In June, the weather in Haicheng could turn on you without warning.
That morning the sky had been a spotless blue; by noon a bank of dark clouds rolled in and, within minutes, fat raindrops began to hammer the city. Su Yang shut the window, sat back down at the bedside, and hauled the frail woman up into a sitting position. She forced a smile. “Mom, how’s the new medicine this week? The doctor said there might be some rejection. If you feel anything off, you have to call for help right away.”
The woman on the bed returned a powerless smile, fingering the wool cap on her head. She frowned. “Don’t worry about me… it’s the cost of the new drug… Yangyang… I’m already grateful to have lived this long. I just… I want you to live well. If your father won’t pay for the surgery and the medicine… cough… then let it be.”
“Mom!” Su Yang cut her off, teeth clenched. “I’m not taking his money for nothing—I’ll borrow it. I’ll write an IOU in black and white. And I’ll pay every cent of the interest back to him.”
The story between He Juan and Su Quansheng had long since become a textbook example of “modern-day Chen Shimei” — a childhood promise ended in betrayal. In their youth, Su Quansheng’s parents were among the first from the countryside to try their luck in business. The couple scraped together a living and, after agonizing, sent the young Su Quansheng back to the village to be raised.
He Juan lived next door. They went to school together, helped one another with chores, and grew from playmates into lovers. When they graduated high school they slipped quietly into a relationship. Quansheng swore he would marry her, but age and circumstance kept them from registering their marriage. Then he went off to university, promising to bring He Juan to the city when he graduated and give her a better life.
He Juan worked herself to the bone—waking early, working late, saving every penny for his tuition and living expenses—so that the reunion could come sooner. At first Quansheng would return every holiday; their meetings were full of tender longing. But his visits grew fewer, their conversations shorter. The second year after he graduated, He Juan found herself pregnant and he vanished.
Desperate, she tracked down Su Quansheng’s parents in the city and learned where he lived. She showed up at his door with their newborn daughter, Su Yang, only to find that the Su family had struck lucky. Their business had prospered; Quansheng had become a “rich son,” married a suitable match, and settled into comfort. The girl from next door—who had once been his one and only—was cast aside. The woman who had been his wife in everything but paperwork was branded a homewrecker by others.
He Juan’s face darkened whenever the name Su Quansheng came up. Now she lifted her skeletal arm and waved her hand weakly. “I just don’t want to make things hard for you…”
Su Yang saw the bruising under her mother’s sunken eyes, the waxen pallor. Her chest tightened, but she didn’t want He Juan to worry more. She changed the subject. “Aunt Liu from the next bed—where did she go? Why is her bed empty?”
The elderly woman who had been tending He Juan, the ward companion, answered with a low exhale. “Ah, Sister Liu passed away last night. I think they cremated her this morning…”
There was a ripple of sympathy around the room. Su Yang squeezed her mother’s hand, and He Juan gave a soft hum.
“Everything all right?” Su Yang asked.
“It’s nothing. The nurse gave me a catheter yesterday; I’m just not used to it.” He Juan didn’t want her daughter to carry the weight of the bills, so she let the topic drop and reached out to stroke Su Yang’s cheek. “You said you’d bring your boyfriend to visit me… I’ve been waiting.”
Su Yang blinked. She had only joked once—offhand—and her mother had taken it to heart. She had no boyfriend. Where was she supposed to find one to bring to the hospital?
Her smile wavered. “Sure. I’ll bring him next time. Mom, you rest. I’ll go find the head nurse.”
She needed an excuse to leave before she started unraveling in front of He Juan. Outside, the rain hammered against the windows, a steady drum. Su Yang stood for a moment in the lobby, rain soaking her, then forced herself to dial her father.
The call connected quickly. His voice sounded impatient on the other end. “Yes?”
“Dad, are you busy?” she said, trying for small talk.
“Say it.” He answered flatly.
“It’s—Mom’s medical bills can’t be postponed any longer. I told you last week—”
A gust of wind nearly pushed her off balance in the doorway. She retreated into the hospital hall.
“Fine. I’ll send you a location. Go pick up those books you left at home. Your aunt packed them into my car trunk.” He Quansheng cut her off before she finished, and then sent a map pin.
The rain had come on so suddenly Su Yang hadn’t brought an umbrella. She arrived at the address drenched to the skin. She still had two job interviews that afternoon; she was in a conservative outfit—a white blouse and a dark suit skirt—that had seen better days. The fabric clung to her and carried the smell of damp; it made her feel cheap and ridiculous.
At the restaurant private room, she hesitated at the door. A server opened it with a smile, and from inside Su Qian’s high, affected voice poured out.
“My standards aren’t high—just all the flowers, a convertible for the send-off. That’s basic wedding etiquette. And that hotel? No. The level is too low. With the sort of guests we’ll have, if the lobster on the menu isn’t Australian, how are they supposed to eat…”
Su Qian kept rattling off demands. Su Yang stood like a ghost at the threshold until a server with a steaming bowl of soup nudged her forward. Inside, beside Su Quansheng and Su Qian, sat a stranger—a man in a black outfit and gold-rimmed glasses whose bearing betrayed a wealth that even his plain clothes couldn’t hide.
“Sit,” Su Quansheng said, indicating a chair. “This is my eldest daughter, Su Yang. She’s here about something.”
Su Yang slid into the seat and, out of the corner of her eye, studied the stranger again.
“Mr. Su never mentioned an eldest daughter,” the man observed without taking his eyes off his companion.
Quansheng forced a laugh and offered a curt explanation. “She always lived with her mother. She just graduated this month and came back to… see me.”
The man glanced at Su Yang, his face cool and assessing. He was tall, upright, and carried an aloofness that made the silver watch on his wrist look like an icy halo.
Su Qian—seated opposite Su Yang—stared with mingled disdain and surprise. “What are you doing here? How did you even find this place?” she snapped.
Before Su Yang could retreat, the man’s gaze found her and a voice like a cold breeze cut through the chatter. “Miss Su, let me be clear. I am looking for a wife, not someone to be sustained by me. If you don’t want to marry me, you don’t have to. According to my grandfather’s stipulation, as long as my spouse is a member of the Su family, that will do.”