Chapter 2 - A Fragile Facade
“Wei Zhi, your brother is here to see you. He’s waiting at the gallery entrance.”
It was three o’clock in the afternoon. Wei Zhi was hunched over her desk, meticulously compiling the quarterly tax reports, when Xiao Cai, the cashier, strolled in clutching a Starbucks cup.
“My brother?” Wei Zhi looked up, her expression flickering with a mixture of surprise and immediate apprehension.
“Yeah,” Xiao Cai replied, dropping into the swivel chair at the desk adjacent to Wei Zhi’s. She set her hot coffee down with a dull thud and added nonchalantly, “At least, he claims to be your brother. He looks quite a bit like you.”
“I see. Thank you.”
Wei Zhi quickly logged out of the financial system, grabbed her phone, and headed downstairs.
“...They certainly share the same air of poverty,” Xiao Cai muttered, her voice barely a whisper.
The inventory accountant sitting across from her caught the remark and let out a muffled snicker. Xiao Cai’s gaze followed Wei Zhi’s retreating figure, scanning her from her khaki shirt—a piece that clearly cost less than a hundred yuan—to her light-striped wide-leg trousers, finally settling on the LV bag resting on Wei Zhi’s workstation.
The corners of Xiao Cai’s mouth curled upward in a smirk before twisting into a sneer. A sharp, disdainful huff escaped her throat.
“What’s the matter?” the inventory accountant teased. “Jealous that she managed to climb the social ladder?”
“I earn my living through honest, hard work. Why would I be jealous of her? Jealous of her carrying a knockoff?” Xiao Cai grumbled. “She’s just a vain, gold-digging girl.”
“Want to bet? I bet she’ll grab that bag and leave early the moment she gets the chance,” the inventory accountant whispered.
“The future lady of the house coming back to fetch her own bag? You’re overthinking it. The boss will probably be the one to pick it up for her,” Xiao Cai said dismissively.
The finance manager, working in a private office partitioned by a glass door, had overheard the entire exchange. He never intervened. There was no profit in stopping the gossip, and it provided a bit of entertainment during the slow hours. Occasionally, he would even lean against the glass door with his own coffee, offering vague, neutral comments just to maintain his standing within the group. To offend no one while protecting his own interests—that was the survival strategy of a middle manager in the corporate world.
Outside the gallery’s main entrance, Wei Zhi was trying to persuade Wei Lai to leave.
“What are you doing here? Didn’t I tell you not to come to my workplace?”
“I’m not here for you! I’m here to see my brother-in-law. Mind your own business!”
“He’s working. He doesn’t have time for you.”
“Bullshit! I called him ages ago. He said he’d come down as soon as he finished what he was doing.”
“You actually called him—”
Wei Zhi’s anger was cut short by the arrival of the elevator. Ji Qikun stepped out, and her expression shifted instantly into a soft smile as she watched him approach.
“Brother-in-law!” Wei Lai shouted, stepping forward to stand beside Ji Qikun with practiced familiarity.
“How did you...” Wei Zhi trailed off, noticing the look in Ji Qikun’s eyes.
“Wei Lai mentioned his phone is lagging. We’re going to go pick out a new one for him,” Ji Qikun said smoothly.
“...Maybe you two should go. I’ll catch up after I get off work,” she suggested tentatively.
“We’ll go together,” Ji Qikun said, his voice low but firm. He turned to Wei Lai with a smile. “Wait here with your sister while I get the car.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about! You’re the best, brother-in-law!” Wei Lai pumped his fist in the air.
Ji Qikun gave a light chuckle and turned toward the garage. He hadn't left Wei Zhi any room to argue.
Wei Lai watched Ji Qikun’s tall, elegant figure with undisguised adoration. “...It’s a good thing he has bad eyesight and fell for you. He’s the hope of our entire family.”
Wei Zhi didn't respond. With Ji Qikun gone, she treated her brother as if he were nothing more than a repulsive, inanimate object standing beside her.
When the obsidian-black Bentley Bentayga pulled up, Wei Lai subtly elbowed Wei Zhi aside to claim the front passenger seat.
They arrived at Kirin Plaza, a hub of high-end electronics. Wei Lai dove straight into the Apple Store, loudly declaring he wanted to see the “most expensive and best model.” After agonizing over the specs for half an hour, he decided the latest iPhone didn't offer enough of an upgrade. Ultimately, he dragged them to the Huawei store next door to buy their newly released flagship model.
The most expensive phone, the premium earbuds, the highest-grade screen protector, the sturdiest case—Wei Lai’s demands were relentless, and Ji Qikun met every single one of them with a gracious smile.
“He’s asking for too much. You don’t have to buy all of this,” Wei Zhi said, her voice tight with anxiety.
“It’s fine.” Ji Qikun’s smile was airy and unbothered. He nodded toward Wei Lai. “Does it feel good in your hand?”
“It’s perfect! Absolutely perfect! Thanks, brother-in-law!” Wei Lai’s face was a mask of pure excitement as he fumbled with his new gadgets.
Ji Qikun checked his watch. “It’s almost dinner time. Why don’t you join us?”
“Oh! I’m not that tactless. You and Sis go enjoy your private time. I’ll head out!” Wei Lai clutched his new phone and pressed his hands together in a gesture of gratitude. “Thanks again!”
He ran off a few paces before remembering something. He turned back and shouted, “Oh, right! My dad said he’s inviting you to dinner at our place this Sunday! You have to come!”
Once Wei Lai had disappeared into the crowd, Wei Zhi turned to Ji Qikun. “...I’m sorry.”
“It’s nothing. Your family is my family. As long as they treat you well, that’s all that matters,” Ji Qikun replied warmly. “Now, what would you like for dinner?”
***
Inside a small cardboard box lay the remnants of Mei Man’s life—items the police had seized after her fatal fall. Zhang Kaiyang had originally handed this box to Weng Xiuyue, and now, she was pushing it back toward him across the table.
Zhang was the most junior officer at the station, which was why he had been tasked with "pacifying" the family.
The "family of the deceased," not the "family of the victim."
"Refusal to file a case" was the final answer the authorities had provided.
Weng Xiuyue held a small iPhone, showing Zhang the chat logs he had already memorized. She scrolled to the very last message—a cold, succinct reply from Ji Qikun: *“I won’t let you go.”*
Weng Xiuyue’s hand pressed firmly against the table, her eyes searching Zhang’s face with a mixture of desperation and disbelief.
“I don’t understand, Officer. Why isn’t this considered evidence?”
She was a woman who valued dignity; Zhang had learned that much during their interactions. Unlike many grieving parents who were too broken to care for their appearance, she appeared for every meeting in sharp, professional attire with subtle, elegant makeup. It was a habit born from her years as a sales lead at a major real estate firm. A single mother with only a high school education who had fought her way up—one could only imagine the storms she had weathered.
Zhang Kaiyang felt a dull ache in his chest, but his options were limited.
“Auntie Weng, based on our investigation, Mei Man’s death does not meet the criteria for a criminal case. If you still have objections, you can file a lawsuit in court.” Before her expression could crumble, Zhang continued, “I consulted a lawyer friend a couple of days ago. He suggested you sue for the ‘Crime of Abuse.’”
“Crime of Abuse?” Weng Xiuyue blinked, startled.
Zhang explained, “According to Article 260 of the Criminal Law, anyone who subjects a family member living with them to physical or mental mistreatment, if the circumstances are flagrant, is guilty of the crime of abuse. While Mei Man and Ji Qikun weren't strictly family members, they lived together for a long time during university. They were, for all intents and purposes, a domestic unit.”
“If you pursue this angle, there’s a chance the charge could stick,” Zhang said earnestly. “But as I said, they weren't legally family, so whether the judge applies this statute is up to their interpretation.”
Weng Xiuyue hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing her face.
“Auntie Weng, you see my badge number, right? I wouldn’t lie to you.” Zhang straightened his posture, his face full of sincerity.
“A lawsuit... how do I start?” she finally asked.
Encouraged, Zhang patiently walked her through the process. “If you don’t know how to write the complaint, you can come to me. I’m usually free. But for a case like Mei Man’s, it’s best to hire a professional lawyer.”
Seeing the genuine concern in the young officer’s eyes, Weng Xiuyue’s suspicion that the station was simply passing the buck began to fade.
“...Thank you. I will.” She stood up and reached for the box of her daughter’s belongings.
“Let me get that for you. I’ll walk you to the door,” Zhang said with a grin.
Weng Xiuyue silently withdrew her hands.
Zhang carried the box outside and carefully handed it over to her. He asked her to wait a moment, dashed back inside, and returned a minute later, slightly out of breath.
“Auntie Weng, this is my personal number. If you have any questions later, you can call me—or just come to the station. I’m still just a trainee, but my mentor has a lot of experience.”
“...Thank you,” she said once more.
Zhang watched her get into a taxi before turning back into the station. Inside, Old Chen was mediating a dispute involving a twelve-year-old boy who had kicked two female university students because they were walking too slowly and "blocking his path."
“...We can only mediate! I can’t throw him in jail if he won’t apologize!” Old Chen shouted into the phone, looking frazzled. He waved Zhang away.
Ten minutes later, after being called a "useless tax-thief" by the person on the other end, Old Chen hung up. He looked at Zhang with a sour expression. “She’s gone?”
“Yes,” Zhang reported. “I suggested she find a lawyer and sue for the Crime of Abuse.”
“Won’t work. They weren't family. No marriage, no cohabitation in the eyes of the law,” Old Chen grumbled.
“...We can’t just do nothing,” Zhang whispered.
Old Chen saw right through him. He knew exactly what the kid was thinking. He’d been young once, too.
“There are plenty of pitiful people in this world. If you can’t handle it, go work for a charity,” Old Chen said bluntly. “The only basis for police action is the law. If even the law can’t distinguish right from wrong in a situation, what makes you think you can?”
Zhang knew his mentor was right, but the sense of defeat was crushing. He needed to do something to prove that the uniform he wore actually meant something.
***
That night.
Wei Zhi’s workday only truly ended after she finished six hours of food delivery following her shift at the gallery. Usually, her sleep was fitful, plagued by fragmented, unsettling dreams.
Wei Lai didn't care.
She woke from a shallow slumber to the sound of rustling. Her sleepiness vanished instantly. In the dim light of the room, she saw Wei Lai squatting on the floor in front of her folding bed, using his phone’s flashlight to rummage through her jewelry box.
“What are you doing?” Wei Zhi sat up abruptly, her voice cold and hard.
Startled, Wei Lai fell back onto his rear. When he realized it was just her, his face twisted into a mix of disdain and awkwardness.
“Lend me five hundred. I want to go out for a late-night snack,” he said. “I didn’t see any cash in your bag.”
“You went through my bag too?” Wei Zhi’s face darkened. “Get out. I don’t have any money.”
“You don’t have money? You’ve landed such a rich man, and you can’t spare five hundred for your brother’s snack?” Wei Lai’s eyes widened in mock outrage.
“No,” Wei Zhi repeated.
She climbed out of bed and shoved him aside, grabbing her jewelry box to put it back into its plastic storage bin.
“I already promised my friends! You have to give me the money! If you don’t have cash, give me that gold pendant!” Wei Lai grew desperate and lunged for the box.
“Get out!” Wei Zhi shielded the box with her body.
Wei Lai used his full strength to wrestle it away. Unable to win the physical struggle, Wei Zhi swung her hand and delivered a sharp slap to his face.
“Wei Lai, don’t push me!”
“You dare hit me?!”
Wei Lai lunged at her, his target no longer the jewelry box. Wei Zhi wasn't one to take a beating lying down. Whether she could win was one thing; whether she would fight back was another.
Her head slammed against the plastic storage bin with a sickening thud. She didn't make a sound. Wei Lai, however, let out a pig-like squeal when she landed a solid kick to his groin.
The overhead light flickered on.
Wang Lin, who had been tending the shop in the front, rushed in, ignoring the store to separate them. “Xiao Zhi, Xiao Lai! Why are you fighting again? Stop it—stop it!”
Wei Shan, who usually slept like the dead, was also jolted awake. He pushed open his bedroom door, wearing a loose, dingy white undershirt, and roared, “Enough!”
Wei Lai hesitated, but Wei Zhi didn't. She landed one last stinging slap on her brother’s cheek. Before he could retaliate, she scrambled to her feet. Wei Lai tried to chase her, but Wei Shan’s shout stopped him in his tracks.
“It’s the middle of the night! What is wrong with you two?” Wei Shan bellowed.
“He was trying to steal my money,” Wei Zhi said.
“I said I was borrowing it!”
“And how were you going to pay it back? With your life?”
“You—”
“Enough!” Wei Shan roared again, silencing them both.
“Wei Lai shouldn't have gone through his sister’s things,” Wei Shan said, puffing out his beer belly as he assumed the role of the impartial judge. “But Wei Zhi, you’re in the wrong too. You have a job and you’re making money; you should be giving your brother some pocket money. You’re being inconsiderate. If you had just given him some money in the first place, would he have had to ‘borrow’ it?”
Wei Lai looked at her with a smug, triumphant grin.
Wei Zhi remained silent, her gaze fixed on a distant point, a cold, hollow laugh bubbling in her throat.
Wang Lin whispered, “Xiao Lai, going through your sister’s things without asking really was wrong...”
“What do you know? Is it your place to speak?” Wei Shan turned his frustration on Wang Lin. “You’re always favoring Wei Zhi. That’s why she’s become so selfish!”
“If you have a problem, take it out on me! She’s sick and she’s still helping you run the shop—she’s exhausted!” Wei Zhi snapped.
“Oh, you’ve got a lot of nerve!” Wei Shan’s eyes bulged. “Helping me? How do you think you two grew up? If you hadn't gone to university and had started working sooner, your mother wouldn't be this tired!”
“Don’t... please don’t say that. I’m not tired at all!” Wang Lin’s weathered face was etched with worry as she waved her rough hands frantically.
More than Wei Shan or Wei Lai, it was always Wang Lin who managed to break Wei Zhi’s spirit.
Wei Zhi sat back down on her folding bed, burying her face in her hands, her fingers digging deep into her hair. She focused her entire world on the tiny patch of floor beneath her feet.
“I’m going to sleep. If you don't leave, then no one sleeps tonight,” she said, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion.
Wang Lin gently nudged Wei Shan and Wei Lai, pleading with them to go back to their rooms.
“She finds herself a rich man and suddenly she’s got a temper...” Wei Shan grumbled, though he allowed himself to be led away.
“Exactly. She’s going to be a rich lady soon. She’s too good to stand on equal footing with us now,” Wei Lai added snidely.
The doors clicked shut, and silence returned to the cramped space.
Wang Lin’s feet stopped in front of Wei Zhi. A rough, calloused hand reached out tentatively to touch her shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!” Wei Zhi jerked her shoulder away, shaking off her mother’s hand.
A moment later, she heard Wang Lin’s low, tearful murmur.
“Just endure it a little longer... Once you’re married, everything will be better.”
The pair of cheap, fifteen-yuan sandals turned and shuffled away. A moment later, the door leading to the grocery shop closed.
Wei Zhi swallowed the sob rising in her throat, forcing the chaotic, heavy emotions back down into her chest. Her hands shook in her hair. As she tightened her grip, she felt something wet.
She pulled her hand away and looked. Her index and middle fingers were stained with blood.
