Chapter 15: The Veil of Maya (15)

Page 1 of 3

The next morning, Wen Mingwei woke in Tan Zhao’s arms.

It had not been intentional—

He had been hugged like a body pillow, his long black hair spread across the head of the bed, half of it trapped beneath Tan Zhao’s shoulder and leaving its owner unable to move.

He called out, “Tan Zhao.”

“...Hm?”

The culprit rolled over out of habit, still refusing to let go, apparently intending to move his “body pillow” to the other side. Only after he began moving did he realize that the weight was wrong. Tan Zhao opened his eyes sluggishly.

“...Wen Mingwei.”

Their eyes met. Tan Zhao was awkward for a brief moment before greeting him. “You’re awake.”

“Mm. I’m getting up.” Wen Mingwei pulled his hair free from beneath him and glanced around, but could not find where he had dropped the hair tie from the previous night. He had no choice but to get out of bed with his hair loose and head to the bathroom to wash up.

The toiletries were all disposable, but there were no fresh clothes. Tan Zhao was not fully awake yet. He followed Wen Mingwei out in a daze and trailed him to the bathroom door, watching him wash his face as though he had something to say, yet never quite managing to speak.

Wen Mingwei asked, “Do you have any clothes I can change into?”

Tan Zhao acknowledged him and went to the wardrobe to find him a set of his own clothes. When he returned, he blocked the doorway and suddenly said, “Wen Mingwei.”

“Mm?”

“You have to stay with me tonight too.”

“...”

Once something had begun, repeating it once or twice more seemed perfectly natural. Tan Zhao said with complete ease, “This lounge is too small, and we’re at the company, so it’s inconvenient. I have an empty apartment nearby. Tonight, you’ll come with me and move in there.”

“‘Move in’?” Wen Mingwei noticed his choice of words.

“Mm.” Tan Zhao turned his face away, solemnly. “You’ll just stay with me for a few days, the same as last night. Nothing else.”

As though trying to cover his tracks, he added, “It doesn’t count as living together.”

Wen Mingwei fell silent.

—It did not count as living together. They were merely sleeping together, for an indeterminate number of days.

Tan Zhao saw nothing wrong with this arrangement.

Even taking the most generous view, if there was anything improper about it, Wen Mingwei had been the one to start it. If Wen Mingwei had not hugged him in the car yesterday, there would have been no embrace that night. Without that embrace, there would have been no sharing a bed, and without sharing a bed, none of what was happening now would have come to pass.

Therefore, Wen Mingwei was the true instigator—the one obligated to take responsibility to the very end.

“Good. Then it’s settled.” The young master made his decision with absolute authority. “Besides, you don’t seem very enthusiastic about going to work. Didn’t you say the company was going bankrupt? If things really come to that, let it go bankrupt. Come work for me instead. Stay with me every day, and I’ll give you better terms.”

Wen Mingwei could not help laughing. “Are you saying you want to keep me?”

“Of course not.” Tan Zhao was perfectly serious. “Until you earn a full score for your performance, we’re merely ordinary friends.”

Page 1 of 3

Page 2 of 3

“...”

“Ordinary friends.”

Wen Mingwei did not quibble with the young master. If that was what Tan Zhao said, then so be it. But he did not agree to moving in right away. After considering it for several hours, he finally gave Tan Zhao his answer at noon.

At the time, Tan Zhao was at the hospital arranging his grandfather’s funeral.

Tan Zhao did not want the burial to happen so quickly. Once the body was cremated, the cause of death would be sealed as a settled fact. The doubts surrounding the sudden illness would become impossible to explain, and there would be no opportunity to search for evidence.

For that reason, he had argued with his uncle, Tan Yi, at least three times. His uncle believed the cause of death was already perfectly clear. Both the hospital and the police had provided definite conclusions, and delaying things would not uncover anything new. Keeping the body for too long would instead be disrespectful to the old man and contrary to local funeral customs.

Tan Zhao turned to his aunt, Tan Lu, for help, but she was clearly siding with her elder brother. She too believed Tan Zhao was young and inexperienced, and advised him not to be so stubborn. Whatever else happened, they had to hold the funeral first. Otherwise, quite apart from everything else, the city would be filled with turmoil, and the rumors could not be contained.

Grief, anger, and a trace of bewilderment churned inside him. Tan Zhao shut himself in his car and called Wen Mingwei to complain.

“Do you also think I’m imagining things? My grandfather died of illness? No one harmed him?”

Wen Mingwei asked, “Was an autopsy performed?”

“...Yes.” Tan Zhao still had not grown accustomed to calling him “the body,” and his throat tightened. “I had several institutions examine him, not just this hospital. They all said there was nothing wrong with the cause of death.”

“Have you checked the hospital’s surveillance footage? Every doctor, nurse, and anyone else who had the opportunity to come into contact with your grandfather?”

“They’ve all been checked.”

Tan Zhao tightened his grip on the phone. “Suppose there’s a virus that current tests can’t detect. And suppose no one had the opportunity to poison him. I have no evidence.”

“I have no evidence, Wen Mingwei.”

This was the first time Tan Zhao had ever felt so utterly helpless. Clinging to the only ally he had on the other end of the line, he unconsciously trembled.

“If you were me, what would you do?”

“...”

Wen Mingwei remained silent for a long time before saying calmly, “Some things cannot be handled simply because we want to handle them. If there is only one road before you, then no matter how unwilling you are, you can only walk in that direction.”

“Are you telling me to give up?”

“I’m telling you to grieve properly, and then think of another way.”

“...Another way?”

“Yes. Any evil deed committed with an ulterior motive will eventually reveal its purpose, even if the method used to commit it cannot be detected. One day, you will have the chance to avenge him.”

Wen Mingwei did not state his opinion about the cause of Tan Yingt卓’s death directly, but his consolation made his position clear: he believed Tan Zhao, and he supported him.

His manner was so calm that it seemed somewhat lacking in human warmth. It was neither gentle persuasion nor tender reassurance. Yet it was precisely like a stabilizing pillar, holding Tan Zhao’s scattered wits in place. At last, he found something to rely on. He exhaled slowly and heavily, then listened to Wen Mingwei.

“...All right.”

That afternoon, Tan Zhao agreed to his family’s arrangements and had Tan Yingzhuo’s body taken to the funeral home to prepare for the funeral.

The funeral was set for July 21.

Until that date arrived, Wen Mingwei remained with Tan Zhao. He returned home only once, to retrieve his personal computer and several books for leisure.

Page 2 of 3

Page 3 of 3

When Gu Jing parted from Wen Mingwei several days earlier, he had never expected Wen Mingwei to suddenly move in with Tan Zhao. He assumed Wen Mingwei had come back for his medication, but Wen Mingwei merely said, “I’m not taking it for now. I’m stopping for a while.”

Stopping his medication.

Gu Jing’s heart jolted at the words.

He was afraid whenever Wen Mingwei took or changed his medication, and he was afraid when Wen Mingwei stopped taking it as well. This deep-rooted anxiety was impossible for anyone who did not know Wen Mingwei intimately to understand.

Looking back over the years, Wen Mingwei had probably begun taking medication frequently around seven years ago—the second year after he arrived in Xijing.

The first medication had been perfectly ordinary: standard antidepressants. Later, sleeping pills had been added. Both belonged to the realm of conventional treatment, and there had been nothing unusual about them.

But before long, Wen Mingwei stopped taking such medication—or rather, he began taking more than just those kinds.

He had a high-level biological laboratory under his control, but no doctor could interfere with him. What kinds of drugs he took, whether he took them or stopped, all depended entirely on his own mood.

As far as Gu Jing remembered, from seven years ago until now, the number of times Wen Mingwei had stopped taking his medication could be counted on one hand.

One instance had been particularly typical. It was approximately four years ago, when Wen Mingwei became acquainted with a scholar of Buddhist studies.

The man called himself a scholar, but he was famous throughout the outside world and revered as a great monk.

Wen Mingwei had always been interested in religion. He enjoyed dealing with people who spoke of mysterious and supernatural matters, whether they were so-called great monks or charlatans.

That scholar accompanied Wen Mingwei on a journey. Together they visited many renowned temples and ancient monasteries listed as cultural relics, as well as a newly built technological temple. Inside, a breathtakingly beautiful painted Bodhisattva nearly seven stories tall was enshrined through holographic projection. Floating ethereally in the darkness, it seemed like something from a dream.

Wen Mingwei donated incense money to the temple, stopped taking his medication, and began offering incense, chanting Buddhist prayers, meditating, and discussing sutras every day.

Just as Gu Jing began to wonder whether Wen Mingwei had seen through the vanity of the world and intended to become a monk, Wen Mingwei’s three-month friendship with the scholar abruptly came to an end. They simply could not continue speaking to each other.

Gu Jing did not know exactly how they had parted ways, but the fundamental reason was clear: neither a classical Bodhisattva nor an electronic one could cure Wen Mingwei’s illness. He began taking his medication again.

His dosage increased, and his condition worsened. For nearly half a year, Wen Mingwei hardly left the house.

That was why Gu Jing became so worried whenever he heard Wen Mingwei say he was stopping his medication, though he could not help praying that perhaps this would be the last time, and that there would be no relapse.

Wen Mingwei himself did not think so much of it. He did not believe stopping his medication was something requiring careful consideration. He simply did not feel like taking it for the time being.

On July 21, Tan Yingzhuo’s funeral was held as scheduled.

The memorial service was attended by many prominent figures, while the area outside was open to the media. As a guest who was not well known, Wen Mingwei laid down a flower and left. He did not remain at Tan Zhao’s side.

But Tan Zhao hoped he would not go too far, as though once the distance between them exceeded some invisible limit, Tan Zhao would be unable to draw breath. It was a serious problem.

The young master, however, did not realize that his “problem” was becoming increasingly severe. Throughout the entire day of the twenty-first, he was despondent and unable to distract himself. He kept his head lowered throughout the funeral, his eyes swollen from crying. Some mourned the death of the richest man in the country; others worried over the inscrutable forces at play. Tan Zhao alone was simply shedding tears for his grandfather, making him the most visibly distraught among all the relatives present.

The moment the funeral ended, Tan Zhao left. It seemed he could not endure even one second longer. He had to return to Wen Mingwei’s side before he could regain the pillar that held him upright.

Page 3 of 3