Chapter 97 He Can Be Considered to Have Rendered Merit

In the afternoon, Lu Fengzhou went out for a while.

Qiao Jiu didn’t ask where he was going, though she could easily guess. When Zhao Shuo had come in and closed the door, she had called Lu Fengzhou on the phone—he must have heard their entire conversation. He was far too clever not to realize that Zhao Shuo’s actions today had been instigated by someone, and most likely, Zou Qingqing had been fanning the flames behind the scenes.

Given how he behaved today, it seemed he intended to support her, which meant Zou Qingqing wouldn’t escape unscathed either. That was just as well; left to her own devices, she would never have been able to handle those two families. Guan Wei would have stood up for her, but she didn’t want to drag her into this mess.

Qiao Jiu sat in the living room for a while, the maid quietly keeping her company, occasionally urging her to get some rest. She hadn’t slept well the night before, and after being frightened earlier, it was already an achievement she’d made it through the morning. In the end, half-heartedly resisting, she returned to her room, drew the curtains, lay down, and fell asleep almost immediately.

She slept soundly; when she woke again, it was already evening. Even before opening her eyes, she sensed someone sitting on the edge of the bed.

Qiao Jiu sat up abruptly, scooting back. “Who’s there?”

The room was dark. Lu Fengzhou’s voice came from the shadows. “It’s me.”

Qiao Jiu exhaled in relief. “You’re back.”

Lu Fengzhou gave a soft reply, coming closer to take her hand. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No,” she replied. “You just startled me, sitting there in silence.”

She turned, fumbling for the light switch, but Lu Fengzhou stopped her. “Don’t turn it on.”

Qiao Jiu made a small sound of confusion. “Why not?”

“My clothes are dirty—there’s something on them. Better not look,” he said.

After a moment’s pause, Qiao Jiu immediately understood. He’d come home earlier to shower and change; he must have gone to deal with Zhao Shuo, and gotten blood on himself.

She wasn’t afraid at all. She wasn’t a timid person; if it were convenient, she would’ve liked to deal with that bastard herself.

Lu Fengzhou said nothing more. He sat with her for a while, then quietly left.

Only then did Qiao Jiu turn on the light. The bedsheet was orange; she had no idea how much blood had stained Lu Fengzhou’s clothes, but there was a faint smudge on the sheet.

She pretended not to see it, got up, and left the room.

Lu Fengzhou was showering. Qiao Jiu curled up on the sofa in the living room. After a while, Lu Fengzhou emerged, and the maid entered his room. Moments later, she came out carrying a bag—inside, clearly, were Lu Fengzhou’s discarded clothes. The suit trousers and jacket looked fine, but the white shirt was heavily stained with blood, the color stark even though it was balled up.

Qiao Jiu quickly looked away, fixing her gaze on the television.

Lu Fengzhou sat beside her and watched the screen for a while.

Qiao Jiu had never been this quiet before. Even when they hadn’t divorced, watching TV together, she would chatter away—complaining about the male lead, calling the heroine brainless, mocking the supporting characters, grumbling and railing as she pleased.

But now she sat hugging her knees, chin resting on top, so quiet she seemed almost invisible.

This Qiao Jiu was unfamiliar to Lu Fengzhou—so unfamiliar it made his heart soften.

After a while, his phone rang. He glanced at it, hesitated. Qiao Jiu didn’t seem to notice, her eyes still on the screen.

Lu Fengzhou exhaled, stood, and went into his room.

Qiao Jiu waited a moment, then glanced at his door.

After all that happened, their relationship had suddenly eased. Zhao Shuo had, in a sense, done them a favor.

...

The next day, after getting ready, Qiao Jiu stepped out to find Lu Fengzhou sitting in the living room. It was well past working hours, but she didn’t ask why he was still home—she simply said, “I’m heading out.”

Lu Fengzhou stood up. “I’ll drive you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Qiao Jiu agreed.

They went downstairs together and got in the car, heading toward the cemetery on the outskirts of the city.

When they arrived, Liu Changyong’s car was parked by the roadside. He had brought only a driver with him. Seeing Lu Fengzhou and Qiao Jiu arrive together, he was clearly taken aback.

As they approached, Liu Changyong grinned, “Xiao Jiu, is this your friend?”

Before Qiao Jiu could answer, Lu Fengzhou spoke first. “I’m Lu Fengzhou.”

Liu Changyong’s surprise was almost theatrical. He turned to Qiao Jiu, seemingly puzzled by her decision to bring Lu Fengzhou along.

Qiao Jiu offered no explanation. “Uncle Liu, let’s go.”

The four of them walked into the cemetery. At the entrance, a pavilion hung with a speaker played a Buddhist chant.

Liu Changyong sighed theatrically, “What a pity.”

They climbed the steps and came to Qiao Siman’s grave. The photograph on the tombstone showed Qiao Siman in hale and hearty days, hair half-turned white, a face wreathed in benevolent smiles.

Qiao Jiu’s eyes reddened instantly; she couldn’t help it.

Liu Changyong crouched down, staring at the photograph. “A’man, I’ve come to see you.”

The driver stood nearby, holding a bouquet and a bag containing several bottles of liquor.

Liu Changyong arranged the offerings. “It’s been nearly twenty years, hasn’t it? I’d hoped to drink with you when I returned this time. But look at you, leaving in such a hurry.”

He opened a bottle and poured it out before the tombstone.

Lu Fengzhou stood behind, expressionless, watching Liu Changyong crouch before the grave.

Liu Changyong looked younger than Qiao Siman in that photograph. The man had thrived in Shanghai, especially in recent years; “rolling in riches” was putting it mildly. He probably controlled a veritable mountain of gold by now.

Back then… he had been involved too…

Lu Fengzhou’s eyes narrowed, a cold gleam flickering in their depths unseen by anyone.

Liu Changyong muttered to the grave for a long time, his voice eventually choked with emotion. Wiping his tears, he said, “Remember when we started out together, bowing and scraping just to please people? I lost count of how many times I wanted to throw it all away, but you talked me out of it every time. A’man, without you, there’d be no Liu today.”

Qiao Jiu took a deep breath, wiping her tears.

Lu Fengzhou stood ramrod straight, hands clasped before him, face impassive. He felt no sorrow—just a kind of rueful reflection, especially seeing the woman beside him in tears.

Liu Changyong rambled on for a while longer. Once the liquor was all poured out, he slowly stood. “A’man, if anything still weighs on your heart, just send me a dream. If I can help, I will.”

He glanced back at Qiao Jiu. “As for Xiao Jiu, as long as I’m here, I won’t let anyone bully her.”

There was a pointed meaning in his words, which both Lu Fengzhou and Qiao Jiu caught.

Qiao Jiu met Liu Changyong’s gaze, recalling the conversation she’d overheard by the restroom. She didn’t know who had been on the other end of the call, but when he spoke of Qiao Siman, his tone had been anything but kind—completely at odds with the emotional display he’d just put on.

After a few more murmured words, the group left the cemetery.

At the car, Liu Changyong turned to Lu Fengzhou. “Mr. Lu, may I have a word?”

Lu Fengzhou glanced at Qiao Jiu. “Wait for me in the car.”

Without a word, Qiao Jiu got in and turned back to look.

The two men stood together, hands in their pockets, their faces both darkened by something unspoken.