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墨書 Inktalez
Feng Zongran lived in the Mei Concession.
Xian Xiang sat in the rickshaw, nearly fainting at the sight of a blonde foreigner standing by the roadside.
Feng Zongran shielded his face with his hat throughout the journey, enduring until they finally arrived home—a recently purchased two-story villa.
"Brother Zong Ran, why do your flowers look like they're made of bronze?" Xian Xiang asked curiously.
"Those aren't flowers; they're gramophones," Feng Zongran patiently explained.
"Brother Zong Ran, why is this bowl square?" Xian Xiang inquired again.
"That isn't a bowl; it's an ashtray," Feng Zongran replied helplessly.
"Brother Zong Ran, why is this basin turned upside down?" Xian Xiang continued to ask.
"That isn't a basin; it's a lampshade," Feng Zongran said, feeling somewhat defeated.
Watching Xian Xiang, who had been incessantly talking and fidgeting since she entered, Feng Zongran leaned against the wall, feeling powerless.
In his memory, this girl had been timid as a mouse, too scared to speak in his presence. How had she suddenly transformed into such a chatterbox?
"Brother Zong Ran..." Xian Xiang elongated her voice. Resigned, Feng Zongran followed the sound into the bathroom, where he found Xian Xiang studying the toilet with her head down. Pointing at the hole inside, she exclaimed, "The opening of your well is so small and smells bad. How do you drink water?"
Feng Zongran's face changed several colors in an instant. He couldn't hold back any longer and leaned against the door, laughing so hard that he squatted down on the floor, nearly doubling over from laughter.
However, Xian Xiang looked completely bewildered, unaware of what was so funny. She joined in the laughter and said, "Hehe, Third Aunt was right. As soon as I arrived, Brother Zong Ran became happy."
As soon as she finished speaking, Feng Zongran's expression changed abruptly. He stopped laughing and cleared his throat seriously, saying, "This is Shanghai, not the countryside. You need to shed that rustic demeanor to avoid embarrassing yourself when you go out."
"I'll change whatever Brother Zong Ran doesn't like," Xian Xiang replied with a smile, her crescent-shaped eyes filled with sincerity as if she didn't take his reprimanding tone to heart at all.
Feng Zongran said seriously, "Besides Uncle Huai and me, you must not tell anyone about our relationship, especially at school. You can only say that you are my cousin."
"Why?" Xian Xiang asked, confused.
"If you want to know why, I can send you back to Old Town right now," Feng Zongran threatened.
"Oh, I won't ask anymore," she quickly waved her hands in a panic, smiling at him to appease him. He looked at her hair and clothing with discomfort.
Feng Zongran disdainfully remarked, "You really are a frog at the bottom of a well. Uncle Huai, please teach the young lady properly this afternoon." After he finished speaking, Uncle Huai had already appeared at the door. With some matters still pending at the company, Feng Zongran instructed him a few more times before leaving.
Uncle Huai shared many things with Xian Xiang that she did not know, including Feng Zongran's current girlfriend, Yuan Manling.
To Uncle Huai's surprise, Xian Xiang did not show any signs of shock or anger after hearing this; instead, she cheerfully exclaimed that she wanted to experience a flushing toilet and ran off, leaving Uncle Huai behind.
After fully experiencing the flushing toilet, she bounced down the stairs, ready to find something new when she discovered a guest already waiting on the sofa in the living room.
...
With her curly hair pinned at her chest and wearing a light pink qipao topped with a white velvet short vest, she had a delicate red ruby brooch fastened at the collar. Her pointed thick-soled shoes added to her strikingly glamorous appearance, making Xian Xiang feel overshadowed when facing her.
"You must be Xian Xiang? I'm Yuan Manling." She glanced disdainfully at Xian Xiang before elegantly sitting on the sofa, clearly familiar with the surroundings.
She scrutinized Xian Xiang's attire and mocked, "No wonder Zongran doesn't want to go back; with someone as tacky as you at home, I wouldn't want to return either."
"What brings Yuan Manling here?" Xian Xiang casually took off her shoes and boldly sat on the sofa.
Yuan Manling noticed her bare feet and asked, "Why haven't you bound your feet? I heard that women from the countryside bind their feet from a young age!"
"I didn't wrap myself up because my mother cares for me," Xian Xiang replied nonchalantly.
"Your mother? You mean Zongran's mother?"
Xian Xiang nodded, and Yuan Manling took a deep breath, saying with displeasure, "I'm not here to build a friendship with you. Let's get straight to the point: I've known Zongran for a long time, and he loves me."
Xian Xiang nodded and said, "I know, my mother mentioned it. It's quite normal for men to have multiple wives; after all, one teapot should be paired with four cups, right? Hehe, I don't mind you being the concubine."
She smiled innocently, but Yuan Manling's expression darkened. With a grim face, she exclaimed, "This is the Republic of China, not a feudal society with polygamy. We advocate for gender equality and monogamy."
Xian Xiang looked genuinely confused and said, "But isn't it true that Yuan Manling doesn't mind being without a title?"
"You... who wouldn't want a title? I'm just letting you know that your ridiculous arranged marriage will lead nowhere. Zongran loves me; he brought you to Shanghai to show you how much we love each other. He will eventually divorce you." After saying this with bitterness, Yuan Manling grabbed her handbag and left angrily, strutting away in her high heels.
Uncle Huai approached to comfort Xian Xiang. "Miss, please don't be upset; Yuan Manling has a rather bad temper."
"How could I be upset about the person Brother Zongran likes? Uncle Huai, I'm going back to my room to rest. Don't forget to call me when it's time for dinner," Xian Xiang said as she stood up and headed towards the second floor.
Uncle Huai sighed and shook his head; this young lady truly had a carefree spirit.
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