Chapter 20: Crossing a Line Tonight

When Ting’an opened the door, Ban Ban was sitting cross-legged on the living-room sofa looking at her phone. At the sound, she jumped down and ran barefoot across the carpet to the entryway.

“You’re back?” She looked up, her voice sweet as sugar.

He changed shoes and drew her by the waist, looking down at her, jacket still in one hand, the other arm around her lower back. “How should I punish you?” was the first thing he said.

She understood at once. Smiling, she slipped out of his arms and stepped back, hands behind her. “I don’t know what you mean. Let’s eat. Auntie Jiang has everything ready.”

She turned and ran to the dining room. He watched her go, put down his jacket and followed.

Auntie Jiang was bringing the last soup to the table. As he sat, her habitual glance at his shirt made her freeze. “What happened to your clothes?” She set down the bowl and came closer. “Why are they so wrinkled? The sleeves and the back too.”

Ban Ban sat with her bowl and looked up. The white shirt was indeed artistically wrinkled: clear creases at both elbows and rumpled fabric between the shoulder blades, as if deliberately crumpled and pressed flat again.

She lowered her eyes and put a piece of yam in her bowl.

Auntie Jiang turned to her. “Madam, the shirt…”

“I accidentally ironed wrinkles into it last night.” Ban Ban ate the yam, chewing with full cheeks before swallowing, expression sincere. “Don’t worry. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Auntie Jiang looked between her and the shirt, bewildered. “Didn’t you say you often ironed your father’s clothes at home? That you were very good at it?”

“I am.” Ban Ban didn’t change expression. “My hand slipped last night. I hurt my hand, you know; it isn’t fully better.”

Auntie Jiang looked at her doubtfully, then at Ting’an with an experienced housekeeper’s concern. “I’d better do it next time. The young master is particular about clothes and details. A wrinkled shirt won’t do; people will laugh.”

Ban Ban didn’t raise her head, but glanced across the table. Ting’an was lifting fish to his mouth. At Auntie Jiang’s remark about his attention to detail, he looked at Ban Ban, mouth curving slightly, waiting for her response.

Ban Ban ate a mouthful of rice with relish. She didn’t care whether he minded details or people laughed. Seeing she wouldn’t answer, Ting’an said no more.

Halfway through dinner his phone rang. He set down his chopsticks, glanced at the screen and frowned before answering. He mostly listened, finally saying “Understood” and “I’ll be there” before hanging up.

He stood. “I have to go out.”

Ban Ban looked up. “You’re not finishing dinner?”

“Something came up.” He looked at her, wanting to explain but fearing she’d misunderstand, then turned toward the entryway.

She watched him disappear around the corner, heard the door open and close, then returned to her rice.

Auntie Jiang looked out of the kitchen. “Why did he leave?”

“Something came up.” Ban Ban ate a rib and told herself he’d said not to worry about him or wait up.

After finishing the half bowl of rice, she helped clear the table, went upstairs and showered. In pajamas, she leaned against the headboard scrolling through short videos and food tutorials.

Shortly after eight, Wenjing called. Ban Ban answered. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” Wenjing’s voice was low and urgent.

“Home.”

“Still at home?” Her voice rose, then dropped again. “Someone’s about to steal your husband.”

Ban Ban turned on speakerphone. “What do you mean?”

“Your husband’s at the club. So is the woman who puts on an innocent act.”

Ban Ban rubbed the edge of her phone case. “Lin Sang?”

“Who else? I’m with Zhou Lin. He says it’s her birthday and she’s having a party at the club. I came to look, and Lin Sang’s practically devouring your husband with her eyes.” Wenjing lowered her voice further. “Come quickly.”

Ban Ban leaned against the pillow. “Would that be appropriate? He didn’t invite or tell me. It would be awkward to turn up. What if he’s unhappy?”

Wenjing drew a breath. “You’re his lawful wife. What’s awkward about that? She’s the ex-girlfriend asking her ex to keep her company on her birthday. She should be embarrassed. Come to Dihao Club, third floor. Message when you arrive and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Ban Ban was silent for several seconds. She sat up and put her feet on the floor. “Will he think I’m interfering too much?”

“You’re not going to cause trouble. Show your face, say hello and bring your husband home. Who is Lin Sang to demand my teammate’s husband attend her birthday?”

Ban Ban stood at the wardrobe and changed into a simple white dress. She smoothed her hair before the mirror, took her phone and car keys and went downstairs. Most of the living-room lights were off. She quietly told Auntie Jiang she was going out and left.

The white car waited in the garage. She got in, adjusted the seat and mirrors and started the engine. Her palms were a little sweaty as she drove out, but she took a deep breath and steadied the wheel. She’d never been to Dihao Club, though the navigation could find it.

A row of cars stood outside. She parked and messaged Wenjing, who replied at once: “I’m waiting downstairs.” Ban Ban locked the car and headed for the entrance. Before she reached it, she saw Wenjing waving beside the revolving door.

“Come on.” Wenjing pulled her into the elevator, pressed three and looked at her. “I’m glad you came.”

The corridor beyond the elevator was longer than Ban Ban expected, dimly lit, with private-room doors on both sides. Several stood open, laughter and clinking glasses coming from within. Wenjing led her to a door at the far end.

Ban Ban looked in. The room was large, curved sofas around a coffee table, more than a dozen people scattered about. The lighting was intimate, bottles strewn across the table, cigarette ends filling ashtrays.

Several people were among those Ting’an had introduced to her; some women were strangers. Everyone seemed much taller. The men were at least around 1.8 meters, and even the women averaged about 1.7.

Standing in the doorway, Ban Ban suddenly understood why Zhou Lin had called her short. Beside Dong City people, she was: just over 1.6 meters, like someone dropped into a land of giants.

She took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The noisy conversation gradually fell quiet. Every gaze turned toward the doorway, where her white dress stood out in the dark light.

Zhou Lin, seated near the door, reacted first. He stood, surprised. “Sister-in-law? What brings you here?”

Wenjing followed Ban Ban in. “I asked her to come,” she said naturally, sitting beside Zhou Lin and patting the place next to her. “Sit here, Ban Ban.”

Ban Ban sat and quickly surveyed the room. Ting’an was farther in, beside the place of honor on the curved sofa, several men around him. He held a drink and had changed into a dark gray shirt. Their eyes met briefly when she entered, but he said nothing.

She saw no welcome in his gaze. After a second he looked away, expression unchanged, the same curve on his lips he’d worn while talking to someone. Her heart sank. She sat straight and looked down at the coffee table.

A woman across it was watching her. She wore a mist-blue dress, long hair in loose waves over her shoulders, skin fair, features graceful. Sitting with composure, she studied Ban Ban for two seconds, then rose smiling and approached.

“This must be Ting’an’s new wife?” Lin Sang stopped before her, a little taller, looking down at a natural angle.

Ban Ban stood. She couldn’t speak to her sitting down; the difference in height would weaken everything she said. “Yes. And you are?”

Lin Sang’s smile didn’t change. “Hello, I’m Lin Sang. Ting’an’s…” She paused deliberately, glancing past Ban Ban toward him for a second with an air of easy familiarity. Then she looked back. “I’m his friend.”

She was indeed beautiful, Ban Ban thought: soft brows, straight nose, muted rose lipstick, an elegant and gentle appearance. Had she not been beautiful, Ting’an wouldn’t have fallen for her back then.

Ban Ban smiled and nodded, speaking quietly but clearly. “Hello. I’m Wen Ting’an’s wife, Ban Ban.” She placed particular emphasis on “wife.”

Lin Sang’s smile thinned for an instant, then recovered. “It’s my birthday today.” She indicated the cake and drinks. “I invited Ting’an for a few drinks. We haven’t gathered in a long time, so I thought we’d enjoy ourselves.”

“Oh. Happy birthday,” Ban Ban said politely, with nothing more.

Lin Sang returned to her seat. Ban Ban sat too. Wenjing nudged her elbow and mouthed, “Stay steady.” Then she whispered, “See how she acts? Ting’an this, Ting’an that. Someone who didn’t know would think they were together.”

Ban Ban nodded. “She is annoying.”

The room grew lively again, but something subtle lay beneath it, like an undercurrent below water. Two women beside Lin Sang began chatting at a volume just loud enough for those nearby.

“Sang Sang, remember the night before you went abroad after university graduation? How we all cried.”

“Of course,” the other said. “Someone drank too much and held Sang Sang’s hand, begging her not to go, barely able to stand.”

Lin Sang laughed. “It wasn’t that dramatic.”

“It was. We saw it ourselves. That night Wen—” The first woman seemed to catch herself, glanced toward Ban Ban and stopped. “Anyway, it was quite a night.”

They moved on to university: the student union, clubs, camping by the sea during holidays. Every story included Ting’an’s name. His basketball games that Lin Sang watched; the final exam he somehow passed; the mountain hike where he carried everyone’s bags.

They weren’t deliberately speaking to Ban Ban, but weren’t taking care to keep her from hearing either. Beside Wenjing, she sipped the lemon water her friend had given her. Ting’an remained occupied in conversation and didn’t look at her.

Someone asked Lin Sang, “Sang Sang, you’re still unmarried. Are you waiting for someone?” The speaker’s gaze drifted toward Ting’an.

Lin Sang smiled over her glass. “Waiting for what? I haven’t met the right person.” She looked at no one, but drew out the words “right person” slightly.

Ban Ban didn’t care about her answer. What mattered was that she’d been there over ten minutes, and Ting’an had come over only once to say, “We’ll leave together later.”

He sat deeper in the room, chatting with the men beside him, occasionally sipping or smiling. He didn’t look at her, turn toward her or even gesture in her direction when raising a glass.

Sitting beside Wenjing, Ban Ban thought he must be angry: angry that she’d interfered and appeared uninvited at his gathering, embarrassing him. She shouldn’t have come.

It was an arranged marriage, each getting what they needed. He’d solved her family’s financial trouble; she was Mrs. Wen. His recent kindness—kissing and holding her, eating her breakfasts—was extra, a gift, not an obligation. She couldn’t forget the boundaries of the agreement because of those gifts.

He’d told her not to concern herself with him, yet she’d followed him to his ex-girlfriend’s birthday. How was she any different from women who couldn’t respect boundaries?

Her grip loosened on the glass. She finished her lemon water and set it down. “Wenjing,” she whispered, “I want to go.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to stay.” Ban Ban smoothed her skirt, sounding hurt. “Will you come with me?”

Wenjing glanced at Zhou Lin and Ting’an, then stood. “I’ll come. I’m tired of watching her perform this peaceful-old-memories act.”

Ban Ban picked up her phone and called toward Ting’an, “I’m leaving first.” The room was noisy and her voice quiet; she wasn’t sure he’d heard. He looked up toward her, shadows crossing his face so she couldn’t read it, and his lips moved.

She didn’t want to work out what he’d said. She went to the door, Wenjing following. Passing Zhou Lin, Wenjing said curtly, “I’m leaving.”

They left. Ban Ban walked faster than usual down the corridor, her white skirt swaying at her knees. Wenjing glanced at her without speaking.

Only when the elevator closed did Wenjing ask, “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” Ban Ban watched the floor numbers descend. “I just shouldn’t have come.”

“What do you mean? You’re his wife.”

“An arranged wife. I agreed not to interfere. I crossed a line.”

Wenjing looked at her, wanting to speak, but the elevator chimed at the ground floor. They walked out into the dry warmth of Dong City’s night wind. Ban Ban took a deep breath on the steps, the air washing away some of the stale atmosphere she’d held inside from the room.

Looking toward the parking lot, she said evenly, “He must be unhappy tonight.”

“If I hadn’t come, I’d have felt awful. I came and I still feel awful. Either way hurts. I suppose I was greedy.” She smiled bitterly.

Wenjing patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry about him. Go home and sleep. Deal with it tomorrow. If he comes back and gives you attitude, ask what’s wrong with his wife coming to see him.”

Ban Ban smiled faintly. “I’ll go home. You should go early too.”

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

Wenjing accompanied her to the parking space and watched her get in, start the engine and fasten her belt. Ban Ban rolled down the window and waved. “I’m fine, really. Let’s go out tomorrow. I want to look around.”

Wenjing nodded, wondering whether she shouldn’t have called her here.

Ban Ban drove home. Dong City’s streets were emptier at night than Jiang City’s, broad roads with fewer cars and evenly spaced lamps lighting the pavement. She held the wheel with both hands, eyes ahead, cool air blowing in the car, her knuckles white from her grip.

Near home she slowed. Turning onto the tree-lined road, she saw the primary bedroom light on the villa’s second floor. She’d deliberately left it on when she went out.

She parked, entered, changed shoes and went quietly upstairs. Beneath the quilt, she checked her phone: no new message from Wenjing or Ting’an. She placed it on the nightstand, turned off the light and lay on her side facing the window.

Streetlight filtered through the curtains, dimly outlining the room. She watched the stripe of light for a while, pulled the quilt to her chin and closed her eyes.

She had crossed a line tonight. Starting tomorrow, she would retreat a little, return to not worrying about him, not waiting up, not asking. She would still make breakfast. If he smiled at her, she would smile back. But she shouldn’t ask for the extras.

She turned over and buried her face in the pillow.