a voice:
“Zhuang Zhidie, you have guests.”
“Who could that be?” Wang’s wife asked.
“That’s so annoying. It’s Mrs. Wei, the gatekeeper. She takes her job seriously, and that’s fine, but she calls me to greet guests as if I were a prostitute waiting for her john.”
Amused by what he had said, Wang’s wife’s face crinkled with a smile. Zhuang was about to go downstairs when Niu Yueqing said from the kitchen, “We have important guests today, so turn everyone else away. Just have the old lady say you’re out.”
“I also invited Meng and Zhou Min and their wives.”
Niu Yueqing paused.
“You and your plans. All right, then, the more the merrier. But Meng Yunfang talks nonstop,” she whispered. “How will we be able to ask for a loan with him around?”
“Why don’t you ask her now?”
“Why must you avoid difficult issues? You’re like a turtle hiding its head!”
Zhuang left with a laugh. Niu Yueqing brought a kettle to the study, where she added hot water to Wang’s wife’s tea. She then broached the subject, and Wang’s wife agreed at once to lend them the money. Before long, footsteps sounded on the staircase, followed by Meng’s raspy voice.
“Where is Wang Ximian’s wife?”
The women stopped talking and came out of the study. Meng was standing by the door.
“It’s been a year since I last saw you,” he said. “People were saying you’re showing your age, but you actually look younger than Xia Jie, with fresher, softer, tender skin. Are you making us all old before our time? Now I know how Wang Ximian can be so creative: his source of inspiration is forever young.”
“Listen to you. I’m just glad you’re not saying bad things about me,” Wang’s wife said. “Why not swap with Old Wang if you’re interested in me?”
Meng turned to his wife. “Sounds good to me, and you’re probably even more eager to swap than I am. You’d have a better life with him, since he gets thousands for a painting.”
Xia Jie glared at her husband, but said with a smile, “Wang could never be interested in me, and you, you would be a perfect cook for his wife.”
Wang’s wife playfully pinched Xia’s mouth, and the two women horsed around like children. Meng kept his eyes on Wang’s wife as he sat down to have some tea.
“Since you don’t believe me when I say you look young, I’ll ask Zhidie to note the blaze above your head.”
Startled, she asked, “I have a blaze above my head?”
“All animals have them. The size and brightness indicate the length and strength of vitality.”
“You probably didn’t know that Meng Laoshi is studying qigong,” Zhuang said.
“I heard that, and I’m intrigued,” Wang’s wife said.
“There’s nothing intriguing about it. I now have a complete grasp of Plum Strategy of Change and The Sixty Heavenly Stems, and I’ve read The Compendium of Imperial Prophecies three times. I’ve also given three talks on The Book of Changes and am now focused on Master Shao’s Magic Numbers, a book that is a storehouse of knowledge. Once I have a total understanding of the book, I will be able to know, in great detail, what people were in previous lives, what they will become after their death, who their parents were, when they were born, whom they will marry, and whether they will have sons or daughters.”
“If you’re right,” Zhuang said, “then everything is predestined and there is no need to work hard.”
“Of course there’s predestination, but that doesn’t exempt us from striving hard. I have given the question considerable thought and can say that we can achieve total fulfillment in life precisely by exerting ourselves. There are few original copies of Master Shao’s Magic Numbers circulating inside or outside China, and though there is a book to unlock the secrets in it, it’s nearly impossible to find a copy. It took me considerable effort, but I have finally deciphered two numbers out of a six-digit series. Don’t make light of this, because this has stumped even Master Zhixiang at the Yunhuang Temple, and the book seems to take possession of everyone who studies it.”
“Yunfang, enough with your rambling already. Your job today is to cook, as usual,” Yueqing said to him.
“You see, this is my fate. Even if I became the nation’s chairman, I’d still have to cook for members of the Politburo,” he said on his way to the kitchen.
After Meng left, Wang’s wife said to Zhuang, “Why didn’t you tell me, Zhidie?”
“Tell you what?”
“What do you think? I’d have brought it today if you’d mentioned it yesterday at the house.”
“It’s just one of Yueqing’s crazy ideas, but thanks for helping.”
Baffled by their talk, Xia Jie asked, “What are you talking about? It sounds so secretive.”
Zhuang did not reply.
“Don’t say anything, Zhidie,” Wang’s wife said. “We’ll see each other tomorrow by the third pillar of the Dongxiang Bridge at Lianhu Park. Whoever gets there first stays until the other shows.”
“Right, and the same code word,” Zhuang said.
“A secret tryst. I’m going to tell Yueqing,” Xia said with a pout, knowing that they were joking in order to change the subject, as if she were a stranger. Without revealing her feelings, she asked him why Zhou Min and his wife weren’t there yet and whether he had a Five in a Row game set, vowing to beat Tang Wan’er this time. Before she finished, she heard someone at the door. She went to open it. “You little tart, how dare you put on airs! What took you so long, arriving even after Zhuang Laoshi and his wife? Did you have a bit of fun at home before you left?”
She opened the door, and there stood Zhao Jingwu, with a blushing, pretty girl holding a bundle. Quickly covering her mouth, Xia called out to Zhuang Zhidie, who was equally surprised when he saw who it was.
“I’m reporting for duty, Zhuang Laoshi,” the young woman said.
Completely unprepared, Zhuang froze on the spot.
“Liu Yue came to see me a while ago, saying she had quit her job and wanted to come to your house,” Zhao said. “I told her to wait for another day, since you’re hosting a luncheon today. But she was happy to hear that, since she knew you could use some help. I had to agree with her, so here she is.”
Taking the bundle from Liu Yue, Zhuang led her into the kitchen to meet his wife.
“Look who’s here, Yueqing. Remember I told you about finding some help? Well, Jingwu has brought us some today.”
One look at Liu, and Yueqing broke out in a big smile. “What’s this, a beauty pageant?”
“Please show me what to do, Shimu,” Liu Yue said, put at ease by Niu Yueqing’s comment. She gave her a quick appraisal. Her new mistress had a medium build and was a bit on the heavy side, with her hair fashionably short and pulled together with a cheap plastic hair band; she had a large, rather square face, a straight nose, big eyes, and some light brown facial spots.