Her Imperfection for Wifehood - Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Xu Weiqiang, who was observing the situation upstairs, could no longer sit still after hearing the man call out his name. He turned to An Jing: “This man is the new Chinese Director of the Concession’s Municipal Council—Xue Hua. He and I have a grudge from before he took office. Don’t show yourself. I’ll handle him.”

An Jing nodded.

Xu Weiqiang went downstairs.

One was a gang boss, the other a Municipal Council director. Boss Yu was trembling, caught between the two: “Gentlemen…”

“Boss Yu, I advise you to step away.” Xu Weiqiang casually picked up a bottle of wine and walked up to Xue Hua: “Boss Xue, ah, no, I should call you Director Xue. With such an arrogant display, what enlightenment do you have for me?”

Xue Hua raised his hand. Five or six armed Vietnamese police officers lined up on either side of him.

Xu Weiqiang was not to be outdone. He snapped his fingers, and a dozen or so gang members also surrounded them, armed with handguns.

Xue Hua lifted his head and puffed out his chest, jabbing a finger at Xu Weiqiang: “This is the police station’s jurisdiction, not your Lu Gang’s private territory. Xu Weiqiang, if you dare lay a hand on me today, you’re openly opposing the Municipal Council. Now, the Municipal Council is my backing, and I am a man of generosity. If you respectfully call me Master Xue and humbly apologize to me three times, our past grudges will be wiped clean.”

“That’s all? Easy enough.” Xu Weiqiang slapped Xue Hua’s hand away and promptly smashed the wine bottle over his head: “Sorry, Master Xue, my hand slipped.”

The guests in the dance hall were terrified, screaming and fleeing.

Xue Hua was stunned by the blow.

His hand trembled as he touched the blood on his head. After letting out a howl, he frantically snatched a gun from one of the police officers: “Xu Weiqiang, I’ll fucking kill you!”

Hongying on the stage was also terrified.

Her pipa fell to the floor. In her isolated and helpless state, a hand pulled her: “Come with me.”

Gunshots were left behind, and Hongying’s heart pounded wildly. She had been singing at Xianle Gate for two years and had encountered a few incidents of troublemaking, but none were as serious as this.

Exiting the back door of the dance hall, An Jing let go of Hongying’s hand: “Scared, aren’t you? There’s a rickshaw driver across the street. Get out of here quickly.”

“Aren’t you leaving?”

“I’ll wait until I confirm Xu Weiqiang’s safety, then I’ll leave.” An Jing made to go back into the dance hall.

Hongying grabbed her coat: “Boss Jing, it’s too dangerous inside!”

“Xu Weiqiang once saved my life.”

As she spoke, another group of police officers surged in: “Quick, the gunshots came from here!”

An Jing quickly pulled Hongying into an alleyway. Feeling her body tremble, she held her in her arms to comfort her: “Don’t be afraid. Once they’ve gone in, you leave immediately. Go home, get a good night’s sleep, and forget tonight ever happened.”

“Are you this nice to every girl?” Hongying clutched An Jing’s clothes tightly. “Why have you supported me at the dance hall for the past two years, Boss Jing?”

An Jing frowned: “Every time I came before, it was purely to listen to Hongying sing, to relieve my worries. But why do you think I came today, Second Miss Wei?”

With her hidden identity exposed, Hongying’s body actually relaxed a little.

The situation was critical; she didn’t have time to explain much: “Boss Jing, there are many ways to repay his life-saving kindness. Please don’t put yourself in danger, okay?”

“If I didn’t risk danger, I wouldn’t have the status I have today.” An Jing waved down a rickshaw: “Be sensible, go home.”

Hongying, or Wei Yinxia, tightly pursed her lips and nodded. Knowing that her useless presence would only be a burden to An Jing, she obediently got into the rickshaw.

A half-hour later, Xianle Dance Hall finally returned to calm.

The casualties among the police and the Lu Gang were roughly equal. Xue Hua was taken to the hospital. Xu Weiqiang was unharmed. Under the cover of his brothers, he helped the wounded An Jing escape the smoke-filled scene.

“I’m telling you, An, if you were going to leave, you should have left for good. Why did you come back? What, did you come back to collect my corpse?”

“It’s not my turn to collect your corpse. Xu Weiqiang, did blocking that bullet repay the debt?”

Xu Weiqiang roared angrily: “Repay what! Did I ask you to repay it! Even if you did, the money you’ve spent on me these years is more than enough. An Jing, listen to me: you don’t owe me! I protect you because I, Xu Weiqiang, am willing; it’s my brotherly loyalty.”

He helped An Jing into the car when suddenly a figure rushed towards the car from nearby, only to be stopped by the Lu Gang brothers with raised guns.

Xu Weiqiang was furious: “Who is it? Get lost if you don’t want to die!”

“Lord Qiang, it’s Hongying.”

She didn’t leave?

An Jing reluctantly spoke: “Let her come over. Hurry.”

At the car door, Hongying’s eyes widened, staring blankly at the blood-soaked An Jing.

An Jing frowned: “It’s just a gunshot wound to the shoulder. I won’t die. But if you don’t get in the car now, we might all be unable to leave.”

Hongying held back her tears and got into the car.

An Jing then said: “Lord Qiang, we’ll split up. Leave one person to drive for me, and take the rest with you.”

“Alright. Hongying, I’m entrusting An Jing to you. I hope you’re a smart girl.” Xu Weiqiang nodded, agreeing with An Jing’s plan. If the opponent was going to pursue, the main target would be him.

The person left to drive was Bai Yang. He asked: “Boss Jing, where should I drive?”

“An’s house is out, a hotel is out…”

Hongying heard this and said anxiously, her voice trembling: “Nowhere is good? Do you even want to live!”

Boss Jing was being yelled at again.

An Jing ignored Hongying and told Bai Yang: “Bai Yang, drive away from the concession first and find an inconspicuous clinic. My life is still important.”

Most of Hongying’s face was covered by a dark veil, so An Jing couldn’t see her expression. She asked her: “Didn’t I tell you to go home? Why didn’t you leave?”

“Just because you tell me to leave means I have to? You’re not anyone to me, why should I listen to you? Stop talking! Save your energy to think about the next step. I’ll press the wound for you.” Hongying composed herself and moved closer to An Jing: “I’m not afraid of blood, and I don’t care about dirtying my clothes. I’m afraid something will happen to you.”

An Jing was accustomed to being wounded and bleeding: “What are you afraid of? It doesn’t matter if something happens to me. An’s still has An Xi.”

“Ten An Xis might not be worth one An Jing.” Hongying wrapped her left arm around An Jing’s shoulder and used her right hand with a handkerchief to firmly press the gunshot wound on her left shoulder.

“Is my brother that bad in your eyes?”

“It’s not that he’s bad; it’s that you are too outstanding. Boss Jing, don’t you know how excellent you are?”

“I know now.”

An Jing had heard countless elaborate praises from people in all walks of life. But hearing the simple word “excellent” from Hongying’s mouth made her inexplicably happy today.

She was unusually “docile,” letting Hongying hold her. The unique scent emanating from Hongying made her forget the pain of the wound.

Leaning against this young girl, she surprisingly felt a sense of security: “I’m going to rest for a bit. Call me when you find a place.”

“Mmm.” Hongying adjusted her posture, trying to straighten her back and lean closer to An Jing so she could comfortably rest her head on her shoulder.

The clinic’s female nurse had already left. Only a male doctor over sixty remained.

If they had arrived ten minutes later, the old man would have closed the door.

Gunshot wounds were not uncommon.

After administering local anesthesia, the process of removing the bullet went smoothly. Hongying then proactively suggested: “I’ll handle the bandaging and dressing. Please explain the steps to me in detail.”

Looking at the wound, Hongying took several deep breaths before daring to touch it. She couldn’t imagine how painful such a deep hole must be.

She had experienced the pain of a knife cut not long ago; An Jing’s injury must be a hundred or a thousand times worse.

Boss Jing, does it hurt?

She wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come out.

After the wound was treated at the clinic, a considerable sum of money was given to the old man as a sealing fee.

An Jing called home, saying she was out on business and would return in a couple of days.

Hongying understood her concern and offered a solution: “If Boss Jing trusts me, there is a place we can go.”

An Jing said: “Give directions.”

Upon reaching the destination Hongying suggested, An Jing told Bai Yang: “Thank you for your hard work. I’m fine now. You should return to the Lu Gang and follow Lord Qiang’s instructions.”

Bai Yang was an intelligent man: “Take care, Boss Jing. I’ll take the car. I’ll clean it thoroughly and return it to the An house another day.”

The dilapidated Old Town—the ground, houses, and trees—was filled with a sense of history, bearing the marks of the city’s passing years.

The low-lying houses were much worse than the New Town where An Jing lived, but significantly better than the shantytowns.

Hongying helped An Jing walk into the deep alley.

An Jing asked: “Where is this?”

She couldn’t reconcile a wealthy family’s daughter with such a rundown place.

However, a truly favored daughter wouldn’t be randomly abused by her parents as a chess piece, wouldn’t be reduced to a courtesan in a dance hall, wouldn’t be promised to a man like Sixth Master Ma as a concubine, and certainly wouldn’t be in the Old Town late at night.

“My home.”

“Your home? Then what is the Wei family?”

“That is not my home.”

In front of the old, low-lying house, Hongying raised her hand and knocked on the faded wooden door: “Aunt Hong, it’s me. Open up.”

An Jing remained calm. Hongying murmured to herself: “He publicly announced my mother was deceased and gave her a mere concubine’s title to hide the fact that he was intimate with a low-class courtesan when he was poor and down on his luck.”

The woman who opened the door still had a certain charm but said nothing.

“Aunt Hong, please heat up more water. Call me when it’s ready.” Hongying led An Jing into a small, dim room: “It’s simple here. I apologize to Boss Jing for the inconvenience.”

An Jing sat down on the wicker chair. Some childhood memories surfaced: “When I was very young, I also lived in a dark and damp house.”

She was adopted by the An family when she was fourteen.

Before she was fourteen, she lived in this area of the Old Town. She had no memory of her father, but her mother said she had an older brother, two years her senior, who had been sold by their father.

Her father left home, leaving her and her mother to rely on each other. Her mother waited for her father for nine years, overworked herself into sickness, and finally passed away the day after the Mid-Autumn Festival when An Jing was ten.

It was a night of wind and rain. Her mother had been bedridden for days. She had already learned to brew medicine and slowly fed her mother the entire bowl of bitter decoction.

On the bed, her mother held her close, softly humming a tune to lull her to sleep.

She was startled awake by a clap of thunder in the middle of the night and couldn’t sleep again. She was afraid to wake her mother, so she lay motionless, only to find her mother’s body growing colder.

She called out a few times, gently shook her mother’s body, and then leaned in. No breath, no body temperature, no heartbeat. She finally realized her mother was gone.

Daring the heavy rain, she knocked on a neighbor’s door.

After that, she was alone. She had no choice but to join other orphaned children as a child laborer to survive.

At ten, she was entering adolescence. To avoid the lecherous gazes of men, to prevent being groped by perverts, and for convenience at work, she cut her hair short and lived as a tomboy ever since.

The days were hard. She endured a lot of hardship and many injuries, but eventually reached a turning point in her fate.

By chance, when she was twelve, outside the An family’s factory, she fought desperately to save six-year-old An Xi from two human traffickers. Mr. and Madam An were deeply grateful to her.

The scar on her forehead was from being hit with a stone by one of the traffickers that day.

At that time, the An family business was in its early stages. They didn’t have many workers and would occasionally hire child laborers for odd jobs. Learning that she was an orphan, Mr. and Madam An took her in to live at the factory and apprentice under the master workers.

Over time, Mr. An valued her trustworthiness and integrity, and Madam An saw the bond between her and An Xi.

The An family could afford one more mouth to feed. So, they formally adopted her and renamed her—An Jing.

An Jing didn’t continue her story, and Hongying didn’t ask anything more. With her back to An Jing, she removed the veil at the dressing table and peeled off the material she used to disguise her face.

Then, she rummaged through the wardrobe for the largest set of cotton clothes and trousers and placed them on the bed: “Your clothes and trousers are covered in blood. Change out of them later, and I’ll wash them for you. Once they’re dry, I’ll mend them, and you can wear them again.”

Hongying sat on the edge of the bed, facing An Jing: “Boss Jing, don’t you have anything you want to say or ask?”

“Thank you.”

That Wei Yinxia was Hongying—An Jing had already suspected it on the day of Wei Zhengqing’s birthday banquet.

Going to Xianle Gate after the banquet was to confirm it. And after carrying Hongying into the car that day, she was completely sure.

This was why her attitude toward Wei Yinxia was sometimes good and sometimes bad. Good, because of Hongying; bad, because of Wei Yinxia.

Everyone has secrets that are hard to confess, or a past they’d rather forget. She had her own, and she applied that empathy to others.

Secrets are not meant to be revealed. Scars are not meant to be ripped open.

Now that Hongying’s disguise had been broken tonight, Hongying and Wei Yinxia merged into one person. For An Jing, whether Wei Yinxia lived in a villa or the Old Town, inside or outside the concession, was irrelevant.

What mattered was Wei Yinxia herself.

The woman who could always, unwittingly, stir her emotions.

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