Night Wanderer

Sheng Qingrang felt his arm being grabbed and immediately turned around. Zong Ying loosened her grip slightly but didn’t let go, merely adjusting her hold as she led him to the dining table, pulled out a chair, and gestured for him to sit.

Sheng Qingrang took his seat and heard her ask from behind, "If this urgent matter is delayed by half an hour, will lives be at stake?"

"Likely not."

"Then have breakfast."

Her tone wasn’t harsh or rushed, yet it carried an undeniable authority.

Sheng Qingrang stood to retrieve the water glass from the coffee table and had only taken a sip when a steaming bowl of plain congee was placed before him.

Not too thick, not too thin—perfectly cooked, with a sprinkle of dried pork floss on top.

"The milk delivery didn’t come today." Zong Ying sat across from him with a white porcelain plate and a glass of water. The plate held slices of baguette, which looked dry and would no doubt be laborious to chew. She tore a thick piece and stuffed it into her mouth, tilting her head to glance at the newspaper on the table.

It was an English paper— North-China Daily News —reporting on the Japanese fleet’s arrival in Shanghai. Both the text and photographs conveyed a tense atmosphere, yet beyond the news section, the pages were crammed with advertisements and trivialities from the concessions, jarringly out of place, as if depicting another world entirely.

Zong Ying ate with focused effort, the muscles along her jaw working methodically as she chewed and swallowed.

Sheng Qingrang found himself watching her for a moment before snapping back to attention and picking up his spoon to eat the congee.

She finished the baguette quickly, set the newspaper aside, and asked, "Shall I call a car?"

Sheng Qingrang looked up at her. Her gaze met his, and after three seconds, as if receiving an answer, she stood and dialed the phone. Leaning against the table, she spoke to the operator at Yangtsze Taxi Company, requesting a car. The operator asked for the address and then explained, "Many intersections in the concessions are congested, so the car may not arrive promptly. We appreciate your understanding."

The golden era of taxis arriving within ten minutes seemed to have come to an end.

After hanging up, Zong Ying carried the plate back to the kitchen. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of herself in the hallway mirror and realized she was dressed too casually—a white short-sleeved T-shirt and loose gray linen pants weren’t exactly suitable for going out.

As she placed the dishes in the sink, she asked Sheng Qingrang, who was still eating, "Mr. Sheng, are the clothes I wore last time still here?"

Sheng Qingrang, who hadn’t yet finished his congee, set down his spoon at once and asked in a heavily congested voice, "Are you going out too?"

Zong Ying turned on the faucet to wash her hands and countered, "Can you guarantee you’ll be back by ten tonight?"

Sheng Qingrang fell silent. The situation outside was volatile—he truly couldn’t promise to return on time to take her back. So he stood, intending to fetch the clothes for her, but Zong Ying walked out of the kitchen. "Keep eating. Are the clothes in the bedroom?"

He had no choice but to sit back down. "In the chest of drawers by the door, bottom drawer."

Zong Ying entered the bedroom and easily retrieved a cardboard box from the bottom drawer. Lifting the lid, she found the shirt and trousers neatly folded—clearly laundered. She closed the door and changed quickly, pulling on the trousers, tucking in the shirt, and fastening the row of buttons at the waistband—

A perfect fit.

There was no way she could have gained so much weight in just over ten days. The only explanation was that the waistband had been taken in.Zong Ying silently folded the changed loungewear and placed it back into the box. As she stepped out, she noticed Sheng Qingrang had prepared yet another new briefcase.

Yes, the one he used yesterday had been left at her place again. She hoped there were no urgent documents inside.

The car from Xiangsheng Company arrived noticeably slower than last time. The driver’s service remained meticulous, though his smile seemed somewhat forced and heavy.

He asked, "Where to, sir?" Sheng Qingrang closed his eyes and replied, "The Sheng Residence."

The car smoothly navigated out of the street, leaving the French Concession and heading toward the Sheng family mansion on Bubbling Well Road (Nanjing West Road) in the International Settlement. The sky, still a deep blue in the early morning, was now fully illuminated by the sun. The air was stifling, and refugees seeking shelter in the concessions could be seen everywhere. A golden swallowtail butterfly alighted on the car window, oblivious to the storm brewing over this city.

The silence inside the car was unnerving. Zong Ying suppressed her craving for a cigarette, hands tucked in her pockets, saying nothing.

Sheng Qingrang opened his eyes and asked hoarsely, "Miss Zong, you’ll need a plausible identity for appearances—it would make things easier for both of us. Would ‘assistant’ suffice?"

She had used that identity the last time she went to the Coppersmith Guild to find him. Personally, she didn’t mind, but considering he was heading to the Sheng Residence—

"Mr. Sheng, are you going home?"

"Why do you ask? Is it important?"

"Perhaps," Zong Ying answered. "Going home means you’ll see your family. And I may have already met one of them—a young female student. I told her I was your friend. If I show up this time as your assistant, it might raise unnecessary suspicion and complications."

Sheng Qingrang understood she was referring to his youngest sister, Sheng Qinghui. But he said, "It’s fine, Miss Zong."

The car stopped outside the Sheng Residence—a grand villa behind iron gates and towering walls, complete with a private garden, exuding sheer opulence.

At the moment, the gates were shut. Sheng Qingrang stepped out and pressed the electric bell on the wall.

A servant emerged at the sound and, upon seeing Sheng Qingrang, addressed him as "Sir" rather than "Third Young Master."

Instead of opening the gate immediately, the servant bent slightly and said, "The Eldest Young Master has instructed that if you’ve come to discuss relocating the factories, there’s nothing to discuss. He asks that you return to your other pressing duties and cease concerning yourself with the Sheng family’s businesses."

The words were an unmistakable dismissal, but Sheng Qingrang had no intention of backing down. "Please inform the Eldest Young Master that I have other matters to discuss with him."

The servant looked troubled. "The Second Young Miss and her family are also visiting today..."

Sheng Qingrang pressed his lips together briefly before replying, "All the better. I have matters to discuss with Second Sister as well."

The servant was clearly worried that Sheng Qingrang’s presence would be unwelcome, but he had no choice. "Then I’ll go and ask."

Standing to the side, Zong Ying observed the servant’s hesitation and Sheng Qingrang’s forced posture—straight-backed yet visibly exhausted. She inexplicably sensed a deeply buried humility in him, a feeling that struck an oddly familiar chord.

Just as the servant turned to leave, a bright voice suddenly called out, "Third Brother is here!"

Sheng Qinghui leaped down from a rickshaw, generously handing the puller a whole bill before hurrying to the gate. She called out to the servant a few steps away, "Uncle Yao, why aren’t you opening the gate for Third Brother?"The servant called Uncle Yao turned back, his brow deeply furrowed. Sheng Qinghui urged him impatiently, "Hurry up, Uncle Yao! Are you really not going to open the door for me?"

Uncle Yao sighed helplessly and unlocked the iron gate. Seizing the opportunity, Sheng Qinghui grabbed Sheng Qingrang and quickly pulled him inside. Turning her head, she spotted Zong Ying outside and exclaimed, "Ah, aren't you that—" passing acquaintance?

The young girl didn’t plan to delve deeper for now and simply urged, "Come in quickly!"

Zong Ying stepped through the gate and watched as Sheng Qinghui dragged Sheng Qingrang toward the villa.

At that moment, Sheng Qingrang glanced back at her. She lowered her head and quickened her pace to catch up, then reached out to take his briefcase from him.

As soon as they entered, Sheng Qinghui called out, "Eldest Brother! Second Sister! Classes were canceled today!"

The enormous house was eerily quiet, with only Sheng Qinghui’s voice echoing through it. Frowning, she looked around until a head popped out from the second floor—a child of about seven or eight years old, leaning over the railing. "Auntie, you're back! Mom, Dad, and Eldest Uncle are talking in the second-floor living room!" The child’s gaze then shifted to Sheng Qingrang, staring silently without a word.

A child’s reaction was the most direct and honest. He clearly recognized Sheng Qingrang and knew he was an elder, yet he didn’t even offer a greeting—something was off.

Zong Ying noted this detail, recalling the group photo in Sheng Qingrang’s apartment—where only half of his face was visible.

Sheng Qinghui hurried upstairs, followed by Sheng Qingrang, with Zong Ying bringing up the rear.

Their footsteps were nearly soundless on the thick carpet, as if the entire building were a monster that swallowed noise.

Sheng Qinghui was the first to push open the door to the second-floor parlor. Inside, the air was thick with smoke—Second Sister’s Husband and Eldest Brother were both smoking, while Second Sister sat alone in an armchair, arms crossed.

Noticing the door open, all three looked up.

First at Sheng Qinghui, then at Sheng Qingrang, and finally at Zong Ying.

Eldest Brother’s brow furrowed sharply as he stubbed out his cigarette and demanded bluntly, "What are you doing here again?" Second Sister turned her face away, while Second Sister’s Husband continued smoking.

Ignoring the stifling atmosphere, Sheng Qinghui plopped down on the sofa and looked up at Sheng Qingrang. "Third Brother, if you have something to say, sit down and talk." She then glanced at Zong Ying, signaling for her to sit as well.

Sheng Qingrang’s expression grew even grimmer. "Give me a moment. I’ll leave as soon as I’m done."

Eldest Brother pressed his lips together impatiently, leaning back as a heavy breath escaped his nose. "Speak."

Sheng Qingrang took a seat, and as Zong Ying handed him his briefcase, she sat down beside him.

The thick smoke in the room made Zong Ying crave a cigarette, but the situation didn’t permit it.

She turned her head slightly and watched as Sheng Qingrang pulled a few tickets from his briefcase. Then, in his usual composed tone, he began, "Although Mayor Yu is still negotiating with Takamasa Okamoto at the Municipal Council today, both military forces have already entered Shanghai. This negotiation is likely just a formality—the situation is no longer leaning toward peace."

He paused before continuing slowly, "Shanghai won’t escape war. The Sheng family’s machinery factory in Yangshupu is right next to the Japanese Naval Landing Force headquarters. Once the fighting starts, it will inevitably be affected. The National Resources Commission insisted I come and discuss this with Eldest Brother again—they don’t want to see it destroyed in the war or, worse, fall into enemy hands. If we evacuate now, there will be subsidies for relocation and reconstruction—"The eldest brother was already displeased by the early morning news of the work stoppage, and his anger flared even more at this moment, taking on an almost reckless demeanor. He abruptly cut Sheng Qingrang off: "So what if it's right next to the Japanese? The worst that could happen is everything gets blown up! The Sheng family has more than just this one factory!"

"Then, setting aside Yangshupu for now, what about the factories the Sheng family owns in the concessions? Are those unimportant too?"

"Would the National Army or the Japanese dare to just barge into the concessions and start fighting?"

"They wouldn't, but what about air raids?" His voice remained calm and steady. "Bombs don't have eyes—they don't recognize concessions."

The eldest brother grabbed an ashtray and hurled it at him. Sheng Qingrang dodged, and the ashtray smashed onto the floor, scattering gray-white ashes everywhere.

Zong Ying subtly furrowed her brows. Just then, Sheng Qingrang suddenly turned his head and whispered into her ear, "Step outside for a moment."

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but he had already straightened up again, as if nothing had happened.

The room fell silent for nearly a minute. In that brief time, Zong Ying quietly withdrew. The child was still playing in the hallway on the second floor and remained silent even upon seeing her.

As Zong Ying passed by him and descended the stairs, she suddenly noticed a large family portrait hanging on the wall—

There was the eldest brother, the second sister, a young man in military uniform, and the youngest sister, Sheng Qinghui.

Only Sheng Qingrang was missing.

Author's Note:

Mr. Sheng: "Indeed, why was I never invited to family portraits?"

Zong Ying: "It's alright, I'll call you for photos from now on."

—

A few notes:

The North China Daily News front page adopted an American-style layout for important news.

Hongkou District in Shanghai was a significant settlement area for Japanese expatriates in modern times.