Feng Xuan hauled the IT person to his feet. She was much smaller in comparison to his height. But she was still the one who was dominating as she held him by the collars of his shirt, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. "What do you mean he's dead?!"
"I-i-… that's what's on his file. The only family he had left was his brother, but he passed away around ten years ago. He died of pneumonia."
Feng Xuan's fingers tightened on the fabric. "Then who the f.u.c.k is The Zookeeper?"
"I-I will out, Mrs. Qing."
Her emotion died down a little when the man closed his eyes. He looked fairly young, someone around her age. He looked like he was praying. She let go of his shirt as she let out a breath. "Get back to work."
They all went back to their positions and she nudged Qing Chen with her elbow, suddenly embarrassed. "Why didn't you stop me?"
"You seem like you needed to scream at someone. It's okay. I'm sure he understood. A man just told you that you would die at the end of next month. You have the right to be frustrated."
"Nobody told me that," she said. "You did."
"If you look back, I actually didn't. You made the connection yourself." Qing Chen tapped the head of the marker on her forehead. "Do you really think I would let you die? I'll die first before they could get to you. There's nothing to be afraid of."
She swallowed and turned away. "You don't have to die for me," she mumbled. "This fight is between me and The Zookeeper. If I can just challenge him on a one-on-one fight then so be it. That way no one else had to be bothered and this would be over in a jiffy."
"I think he's an old man," Qing Chen said. "If he claims that The Boar was his brother then maybe their age would not be that far apart. If he's older, I'll say he's nearing sixty. If younger, more or less around fifty."
Feng Xuan sighed and took Qing Chen's hand. "Are we staying here tonight?"
"Yeah," he answered. "You go get some rest. My room's on the second door on the right. Second floor. I'll be with you in a minute."
"Okay." She let her hand slip from his and she headed upwards. It was her first time on Qing Chen's childhood bedroom. She was too tired for the day to even feel excited or nervous about entering his room.
There was nothing unusal in his room. It looked like a normal person's bedroom. There was a bed, a computer set, a TV, and gaming consoles on the table. Bookshelves lined his wall. A lot of them looked like they were textbooks from school.
His bed had striped sheets and she tested the mattress first before she sat down. It was so soft that she decided to completely lay down. A military jet was hanging from the ceiling, poised like it was soaring upwards to the atmosphere.
"Right," she whispered. "He loved planes." She tilted her head to the headboard and sure enough, she found miniature airplanes behind the sliding glass. She did not dare take one for closer examination. She knew there were a lot of planes, but not this many.
On his bedside, there was a family picture on a rather simple frame. It had thin black borders and it was the first family picture that Feng Xuan saw wherein Wuming was included.
Feng Xuan recognized the background as the frontyard of this very house. She knew that Qing Chen's mother was foreign, but she did not realized just how much. Her eyes were bright and blue. Her hair was of the lightest shade of brown and her pointy nose made Feng Xuan envious. She had both arms around her three children as they were on the grass and Qing Zihao was there with a pipe dangling from one corner of his mouth, holding a huge cake.
The boys looked like they were only six or seven in the picture.
They must've been really happy, she thought. She wanted to explore some more but without Qing Chen there, it would only feel like snooping. The room suddenly became too personal, like she was an intruder so she got up and out.
From the corner of her eyes she saw a silhouette moved. Everything in her tensed until her brain realized it was just Qing Chen who disappeared in an open door. She padded on the carpet and peeked through the doorway.
She saw Qing Chen standing in the middle of the room, his hands in the pockets of his pants. She lightly knocked on the door and he looked over.
"I thought you were asleep already."
"Can I come in?" she asked.
He smiled. "Of course. Come here." He held out his hand for her and she took it. "I should've done this months ago. Are you ready to meet my mom?"
"I think we got acquainted in your bedroom," she said, her eyes flying over in the dark room. There were small lamps on the corners that lit the room in a warm orange light. Feng Xuan felt like she was in a church.
"Mom, this is Feng Xuan. She's my wife, " Qing Chen said to the picture positioned above the jade urn with golden designs.
"Hello, Mrs. Qing," she said and smiled back at the forever frozen one.
"You can call her mom if you like."
"Don't you think she'd mind?"
"No, I think she will like you. Even though you can kill a man with uncooked pasta," he said and Feng Xuan laughed a little. "She is pretty much used to violence because of us."
"You must miss her a lot."
"I do," he answered. "Everyday. How I wish she's here. Especially now."
She felt his sadness so she squeezed his hand and joined him in silence.