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墨書 Inktalez
A Ford car stopped at the entrance of the Zhang residence, and Mrs. Zhang hurried over to greet them. Although she was wearing a half-mask, she could still recognize Cheng Mo Su's unique and beautiful face. "Miss Cheng, we have finally been waiting for you," she said. Compared to other socialites in Shanghai, Cheng Mo Su rarely attended social events, so any occasion that could attract her presence would make the host quite pleased.
Cheng Mo Su smiled gently and nodded. Mrs. Zhang then shifted her gaze to the young man beside her, Shaoyi, and couldn't help but be taken aback. "This young gentleman has an extraordinary demeanor and is quite handsome, but I don't believe I've seen him before." Cheng Mo Su glanced at Shaoyi; this was the first time she had seen him in a suit. The black attire accentuated his tall figure, and even with the mask on, one could sense his slightly cold yet heroic aura.
Cheng Mo Su smiled without responding. She lightly linked her delicate hand with Shaoyi's arm and walked into the hall. The newly renovated beams of the Zhang residence featured the latest floral carvings, and beneath their feet were stone steps in Ink Wash Color, with various carved patterns standing beside them. In the distance, one could see an artificial rockery waterfall, with trickling water and green paper silk hanging from dry branches, adding a touch of greenery to the cold winter day.
"Mo Su, I thought you weren't coming!" Huang Wei exclaimed as she skipped over. She wore a low-cut dress in goose yellow, her almond-shaped eyes sparkling with mischief. When her gaze fell on Shaoyi, she was momentarily stunned. "Who is this gentleman? Mo Su, I don't recall you knowing someone so good-looking."
Cheng Mo Su revealed a faint smile and changed the subject. "Huang Wei, where is your partner?"
Huang Wei huffed in annoyance. "Mr. Xu Hua said he had something to attend to and couldn't come. I didn't want to invite anyone else, so I came alone." As she spoke, several foreign guests arrived gracefully, holding champagne glasses and greeting in German: "Miss Cheng, hello! Long time no see."
Cheng Mo Su smiled calmly, pure as an orchid. She had learned multiple languages since childhood; her strongest were English and French, while her German was limited but sufficient for basic pleasantries. "Long time no see, sir and madam," she replied.
"This gentleman is..." The German guests turned their attention to Shaoyi. "He must be Miss Cheng's friend." They extended their hands toward Shaoyi. "Hello, we work at the police station here."
Cheng Mo Su felt a sinking sensation in her heart and suddenly regretted bringing Shaoyi along. He likely had never participated in diplomatic events and might not understand these languages. Just as she was about to speak up to assist him, she heard Shaoyi's voice—cold yet firm—responding clearly: "I am also very pleased to meet you." He shook hands with the foreign guests.
"We haven't yet asked for your name," the guests continued.
"There’s no need for introductions; tonight's masquerade is meant to add a touch of mystery. Revealing everything would go against Mrs. Zhang's intentions," he replied fluently in standard German, as if it were his mother tongue. Cheng Mo Su stared at him in astonishment; how much did Shaoyi know that she was unaware of?
The German guests couldn't hide their admiration on their faces. "What this gentleman says is true. Considering how long we've been in China, it's our first time hearing such fluent German."
Shaoyi smiled politely and nodded goodbye to them before pulling Cheng Mosu to a less crowded area. Cheng Mosu frowned slightly, her Water Eyes quietly observing Shaoyi. The way he had laughed and chatted with those foreign guests lingered in her mind, slowly embedding itself in her heart, hard to shake off.
"So you not only speak French but also German," Cheng Mosu said, as the memories began to clarify.
Shaoyi turned to look at her. The usually sharp-witted Cheng Mosu now wore a look of considerable confusion, her bright and clear eyes reflecting a hint of misunderstanding. He casually shifted his gaze elsewhere and took Cheng Mosu's delicate hand into his arm. "The Ball is about to start; let's take our seats."
This formal gesture sent ripples through Cheng Mosu's heart, as if small stones had been thrown into water. She followed Shaoyi in a daze, allowing him to lead her through the crowd, her mood as ethereal as clouds and mist, floating and sinking like she was in the sky.
"Thank you all for coming; my humble abode is truly brightened by your presence." Mrs. Zhang, who usually spoke in soft tones, now raised her voice, which unintentionally sounded somewhat amusing. "Today we are holding this Ball to raise funds. I will be the first to donate." She took a pearl hairpin from her head and placed it in a nearby glass bowl. "Ladies and gentlemen, if any of you wish to donate, please place your items here and register in this ledger beside it. After the Ball, I will tally everything for donation to those who are widowed or alone." As soon as she finished speaking, thunderous applause erupted. Shaoyi took a sip of red wine and unconsciously tugged at the corners of his mouth, all of which was observed by the secretly watching Cheng Mosu.
"What are you laughing at?"
"I'm laughing at Mrs. Zhang." His Handsome Face still bore a smile, though his voice had yet to warm up. "Whenever she mentions registration, many people will scramble to donate items, competing with each other to see who can give more."
Cheng Mosu was taken aback and lowered her eyes to hide her laughter. "You're right." It was as if she were accustomed to such occasions. After a pause, she finally looked up seriously and asked, "Shaoyi, do you often socialize?"
Shaoyi paused slightly while swirling his wine glass; the red liquid reflected his striking brows. "Socializing isn't difficult. In any setting, communication between people comes down to two forms: one is saying what others want to hear, and the other is listening for what one wants to hear." His pitch-black eyes met Cheng Mosu's gaze, where she sensed a hint of loneliness. "So, you can understand a thing or two without needing to come often."
He ultimately answered her question, and she slowly raised a smile. Looking at his cold expression, a sense of mischief and stubbornness suddenly welled up inside her. She took Shaoyi's hand, her eyes sparkling like blooming lotuses. "The Ball has started; dance with me."
"I can't." The rejection was stiff and distant.
Having never experienced rejection before, Cheng Mosu felt even more stubborn upon hearing Shaoyi's words. She exerted all her strength to pull him up, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Look at how much effort I'm using to pull you; if you don't get up now, you'll attract attention."
Shaoyi paused for a moment, looking into her warm and bright eyes before helplessly standing up.
Cheng Mo Su Yingying smiled, and Rose-Colored Lips formed a slightly upward curve. Today, she was not wearing a Qipao, but instead donned a Western-style dress, a snow-white long gown that lightly brushed her ankles, with her flowing long hair cascading down to her waist. She smiled gently like jade, her beauty unparalleled throughout history. Shaoyi wrapped his arm around her slender waist and, in time with the music in their ears, began to twirl her gracefully.
"You dance very well," Cheng Mo Su said with a smile, lowering her gaze. "You only said you couldn't dance earlier because you didn't want to dance with me."
Shaoyi raised an eyebrow, noncommittal, tightening his grip around her waist. Cheng Mo Su could clearly feel that these were not hands accustomed to luxury; they were rough and calloused. She wondered what kind of life he had lived before and if he had endured much hardship. A pang of sympathy struck her heart as she continued to move gracefully in sync with his strong steps, like a delicate sprite. Her smooth feet glided over the marble floor, creating a beautiful rhythm. Slowly lifting her gaze to meet Shaoyi's eyes, she realized he was looking at her too. Her cheeks flushed, but she did not avert her gaze. At that moment, she discovered that through the mask, she could recall his features—the straight bridge of his nose and the silent lips beneath it—as well as the deep, dark eyes beneath his sharp brows.
Outside the window, fireworks were blooming in the night sky. She could no longer remember how many times she had seen fireworks throughout her life, but this was the first time she felt they were perfectly timed.
His footsteps came to a halt as the music ended, yet their arms remained intertwined. As if realizing something, the smile in Shaoyi's eyes slowly faded away. Suddenly, he released her, and the warmth that enveloped her during their dance vanished instantly. He did not look at her cheeks, now flushed like peach blossoms; instead, he extended a hand toward her and said softly, "Let's return to our seats."
Why could she never understand Shaoyi's thoughts? It felt as though he bore an overwhelming burden; every time she drew closer, he would subtly push her away without leaving a trace, drifting further from her.
She pushed open the window; the bright moon still hung high in the sky, and the stars sparkled brilliantly. The cold wind brushed against her face, and she couldn't help but awaken slightly from her daze. The scenery had not changed at all, yet she understood that everything about her had transformed this winter.
The cycle of cold and heat alternated because another person's image was imprinted in her mind. Initially driven by curiosity, she explored and approached him; each step forward left varying depths of footprints that formed an invisible line appearing in every crevice of life and every corner of thought.
What about him? Did he feel the same way?
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