Chapter 2: Like Raising a Daughter

The night before the two families were to meet, Ban Ban sat on the floor with her back against the bed, leafing through an art book. A collection of Monet’s paintings lay open on her lap when three soft knocks sounded at the door.

“Come in.”

Ban Shengwei pushed the door open, and she stared at him for a moment. He wore pajamas under an old cardigan, his hair a mess, like an old man who had just woken up.

He sat down beside her. Father and daughter leaned against the bed, shoulder to shoulder, neither speaking.

After a long while, Ban Shengwei said, “Ban Ban, perhaps we shouldn’t go tomorrow.”

Her hand stopped on the page.

“I’ll talk to Uncle Wen,” he said, his voice raspy. “I’ll tell him you aren’t feeling well. The marriage arrangement can be called off.”

“Dad.” Ban Ban closed the book and tilted her head toward him, her eyes curving into a smile. “I’m willing.”

“You’re only twenty-one.”

“Twenty-one isn’t that young.” She rested her chin on her knees, her voice soft. “Mom was only a little over thirty when she died. She was already pregnant with Sis at twenty-one.”

Ban Shengwei swallowed.

Ban Ban was quiet for a few seconds, picking at the cover of the book. “Dad, I know what you’re worried about. I looked into Wen Ting’an. He just likes women a little too much. He isn’t violent, and I haven’t heard of him hitting women or doing anything outrageous.”

She looked him in the eye. “Sis has Xu. They’ve been together for four years, and you’ve seen how good he is to her.”

Ban Shengwei’s lips moved, but he said nothing.

“Uncle Wen suggested the marriage, but he didn’t hold a knife to our throats and force us. Still, Sis heard him. Dad, you know her. She hates owing anyone, and for the company’s sake, she’d step forward and say yes. She’d think it was her responsibility as the oldest.”

Ban Ban smiled. “But I’m your daughter too. I can take responsibility as well. There’s no one I like, anyway. What difference does it make whom I marry?”

Without warning, tears fell from Ban Shengwei’s eyes. He turned away and hastily wiped them with the sleeve of his cardigan.

Looking at the gray at his temples, Ban Ban felt a sudden sting in her nose. She didn’t cry. Instead, she moved closer, wrapped her arm around his and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

“Dad,” she said, pretending to sound cheerful, “if you feel bad, how about you and Sis work hard and earn enough money that I’ll never run out of spending money up north?”

Ban Shengwei sniffed and nodded hard. “All right. I’ll work hard and make lots of money, so even if our Ban Ban wants to walk sideways up north, no one will dare stop her.”

She burst out laughing. “Crabs are the ones that walk sideways, Dad.”

Outside came the faintest sound of footsteps, followed by a door closing.

Ban Ruo leaned against the hallway wall and covered her mouth. Her throat felt stuffed with cotton.

When had her little sister become so considerate? The same little dumpling who had trailed after her calling “Sis, Sis,” cried forever after a fall, and pouted when she couldn’t have candy.

Ban Ruo took a deep breath and forced her tears back. Then she returned to her room, opened her laptop and went through the company’s financial statements again, from beginning to end.

The next morning, Ban Ban stood in front of her wardrobe for twenty minutes.

At last she chose a pale yellow dress with a round neckline and no sleeves, its hem falling just above her knees. In front of the mirror, she gathered her hair into a bun, revealing her smooth forehead and round cheeks.

When Ban Ruo came in, she found her patting toner and lotion onto her face.

“That one looks good,” Ban Ruo said from the doorway, studying her. “It makes your skin look even fairer.”

Ban Ban turned and smiled. “Sis, look. Are my cheeks still chubby?”

“They are.” Ban Ruo came over and pinched one. “Baby fat is adorable. Other people wish they had it.”

“But Wen Ting’an is already thirty-three. Do you think he’ll look at me and think I seem like a child?”

Ban Ruo’s hand paused. Then she said, “If he dares complain, I’ll fly up there and beat him up.”

Ban Ban giggled.

The families had booked a private restaurant by the river in Jiang City. It was small but elegant. Ban Shengwei had chosen it himself, saying there was no need for a grand affair; the two families could simply share a quiet meal.

Wen Henian arrived first, dressed in a dark blue Zhongshan suit and looking in excellent spirits. He smiled at Ban Ban. “You look lovely today. Just like your mother when she was young.”

She greeted him properly. “Hello, Uncle Wen.” The tips of her ears turned red.

Ban Shengwei shot him a glance. “None of that.”

“Hey, I’m telling the truth.”

“Where’s your son?”

Wen Henian’s smile froze for half a second. “His flight was delayed. He says he’s on his way and will be here soon.”

Ban Shengwei said nothing more and invited everyone to sit. Tea was served. Ban Ban cupped hers in both hands and sipped, glancing at the door from time to time.

After about half an hour, it opened.

The first thing that came to Ban Ban’s mind when Wen Ting’an walked in was that he looked like someone from an old Hong Kong film.

He wore a black suit without a tie, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. His hair was swept back, with a fade at the temples that revealed a broad forehead and a clean, defined brow. He looked refined and commanding.

He was tall, nearly 1.9 meters by her guess, with broad shoulders and long legs. Standing there, he seemed to draw all the light in the private room toward him.

He nodded first to Wen Henian. “Dad.”

Then he turned to Ban Shengwei, smiled and inclined his body slightly. “Uncle Ban, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” His voice was low.

Ban Ban noticed a faint line at the corner of his eye when he smiled. It didn’t make him look old; it gave him the composure of a mature man.

Ban Shengwei waved a hand. “It’s all right. The delayed flight wasn’t your fault. Come, sit down.”

As Wen Ting’an took his seat, his gaze swept around the room. It rested on Ban Ruo for a second. Ban Ban noticed no change in his expression: it was a polite glance. Then he looked at her.

His gaze lingered for two seconds. The corner of his mouth seemed to move, almost a smile.

Ban Ban’s heart thudded. She hurriedly looked down, pretending to study her teacup, while the tips of her ears burned.

Wen Henian made the introductions. “This is Ban Ruo, the Bans’ older daughter. She helps Ban Shengwei at the company and is very capable. And this is Ban Ban, the younger one. She just graduated.”

“Hello.” Wen Ting’an nodded to Ban Ruo, then turned to her sister. “Ban Ban.”

The last syllable of her name rose slightly, as though he were savoring it.

She looked up at him, then quickly lowered her eyes again. “H-hello.”

Wen Ting’an poured himself a drink and raised the glass. “I’m late, so I’ll drink this as a penalty.” He tipped his head back and downed about two liang of baijiu.

Ban Shengwei hurried to stop him. “Hey, don’t drink on an empty stomach. It’s bad for you. Have some food.”

The dishes arrived one after another. Jiang City food tended toward sweetness: glossy red-braised pork, tender white stir-fried shrimp, and a plate of lotus root with sweet osmanthus syrup, a favorite of Ban Ban’s since childhood.

Wen Ting’an picked up a piece of the sweet lotus root and put it in her bowl. “Try some.”

Ban Ban froze for a second. “Thank you,” she murmured, barely louder than a mosquito. She took a bite and realized that the heat from her ears had spread all the way down her neck.

She didn’t notice Wen Ting’an’s gaze lingering briefly on her reddened ears before he looked away and resumed discussing business with Ban Shengwei and Wen Henian.

As they talked and ate, he occasionally put food in her bowl. Ban Ban noticed how observant he was. She didn’t eat cilantro, so he pushed it aside when serving her. She didn’t eat scallions, so he skimmed them from the soup before ladling her some. When he saw her pick ginger slices out and leave them on the edge of her plate, he simply avoided giving her dishes with ginger in them.

By the end of the meal, her plate was clean. Everything she wanted was in her bowl, and nothing she disliked had appeared there.

Ban Ruo watched it all, her brow creasing slightly. This man certainly knew how to charm a girl.

After the meal, Wen Henian drew Ban Shengwei onto the terrace for a smoke and a chat, while Ban Ruo went to the front desk to pay. Ban Ban went alone to the restroom and touched up her lipstick in the mirror.

The restroom was at the end of the corridor, with the terrace just around the corner. After fixing her lipstick, she came out and had just reached the turn when she heard Wen Ting’an’s voice.

He was leaning against the corridor wall, talking on the phone. He gave a low chuckle. “It’s pretty much like raising a daughter. She looks like a child.”

The person on the other end said, “You beast.”

He laughed again. “I’m hanging up.”

His phone clicked as the screen locked.

Ban Ban froze at the corner, her feet rooted to the floor.

She looked down at herself and recalled her reflection: she was 1.62 meters tall, with a round face and baby fat. The pale yellow dress set off her fair skin and pretty features.

How did she look like a daughter?

Didn’t the two of them look quite good together?

She pouted and quietly retreated to the restroom. She stayed there another three minutes before coming out. By then Wen Ting’an was no longer in the corridor.

On the way home, Ban Ruo drove, Ban Shengwei sat in the front passenger seat, and Ban Ban curled up alone in the back with her phone.

After a long hesitation, she typed Wen Ting’an’s name into the search box.

The first result was a financial magazine cover story. Its headline proclaimed: “A Reformed Playboy? Young Wen Heir Doubles Group’s Size in Three Years.”

In the cover photo he wore a black turtleneck, turned partly away from the camera. His jawline was sharp, and his eyes held a hint of casual keenness. He looked nothing like the courteous, gentle man who had served her food at lunch.

Ban Ban stared at the photo for a long time, then quietly closed the page and tucked her phone into her pocket.

She took it out again and searched for his mother.

There was no record. Wen Henian had never mentioned his wife in public, and no one knew who Wen Ting’an’s mother was.

Ban Ban frowned. Was he born out of wedlock? But then she reconsidered. What son born out of wedlock could be so brazen, appearing on a financial magazine cover amid romantic scandals, with Wen Henian indulging his every wish?

She shook her head and put her phone away for good.

Never mind. She was going to marry him anyway.

Once they were home, Ban Ruo knocked on her door.

“Ban Ban.”

“Sis.”

Ban Ruo had changed into pajamas and let her hair down. Her makeup was gone, exposing the dark circles under her eyes. She sat on the edge of Ban Ban’s bed and was silent for a while.

“I saw him putting food in your bowl,” she said.

Ban Ban sat cross-legged on the bed. “Mm.”

“He even picked out everything you don’t eat.”

“Mm.”

Ban Ruo looked at her. “How did you feel?”

Ban Ban thought for a moment and rested her chin on her knees. “My heart beat a little faster. Sis, he’s better-looking than he is in the magazine.”

Ban Ruo laughed. “Won over already?”

“Not exactly.” Ban Ban picked at the pattern on her pajama pants. “It’s just that he didn’t seem like the playboy the gossip makes him out to be, always surrounded by women. The way he looked at me and behaved at the table was quite gentlemanly.”

Ban Ruo reached over and ruffled her hair. “Ban Ban, you’re still too young. You can’t tell what a man is like from one meal.”

“I know.” Ban Ban lifted her head. “I can take my time getting to know him. Once we’re married, I’ll have plenty of time.”

Ban Ruo looked into her clear, trusting eyes and suddenly didn’t know what to say.

Her sister was the one who ought to be protected most, yet at the crucial moment she always became the most resolute of them all.

“Go to sleep.” Ban Ruo switched off the light for her. “There’s more to do tomorrow.”

In the dark, Ban Ban turned over and stared at the moonlight on the ceiling. She remembered the lilt in Wen Ting’an’s voice when he said her name, and the long, well-defined fingers with which he’d served her food.

She didn’t know what life would be like after she married and moved north.

She told herself it probably wouldn’t be too bad.