Chapter Forty-Four
Family Matters
Disclaimer: I don't own CCS.
"Let me get this straight kaiju. A creepy old man asks you to take your clothes off and change into a tennis uniform and you thought that was normal? Then he asked you to play dress up with him in a bedroom, and you obliged? I knew you were daft but even for you, this is extreme."
Sakura glowered at the headrest in front of her, beyond which lay her brother's head.
"He seemed harmless! And he was really nice. He even offered me tea!"
"Which you surely gulped down before considering it might have been drugged."
"What?! I did not gulp it. I sipped it like a lady! He was gentle and kind and we had a magnificent aftern-"
"You make me wonder sometimes…"
The concern staining her brother's voice, bending it into a tender murmur, froze her heated retort.
"Sakura-san was never in danger," said Fujitaka. "I knew who the 'creepy old man' was so I knew she would be perfectly safe."
"Yeah but she didn't know that."
Fujitaka turned the steering wheel on the minivan and peeked at Sakura through the rear-view mirror. His understanding gaze gently reprimanded her more effectively than any raised words ever could – not that she could remember him ever raising his voice towards her. There were times she had thought she deserved it – like once when she had accidentally scattered all his documents on his desk at Todai University, painting his floor with images of temples and ancient portraits, and the essays of his students. But, as always, he was sympathetic to her despair and that had wounded her into a silence that lasted the remainder of the day. Why did her gentle father have such a clumsy daughter, she had wondered?
"It was irresponsible," he said. "But Sakura-san has always been trusting and eager to try new things, haven't you? And I have encouraged you to be that way – brave."
Was that what she was? Brave? She had never considered herself as such, but it was true that as a child she never avoided doing things other children in her class did. She was usually the first to make friends on the first day of school. She had been the first who raised her hand to join the cheerleading team, and she had participated in several plays, and in most sporting events and festivals. Yet, after she left school her friends had gone to universities, while others pursued their dreams – some of them to great distances abroad – and she had been left to ponder why she was not doing electrifying things too.
"He really didn't seem weird though..." was her weak defence against her brother.
Fujitaka smiled as they drove down the winding path that led to one of her great-grandfather's estate. In fact, they were already on the estate, however it took a few minutes to arrive at the actual mansion. Sakura sank into her seat as she watched the neatly manicured landscape go by. Was Amamiya Masaki as she remembered? Were they all really going to be one happy family after today as Sonomi had inferred? Her father must be asking himself the same thing.
Since yesterday, she had noticed that he was quiet and withdrawn, with a thin worry line forming between his brows. That morning, he kept dropping things from his hand, and he was very rarely ever uncoordinated. Now, he was so pale he could be mistaken for milk. She did not believe that he should be nervous. She could not imagine the Masaki she had met giving anyone a hard time. He had seemed quite sweet and patient.
The French-styled mansion came into view and the salty scent of the ocean wafted over to them on a cool wind. Fujitaka parked in the large courtyard that was constructed around a white, stone fountain, at the top of which stood an angel, arms stretched open.
Two maids appeared at the large, front double doors wearing matching uniforms.
"Welcome," they chorused, with identical smiles. "Please come in."
Touya stared at them like they were the most realistic humanoid robots had ever seen. Fujitaka inclined his head to them and followed the women, his children trailing after him. The small group walked through the mansion straight to a garden where Amamiya Masaki was sitting at a round stone table. He rose when he caught sight of them. He looked thinner. His face was neutral when his gaze landed on Fujitaka and he gave a curt nod before turning his eyes towards Touya. A mild curiosity enveloped his features, but when he saw Sakura, his lips parted in a huge smile.
"Sakura-san! It's been too long."
"Amamiya-san," she greeted with a smile.
He held open his arms and shyly, she walked over to him and hugged him.
"No need for such formalities child," he said. "By now you've been informed that I'm your great-grandfather."
"Hai."
"You're absolutely beautiful," he said, looking down at the floral dress that Tomoyo had designed for her. "You look like a splitting image of Nadeshiko-san, even more than when you younger. Except for your hair..."
Sakura giggled as she glanced at her father. Masaki had sounded so much like Sonomi right then. He walked over to Touya.
"It's my pleasure to finally meet you, young man."
"Same, sir," said Touya.
His shoulders were stiff, and his words were clipped. Sakura held in a smile. She did not realize before now that he had been anxious too. It was his first time meeting their great-grandfather after all.
"Are Tomoyo-san and Sonomi-san here?"
"Not yet," said Masaki, to her father. "I wanted it to be only us four at first."
They ate French cuisine for lunch while Masaki questioned Sakura and Touya about their lives. Masaki marvelled at the fact that Sakura was starting a cupcake business on her own, and that Touya was now a surgeon. Sakura had never realised how similar Touya and Masaki were - they even felt the same. Caring but serious and strong. They seemed to connect instantly even though neither said much to each other.
Sakura gazed around the perfectly symmetrical garden with its fountains, evergreen shrubs and pine trees. There were sculpted topiaries, statues and busts, and pink, yellow and wide flowers of various kinds.
"This garden is amazing…" murmured Sakura.
"Nadeshiko-san used to love it," said Masaki, a wistful shadow passing over his features. "We vacationed here often. Sometimes with Sonomi-san."
He cleared his throat.
"You must be wondering why I called you here," he said. "Your mother left my care without her inheritance. Many in the family will say I was spiteful. Mean-spirited. But that was not the case. The truth of the matter is that she did not want it. She wanted only what her husband could provide. I loved her though she could be foolhardy and tenacious. To decide to live in poverty. She had no idea what that word meant..."
"We're not poor!" said Sakura. "Well... compared to you... but we're all happy. I'm sure Okaa-san was happy. We live a comfortable life, great-grandfather. I promise."
"That wasn't always so," said Fujitaka, who had been mostly silent throughout the reunion. "I wasn't always a university professor, remember? When I met your mother, I was a novice high school teacher. I lived in a ramshackle studio apartment. I barely had money for utilities and food before my first paycheck came."
"I know," said Sakura. "But Okaa-san modelled. She made money too and-."
"She had to model because what I possessed wasn't enough."
Fujitaka's eyes turned in Masaki's direction for a slit second before looking out at the calm ocean, its foamy waves breaking vociferously against the shore.
"Oh..."
"I used to think Amamiya-san was harsh and overly critical when he neglected to accept our wedding invitation, I had personally delivered to him. Now that I am a father, now I that I know what it feels like to raise a girl child – love her, cherish her, fear for her, dream for her - now, I understand. I made Nadeshiko-san suffer. She was accustomed to a certain lifestyle, and she was sickly, but she endured what I could give because she loved me. I should have turned her away. But for an orphan, finding someone who loves you feels like a miracle. I should not have asked her to marry me. Maybe then... she wouldn't have..."
A pained expression washed across Fujitaka's face. Touya's chin dipped low and he passed a finger quickly beneath his right eye. Swallowing the lump in her throat, and Sakura exhaled slowly through her mouth.
"If you and Okaa-san never married, onii-chan and I would have never been born," she said. "Please don't feel bad Otou-san... Okaa-san wouldn't want you to..."
His smile was uncertain as he gazed at her, but it was a smile nonetheless. Masaki cleared his throat and rest his clasped hands on the tabletop.
"What's done is done," he said. "Today is a new day and a chance to correct the wrongs of years past. As such, I invited you over today Touya-san, and you Sakura-san, to give you what should have been yours all this time. Your mother's inheritance has been kept safe over the years, and now I believe it's time to give it to her beloved children. She has stocks, bonds and properties my late son and his wife had left her in their wills. And I have things I wanted to give to her as well. This house is one of them. And now it's yours Sakura-san."
Sakura's eyes widened.
"Mine?!"
Masaki beamed at her in a way that said he was quite proud of himself.
"Yes. All yours. It was one of Nadeshiko-san's favourite places to get away from the city heat. And, she loved the ocean." He drew himself up. "I daresay you two will need to open up new bank accounts. I have financial advisors I want you to meet with to discuss the handing over of wealth and to teach you how to manage it all. I suspect it might all be easier for you to understand Touya-san after your rigorous years of learning at school. I expect you will help your sister protect her interests."
Touya sat up on his chair in slow motion. He nodded but Sakura could see he was not yet used to the idea that he now had more money than he knew what to do with.
"Of course, sir," he answered.
"Learn well, Sakura-san," said Masaki. "Our family is an old one. And we will continue to endure provided that we do not mismanage our businesses and our wealth. This is important for our children's future and our family's legacy. Neither of you carry the name Amamiya, but you are my blood."
Later that afternoon, Sonomi and Tomoyo arrived. The conversation at the table grew lighter and livelier. They all walked along the beach to stories of Nadeshiko and Sonomi's antics growing up. Tomoyo was operating her "4K drone camera to capture precious moments!" which made Touya scowl every now and then, which only made Sonomi highlight how he had acquired his great-grandfather's grumpy disposition. But beneath the joy and laughter, Sakura noticed the tense glances Masaki and Fujitaka would exchange. Ones layered with meaning and apprehension.
Unsurprisingly, when the sun had set that evening, and dinner was eaten, they went off together alone.
"Don't look so worried," said Sonomi when she saw Touya and Sakura staring after them. "Ojii-san is a changed man."
The next time Sakura saw them, they were both standing on a balcony that overlooked the dark, twinkling ocean. She had come to tell them that she and Tomoyo were heading off to bed. Apparently, Sonomi and Tomoyo had brought clothes for everyone so the reunion was turning in to a sleepover, and that must have been their plan all along. What Sakura saw as she edged closer to the balcony made her heart skip a beat. Both men were standing side by side, neither looking at the other, but rather out at the vast waters. Her father's fists were clenched and there was a slight tremor in his shoulders.
Masaki said something to him before turning around. His face looked even more crumpled and weary.
"What did you say to Otou-san?" asked Sakura as he passed her by.
He paused, regarding her like a phantom that had popped out of nowhere. Then he shook his head.
"I said nothing that he did not need to hear."
Masaki walked down the hallway that led to the bedrooms, and she walked over to her father. He was gripping the balcony railings now, his eyes moist.
"Otou-san?"
He tilted his head up and breathed deeply, but he did not answer.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
He looked like he was barely holding it all together. She could not believe her great-grandfather would be cruel to him and leave him in such a state. Suddenly, she no longer wanted to have a sleepover. She wanted to return home and leave without her inheritance. This must have been why Okaa-san-
"I did not realise that all these years, I had been waiting for him to forgive me."
His eyes teary, he smiled and drew her into an embrace. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, comforting him like he had her, all her life. Some part of this wonderful man had been fettered to his twenties, desperately waiting for the approval of his girlfriend's grandfather.
And at long last, he had received it.
A lump formed in her throat as she considered sins she had committed. When his hold on her relaxed, she knew it was time to tell him. Today was about new beginnings and pardoning. If she were lucky, she would be able to sleep with a clear mind and heart tonight.
"Otou-san… I need you to forgive me too."
He pushed on her shoulders gently, and searched her face with a steady gaze. There was no confusion in his eyes, only a compassion and that broke her.
"I didn't go to Hong Kong to work. I never was a nanny or maid. In Tokyo I became a courtesan. I didn't sleep with anyone I swear! Except… Li Xiao Lang." And then everything was pouring out of her like a broken dam along with her tears. "I didn't meet him in Beijing. I met him in Tokyo. I loved him so much, I just wanted him to choose me, so I went to Hong Kong. I knew it was wrong, but I didn't care! I don't know why I couldn't stop myself! I knew I was ruining someone's marriage, and I'm so sorry I lied to you, that I made a fool of you! I-!"
Fujitaka held her close to his chest and cradled the back of her head, shushing her as he swayed with her in his arms.
"Whatever it is you think you need my forgiveness for, I forgive you."
She broke from his hold.
"It shouldn't be so easy for you!"
"Why?" he asked. "You knew you were wrong. You ceased your actions. You are ashamed. Disenchanted and hurt. Why do you need me to harm you further with unkind words? With reticence? I'm your father. It's my job to protect and provide for you. I'm your sanctuary. Whenever you need me to be."
Her shoulders drooped and she stumbled into him for another hug, her cheek pressed hard against his chest.
"Why didn't you tell me you knew I was lying?"
"I was unsure of the outcome. It may have pushed you closer to him. You may have been afraid to come home. And I was confused about my feelings towards Li-san. I liked him. I could not reconcile his generous demeanour with his unfaithfulness. I wanted to be wrong, and when I knew I was right, I wanted both of you to do the right thing on your own. It's also a well-known fact that such relationships never last."
Sakura clutched tight to the back of his shirt.
"You're right. They don't."
"I can't be very judgmental," admitted Fujitaka. "I had no business dating my student to begin with. And, she was too young and idealistic. Overprotected. She was like a little bird, exploring the world with big, wide eyes, not giving a thought to snakes that might be lurking in the bushes.
"It was good then, that she found you and not someone else."
Fujitaka fingered the ends of her hair and when she gazed up at him, he caressed her cheek.
"You've always thought highly of me. It made me feel like SuperDad. Especially when I believed I was the worst father in the world."
Remembering Sonomi's words about what her mother would say, she told him, "I'm so glad."
That night, as Sakura stood brushing Tomoyo's hair in their room, she noticed that the girl was far too quiet. Earlier, she had been the liveliest of the household, running about trying to capture everyone with her drone. Now, there was only a hush.
"Are you alright?" asked Sakura.
"Hai. I am enjoying our time together."
"It seems like there's something terrible on your mind."
Tomoyo shifted on the vanity bench, before looking around at Sakura.
"I do not want to say. I... I do not think you want to know. I am uncertain..."
Sakura dropped the length of Tomoyo's hair that had been cascading over her left hand.
"Tomoyo-chan… please, tell me."
"An associate of Okaa-san heard a rumour. One concerning… Li-kun."
Sakura's heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name but she ignored it.
"What rumour?"
"Apparently, no one has seen him in almost two weeks," she said. "They think he is in the hospital. The press has seen several Li family members going in and out of a private hospital in Central."
Fear punctured Sakura's heart.
"What...?"
"There is a good possibility they are mistaken!" exclaimed Tomoyo, shooting to her feet.
A hand over her belly, Sakura stepped back, suddenly feeling lost. Syaoran did not get sick. If he was in a hospital, it must be for something serious. She went to her bed, threw down the brush and picked up her phone.
"Are you sure you should call him?" asked Tomoyo.
"I'm not calling him."
She dialled Wei's number and though it was late, he answered promptly.
"Hello, Miss Sakura."
She could feel her unease melting away. He sounded tranquil and composed.
"Wei-san. It's nice to hear your voice."
"The feeling is mutual."
She was not sure if he was just being polite, but his words cheered her up.
"I'm sorry I didn't say a proper goodbye."
"No need to be sorry, Miss. I'm happy that you got what you wanted. You're back home."
"I was awake."
She glanced at Tomoyo, who was listening to the conversation with rapt attention.
"I... I called because I heard a rumour... that he was unwell? In the hospital?"
There was a short pause.
"Wei-san?" asked Sakura, starting to fear the worst again.
"I heard the rumour as well," said Wei. "After you left, Master Xiao Lang was quite crestfallen. He did not eat, and he barely slept. He needed some time for himself. He went on a short vacation without telling anyone. He will be back soon."
Sakura sighed in relief.
"That's good to hear. But... people saw Li family members going to a hospital..."
"One of his second cousins got injured. The family visits and supports each other in hard times."
"Okay. Okay. Well um... you don't have to tell him I called."
"He would be happy to know you did..."
"I don't want him to think... that I still… that I want…"
"Master Xiao Lang understands that you do not want to be in a relationship with him. He also expressed to me his desire to keep his distance because you required that of him."
Sakura pushed back her bangs. He did? As the seconds passed by, she questioned why she was still on the call. Tomoyo was still watching her with soft eyes, and Wei was waiting for her to wrap up the conversation, she was sure.
"This may not be my place to say," said Wei. "However... Master Xiao Lang also expressed to me that he has not faltered in his resolve to end his marriage."
"Oh…"
"When he first told me that he was bringing you to Hong Kong, honestly, I was shocked and displeased," he said. "But I've watched you two for months. You might not believe the words he says to you, but you can believe me, Miss Sakura. He loves you. It must have been frustrating to be in love with someone who doesn't know how to show it. But I think he wanted… wants… to learn how to love you in the way you need. Because you see, I know he loved the way you loved him."
Wei's words blanketed Sakura in hopefulness she did not want to have. What could she say? Her mind was made up. Japan is where she was meant to be. And at the back of her mind, Kenichi's face briefly emerged. She never had to guess what he felt. Even without her asking, he was helping her with her patisserie. In time, he would prove to be the better man… right?
"May I ask," said Wei. "If there is a chance for him in the future? A year or two from now? Knowing Master Xiao Lang, I think he would wait even longer."
She recalled Touya's words about his own relationship with Mizuki Kaho. How it was not worth it to give her another chance. And she wondered, would Syaoran really wait years? She meandered onto the bedroom balcony and looked out at the moody night sky. Syaoran was imperfect and so was she. At this point, they had both hurt each other. Left scars on each other's hearts. Only time would tell if they could be together again. However, despite what she had said at their last meeting...
"I'm sure one day... we can have lunch."
She heard Wei breathe out. Had he been holding his breath? It was sweet how he felt for Syaoran.
"That's great to hear, Miss Sakura."
"Please don't tell him that. Not now."
"I won't."
"He really is okay?"
"Yes."
"Thank you for taking my call Wei-san. I'm actually at my great-grandfather's place - well I suppose it's mine now... Anyway, I'm here with my family. That's when I heard the rumour."
"Your great-grandfather? You've never mentioned him, but I know a good deal about Professor Kinomoto and Mister Touya!"
"We were estranged," she said. "But now we've all made up. In a way, the Amamiya's are like the Li's. All tradition and ego."
She laughed lightly.
"Amamiya?" asked Wei. "Would you happen to be referring to Amamiya Masaki?"
"Yes," said Sakura. "He's my great-grandfather. On my mother's side."
"I see."
Something in his tone made her ask, "Do you know him?"
"We met once," said Wei. "I doubt he remembers."
"Well I should let you get some rest," said Sakura. "Enjoy your evening."
"Good night, Miss Sakura."
When she returned inside, Tomoyo came over to her.
"What did Wang-san say?"
"He's fine. He's on vacation. One of his cousins is in the hospital."
Tomoyo placed a hand over her heart.
"That is unfortunate, but I am relieved he is fine," she said. "The family and Yamazaki-kun and Chiharu-chan are not taking my calls. I could not find out anything."
"That's because of me. I'm sorry."
"I am not," said Tomoyo, taking up the brush from the bed, and gesturing for Sakura to sit down. "Family first."
Hundreds of miles away in Hong Kong, Wei wilted into a dining chair. He put his smartphone on the dining table and pinched his nose bridge.
"It was wrong to entreat to her on his behalf."
Opposite him, Jie cast a sympathetic look at him.
"You had to. You love him."
"I've known Miss Meilin since she was a child."
"We all knew what their relationship is," she told him. "We all know love when we see it. They never had it. Not in the way that matters. No one should be in a loveless marriage. Miss Sakura is a better match."
"She had an affair with him. Madam Yelan will never accept her."
"You might be right." Jie rose from the table. "It's time to get some sleep, Wei. Worry and fret tomorrow."
Everything was black, but then Syaoran's eyelids flickered open. Blinding light poured into his eyes and he cringed, like the sharpest nails were being dragged across a chalkboard. He twisted and weights were pressed against his chest and arms, pushing him back down. There were sounds and voices everywhere, none of which he could decipher into anything familiar or coherent. His breaths grew shallow and quick, as his blurry vision tried to make sense of the alien figures hovering over him. Then, everything was black again.
His nose ached. Something foreign was there. His throat felt strange too. More voices came to him, fading in and out. His arms and legs would not move. His heart started to race. Why could he not move? His eyes cracked open. Tubes were tape to his chest and arms. They all ended somewhere but he was not sure where somewhere was. A figure hung over him. It smelled like flowers. He blinked tiredly. Everything felt so damn demanding.
"Little brother...?"
Her hair was short and brown. A sob rose up his throat. She had come back! He reached for her and she held his hand but once more, darkness overwhelmed him. Then, he was crouched beneath a table. Hiding. He put a hand to his mouth, trying to hold back the giggles rising up his throat. He rolled onto his back in glee, as he heard the footsteps drawing near. Then knees met the ground, right near his head.
"Found you!"
He screamed in joy as he was dragged out by his ankle. The face that brought him incredible happiness smiled down at him, and the man whom it belonged to tossed him into the air.
"You always use one of three spots," he said. "And this one is your second favourite."
"I didn't think you'd look this time. Next time will be harder, Father."
"I'll still find you," said Zihao.
"Because you're smart? And good at 'hide and seek?'"
"Because you're my son. When you go missing, it worries me."
"I was just playing..."
Zihao shook his head.
"Make sure I know you're playing next time."
More blackness. Then Syaoran was looking up into the darkest brown eyes he knew. Those perfectly painted red lips were moving. Asking him something. He understood each word spoken yet, he could not comprehend what they all meant. She squeezed his hand. He wanted to squeeze back. But he could not make his fingers work all the way.
Next, he was sitting on a sofa, in an apartment of pastel hues. A dozen gift boxes littered the floor and there were hundreds of roses in vases on the kitchen table. The television was on and he was watching a cartoon, the volume louder than he was allowed to have at home. His father emerged from a hallway and nodded to him with a smile, just as a woman with red hair and Western features walked out behind him.
"Ready to go?" asked Zihao.
"Yes," he said, getting to his feet.
Zihao pulled him close, the smell of peach-scented soap enveloping Syaoran. He spoke to the woman as they left the apartment, and Syaoran went ahead to push the elevator button. He glanced back and saw the woman's lips break from his father's. Then she caught Syaoran's gaze and winked playfully. He blushed and turned around.
Then, he was sitting in the car, opposite his father, the city rolling past them. Zihao checked his watch.
"Dropping off her birthday presents took longer than expected," he muttered, with a soft sigh.
Syaoran peered out the window. He could not respond. He could not look at his father. Why?
"Are you mad at me?" asked Zihao.
"No..."
"I promise we'll make it in time for your football game," he said. "I know it means a lot to you. Your sisters are all wearing matching caps to support their talented little brother."
Syaoran closed his eyes and groaned.
"They're humiliating..."
Zihao threw his head back and laughed which in turn made Syaoran smile.
"You're rather blunt and disdainful of their enthusiasm. You must appreciate their efforts to show how much they love you."
Syaoran lowered his gaze.
"Do you... do you love Mother?"
He peeped at his father, though he felt like he was asking something children could not ask adults. Zihao took a controlled breath, never once breaking eye contact with him.
"You're asking because of Celine?"
Syaoran nodded.
"Celine is a companion. She amuses me. She'll never compare to Mother, I assure you."
Syaoran twisted his mouth as he thought.
"You kiss her. But you never kiss Mother."
Zihao gave another short burst of laughter as he glanced out at the passing landscape.
"Mother doesn't want to kiss me anymore."
Syaoran gasped in outrage.
"M-make her!" he spluttered.
His father leaned forward.
"It is a wicked thing to force a woman to kiss you," he said, becoming serious. "Never 'make' a woman kiss you. You must have permission."
Syaoran thought about this before nodding in agreement.
"Ask Mother for permission!"
Zihao's nose crinkled.
"I am Li Zihao. I don't ask."
"Then how do you get permission?"
Zihao leaned back in his seat.
"A lady offers. I accept."
Syaoran's brows furrowed. There was something he was not understanding. But what? Kisses were very complicated. He hoped he never had to kiss anyone, he thought, as he twiddled his thumbs. Also, his mother and father had not been speaking much this past week. That happened sometimes and it always made his tummy hurt.
"Maybe... just this once... because it's Mother... you can ask."
"Your mother is a stubborn woman-"
"-she might want to-!"
"Xiao Lang-"
"Ask her!" Syaoran roared, slamming the side of his fist against the car door.
Zihao folded his arms and huffed.
"You look like your grandfather right this moment, do you know that?" he scowled. "He tries to bully me too. But I do what I want now. I answer to no one. Certainly not a seven-year-old!"
They held each other's gaze for a long time, before both fell into a fit of laughter. Zihao pulled him into his lap in a big hug and ruffled his hair.
"Fine. Perhaps one seven-year-old."
Two familiar faces looked down at Syaoran. One in a white coat, and another in a dark suit who resembled his father.
"...your name," said white coat. "Can you tell us your name?"
"Li..." he said, without thinking. "Xi... Xiao... Xiao Lang..."
"Where did you go? Xiao Lang. Where did you go?"
"My son is exhausted Yelan. He had an eventful day. A good mother would put him to bed. Not interrogate him."
Zihao waltzed into the room and sat on the chaise lounge, wearing slacks and an open robe, an aggravated expression settling on his face. Syaoran crawled into bed and slipped beneath the covers to show him that indeed, he was being put to bed. But the tension between his parents was crackling like a lightning storm. He has learned about them in school just this week.
"You're trash. You corrupt the innocent and you speak to me about being a good parent?"
Syaoran could only see her in profile, but his heart sank at her face of fury. He knew where this was heading. His father only became deadly calm when he was furious himself. And the man would give the most emotionless stare that was more alarming than his mother's temper.
"Careful how you refer to me in front of my child," he said, his voice like his jian's blade.
She scoffed.
"You worry about my words. But you have no qualms about parading him up and down with your whores. If you're going to see them, leave him home. If they call you when you're with him, send him home." She rose to her feet. "You're a depraved husband but you can at least try to be a good father."
"I can take him wherever I want. To meet whomever I choose. He is as much mine as he is yours. More in fact. It was I who put him in you. Many women would be grateful, but you..."
Yelan's head tipped to the side.
"What example are you setting for him? For your daughters?"
Zihao pursed his lips, his gaze boring into Yelan like a screwdriver. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it.
"Xiao Lang. Tell your mother where we went."
Syaoran pressed himself back against his pillows. His father looked at him expectantly.
"South Africa," he murmured.
"Did we meet any women in South Africa?"
"Don't you drag him in-!"
"No," he lied, even as he recalled the businesswoman with the glowing chocolate skin who smelled like cinnamon. "We saw giraffes. And lions. And gazelles. I petted a large turtle."
Yelan's eyes became sad, and Syaoran looked away. She came over to him and kissed the top of his head, before making him lie down.
"That must have been exciting!" she said, a slight tremor in her voice. "You will tell me all about it later."
"Alright..."
"Sleep well now. You have school in a few hours. I will take you myself."
When she left, his father came over to him and sat on his bed. But Syaoran turned his back to the man.
"Xiao Lang..."
"You didn't ask her, did you?"
"What?"
"For a kiss."
"She will say no."
"How can you be sure if you don't ask?"
"Xiao Lang... your mother is right. I'm not a decent husband. She doesn't want to kiss me and it's understandable. I told you, you cannot force a woman to kiss you."
"You can try to be."
"Try to be what?"
"A good husband..."
"I have," said Zihao, his voice rigid. "I swear to you that I've tried. When you were in Mother's belly, and two months after, I was very good. But I have... weaknesses. It's a terrible thing to realise your father is not perfect. But I've never hidden my true self from you - only the girls. Perhaps I should have. Your uncles suffer the same affliction as me, though they don't see it as such. It's too late for us. But you know who will be a good husband?"
Syaoran turned around to look at him.
"My son," Zihao answered himself with a smile. "You'll be good to Meilin. Or whomever. Mother will make sure of that. She is wise. You should always listen to her. Even more than you listen to me. Even when she tries your patience. Believe me, she will."
"I don't like lying. I don't like when Mother cries. Or when you're mean to her. Sometimes, I don't like you at all."
Zihao seemed to have stopped breathing. Syaoran had never been slapped, but somehow, he thought that night might be the night. Instead, his father wiped his hand down his face and exhaled sharply.
"I'm sorry I made you lie. I won't make you do it again. Now go to sleep." He kissed Syaoran's forehead. "You're right not to like me. Even so, I love you."
He got up and looked out the windows.
"Father?" said Syaoran, gaining his attention. "I love you too. But don't make Mother sad again."
Smirking, he asked, "Or what?"
"I'll steal your sword. And I'll stab you with it."
Zihao solidified for seconds, but then grinned.
"My own son is threatening me," he said, proudly. "You truly are a Li. Ferocious. Fine. I'll ask her."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
Syaoran's eyelids flickered again. Light dotted his vision and then he was falling. Weightless. Down, down, down he went.
"This is the best ice-cream in the world!" exclaimed Fuutie in delight. "I'm in heaven!"
"We are too!" chorused, Fanren, Shiefa and Feimei.
"Father, have some of mine," said Shiefa, reaching over the table and sticking a spoonful of ice-cream in his face.
"Mine too!" said Feimei, pushing her sister's spoon out of the way to present her own.
Syaoran cringed. They were always so loud. A few people in the restaurant glanced their way but said nothing. Syaoran had learned that people allowed his family to do things others would get scolded for. He was not sure why, but he knew it had something to do with his father. Everyone liked him and no matter where they went, he knew people and spoke to them in their own language.
They were all sitting together on a semi-circular couch, a round table between them filled with several dessert items. He bit into a pastry before carefully resting it back on his plate so that he would not dirty the table with crumbs.
"Sit up straight, Xiao Lang," said his mother from between his sisters.
He immediately readjusted his posture and his father who was sitting at the end of the sofa opposite him, nodded in approval. Syaoran smiled and drank from his glass of water. Then the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Something almost undetectable had changed within his father's eyes but he saw it, and he knew what it meant.
Sure enough, a pretty lady with jet-black hair that fell to her waist came stepping past Syaoran. Her hips swayed from side to side and she flashed a smile at their table as she went, her long legs entrancing in her short, black skirt and high, super thin heels. How did women walk in those shoes? She flipped her hair back just as she walked from their line of sight.
Syaoran's gaze flew to his father's. He looked like he was listening to Shiefa, a warm smile on his face, but his hand on the tabletop clenched into a tight fist that made his knuckles white. Knowingly, Syaoran stared at his mother as he set his glass back on the table. Her jawline was hard and though she was smiling at Shiefa as well, her eyes said that she was thinking of something else.
Zihao laughed at the joke Shiefa had made, before needlessly dabbing his lips with his napkin.
"How am I so lucky to have such smart, beautiful, funny girls?" he said. "Your future husbands owe me a great debt."
"FATHER!"
He chuckled and slid out from beneath the table.
"Excuse me everyone. I need to visit the washroom."
Yelan looked at him but said nothing. As he turned, Syaoran jumped off the sofa.
"I'll go too."
"Xiao Lang, you stay here," said his mother.
"But I have to use the washroom too!"
Zihao looked towards the direction he was heading then back at Syaoran. He flexed his fingers. There was no telling what the verdict would be but finally, he nodded.
"Let's go."
When they went the wrong way a minute later, Syaoran exclaimed, "Father-!"
"I thought you didn't like to lie."
Caught, Syaoran flushed and shrugged. The lady in black was standing near the bar on the other end of the hotel restaurant. She stared curiously at Syaoran before turning her gaze on his father, but Zihao took his hand and continued on without a second glance at her. They went onto the rooftop from which the skyline of Tokyo could be seen. There they sat on a bench in silence for a few minutes. Suddenly, Zihao was looking down at him with something akin to admiration.
"Thank you, Xiao Lang."
Syaoran snuggled into him and hugged his waist. Zihao closed his eyes and tipped his head back, the afternoon breeze ruffling his hair.
"I have a problem," he said, opening his eyes and squinting into the sky. "Perhaps... I do need help."
"Can I help you?" asked Syaoran.
"You already have."
Syaoran angled his head in question. Then he remembered.
"Did you ask Mother yet?"
"Be patient, Xiao Lang. I will." His father smirked. "A man must be strategic."
"Uncle Chao says that."
"I taught him well."
Zihao knelt in front of him and took his smaller hands into his own.
"I want you to know that things are going to be better at home," he said. "I've been thinking about it for some time. I'm going to try again. Maybe before, I didn't try hard enough." He lay his forehead on their entwined hands. "Certainly not as much as you trying to fix me."
Darkness and light pulsated around them. Then Syaoran was standing in front of a tombstone, a host of people in black suits around him. His sisters were slumped against each other, their eyes red. And his mother was accepting condolences, whatever they were... her face hard and stoic. When she walked him to his bedroom later that evening, his body drained of most of its life, he stepped inside the room and turned to look up at her.
The wails of his sisters pierced the air from their rooms down the hall. Yelan knelt in front of him and gripped his shoulders.
"Xiao Lang... you haven't cried. You... you don't have to pretend to be strong. Not here. We're home. There are no cameras or strangers. You can be yourself. You can show how you feel."
Wei had said something similar when the accident had happened. But Syaoran had not felt like crying. He had not felt anything at all. His father was gone. Nothing could bring him back. Yet, it still seemed like he could walk through the doors at any moment.
"You should go to them," he said, hearing his sisters crying still. "Father would."
She sighed and stood.
"I'll return soon. I'll bring you some jasmine tea and we'll speak."
Just as she made to leave, he said, "Mother."
"Yes?"
"Did he ever ask you? Father was supposed to ask you something. Did he?"
For over a year the man had kept saying soon but Syaoran would not give up. His mother shook her head 'no' but then her eyes widened.
"He asked me for a kiss that day... He said he promised you he would."
Syaoran gripped the edge of his bedroom door and grinned, elation flooding his veins.
"He's trying to be a good husband for you. I knew he would ask! What did you say? Did you kiss him?"
Yelan stumbled backwards, her eyes watery. She put a fist to her lips and closed her eyes, drawing a deep, shuddering breath.
"Xiao Lang..."
"You said no..."
"Xiao Lang... listen..."
"He was right..."
She stepped towards him and he slammed the door in her face, so hard, the paintings on his bedroom walls rattled. He locked it and went over to his bed. He slid to the floor and pulled his knees to his chest, his grief consuming him entirely as he ripped at his hair. He did not know then that it would be the last time he cried for almost two decades, but cry he did, until there were no more tears left in his small body.
Beep... Beep... Beep... What was that sound? Beep... Beep... Beep... Beep... Beep...Beep.
"I don't want to."
"Meilin is already downstairs. Are you going to be a poor host and stay in your room?"
"No. I want to go outside and practice with my jian. Alone."
"I told you that you would have to reduce the number of days you practice. Today is not a practice day. I know this to be a fact because I wrote your monthly schedule."
Syaoran sat on his bed, his back straight and his features hard.
"Father would let me practice."
A thin vein in Yelan's temple pushed hard against her skin.
"Your father is not here. I am. And you will listen to me."
"Why?" he muttered. "He didn't."
His mother was tall but she seemed to become giant in her anger, and despite his combative words, he flinched.
"I know you grieve differently from your sisters. However, three years have passed. Zihao being gone does not give you permission to be insolent. For that remark, you are forbidden from playing football for a month. Now, you will go have brunch with Meilin as Zihao would have agreed to if he were here. I know this because I knew him longer and more intimately than you. If you refuse to be a good host, I will take that jian away. You will never see it again."
Syaoran's chest swelled but he did not let the uncouth words he was thinking rise to the surface. His mother, Li Yelan, took everything away. Whenever she felt like it. Anything he liked doing was removed from his schedule and replaced with things she and his uncles Chao and Song wanted him to do. Three against one was not a fair fight. He would never win. But he could keep his father's jian if he went downstairs and had brunch with Meilin. And, he did recall, even if he did not want to, that his father had once said he should listen to his mother. Even when she was unbearable.
The room shifted about like a Rubik's cube in the hands of a genius.
"Meilin's twentieth birthday is two weeks from today," said Yelan, from behind her office desk. She slid a small box to him across the wooden top. "Give this to her."
Syaoran opened it to find a silver ring with a ruby stone, surrounded by diamonds.
"Mother... this is an engagement ring."
"It's a family heirloom."
Syaoran tensed in his chair. He shut his eyes and briefly contemplated how this exchange was going to unfold before opening them again. Finding his voice that had crawled to the back of his throat he said, "If I give this to her, she would view it as a marriage proposal."
"As she should. You two have been as husband and wife since you were seventeen. You hesitate now when the time has come to make it official?"
"I-I... we..."
"You think I don't know what happens beneath my roof?" asked Yelan, without a trace of a smile on her lips. But then, she freed him from her arresting stare and turned her attention to the trees beyond the office windows. "I am not entirely upset that it happened. Jinhai certainly is not. He is pressing for the engagement."
"It's not the right time," said Syaoran. "I have many business matters I need to deal with. I-"
"-need to show commitment and prove you are responsible in all facets of life, if you want me to make you CEO. Decide. Do you want to be the chief decision maker at Li Corp or philander yourself across the globe?"
"Mother, I do not involve myself in such... vapid relations-"
"I've heard otherwise."
"You believe those accounts over my own?"
Yelan stood.
"Though your relationship remains secret, stories of your international harem are embarrassing for Meilin. Give her the ring and you will be promoted."
He followed her action and rose to his feet.
"Does this ultimatum come on the heels of those girls in London?
"The ones Meilin found naked in your bed?"
The disgust dripping from her words told him he was right.
"I don't know who they were. I went to have a shower and when I came back to my room they and Meilin were there."
In a rare moment of unchecked emotion, Yelan's voice grew agitated and her gaze snapped to him.
"I've been through this scenario many times before Xiao Lang! The stories, the lies, the rampant disrespect. Yet, with all my excessive experience you insist on convincing me that I am fool. Just like -" She shut her mouth firmly and smoothed a hand over the front of her traditional dress, catching her breath. "I am not slow-witted. Neither is Meilin."
Her mind was made up. There was no point to trying to plead his case. His mother seemed to care more about Meilin than her own children at times. There were times he understood why that was and there were times, like now, where he could not bring himself to give a fuck. It was too exhausting constantly having to fight his mother's image of him. Syaoran placed the ring back in its box and closed it with a snap.
"When will I be CEO?"
"One month after you propose."
Syaoran walked out of the office and straight into in a large auditorium. It was a fundraiser. Crowded. Everyone was trying to talk to him. He must have done something great because they were clapping. Suddenly, he was suffocating. He hurried down a corridor and opened the door there. He had to escape. But as it shut behind him, he found himself in a gala. He found another door. Opened it. Closed it. He was at a political function. Another door. Open and close. A shareholder's meeting. Mother calls. Demands. Demands. A construction site visit. An awards show. Another political function. Chao calls. More demands. A decadent party. More doors. More flamboyant emptiness. Another door. Meilin standing on a balcony. He reached out and grabbed her. Consoled her in his arms.
It was all his fault.
She dissolved in his arms. Another door appeared. Open and close. More fundraisers. Business meetings. Family gatherings. Open and close. A libertine jamboree. Another door. Open. That smile. Mesmerizing green. Sakura! He ran to her, fast and hard, like a horse on steroids. But he did could make it any closer to her than ten feet. She turned, opened a door up ahead and vanished behind it.
"Sakura! Sakura! Please!"
Please.
He continued to run, straight onto a treadmill in a brightly lit, stark white laboratory. A metal mask covered his mouth, his torso was bare and he was wearing a pair of black slacks. Tubes issued from his arms, chest, and back. They were connected to the machines humming around him. Monitoring him. Behind the large, futuristic interfaces of the computer screens, sat his mother, Uncle Chao, Uncle Song and Meilin, reading the information that was relayed to them from the machines. A silent horde of cousins and aunts hovered in the background observing him too, whispering to each other.
The treadmill beeped and rose into an incline. Breathing harder, Syaoran kept pace with the new challenge. He was unbearably thirsty but he had to run. The more he ran, the more things changed around him. The machines became sleeker, more hi-tech, and his family's clothes grew more elaborate and pristine. Their smiles all grew wider also.
His feet ached but still he ran. As fast as he could. Chao smirked from behind one of the computer screens. He pressed a button and the treadmill's incline grew steeper. Syaoran grit his teeth. Not out of pain but fury. Everyone applauded his speed even as his bones turned to dust at the joints. This went on and on until he was almost running parallel to the wall.
Chao and his mother came and stood beside him.
"He's almost spent. We will need another to replace him."
"Not yet. Xiao Lang is strong. He can take more. He can last longer."
Chao looked at the machines around them.
"He's weaker than you think. He's not like his father."
"He's better," said Yelan, eyes wide and maniacal. "He will be better. By his will or my own, he will be."
Syaoran wanted to scream but the steel mask was one with his flesh. He was tired and cold. He wanted to be anywhere else but here, and yet, he could not stop running. He had to. He had to run. He felt his heart erupt in his chest, felt his lungs tear and his mind shatter. Still he ran.
Until a large shadow swallowed him whole.
Syaoran gasped into the darkness.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Wincing, back sore, he shifted on the bed.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
He groaned softly and summoned enough strength to blink his eyes open. There were objects within the darkness swaddling him. What were they? A television, table, machines glowing on either side of him. His limbs were heavy, and he could barely move his head. But his eyes found the large window, below which lay Li Yelan, sound asleep on a daybed, moonlight seeping across her face. Why was she here? Where was he? Did it matter? Did anything matter anymore?
Yes, he answered himself. Some things still matter.
Staring at the vaulted ceiling, Syaoran's face screwed up in agony, his body trembling from head to toe. His molars clashed against each other and he took another look at his mother. Still between dreams and reality, he heard his father's voice as though he were close enough to whisper into his ears.
"When you go missing, it worries me."
Don't worry, he thought, nails biting into his palms. I'll never go missing again.
A/N
Hey Tomodachi!
Thank you for every single one of your reviews! Check back this week for Chapter Forty-Five! And for those who read APCTFC, three chapters are coming very soon.
To the reviewer who was failed by GOT... I feel with you, I really do... sigh... what is dead has finally died...and now a girl must wait for books that might never come... actually... just let me know of some good fanfiction, will you?
Oh, and I thought I should give a glimpse of Zihao since he single-handedly engineered the dynamics among his family members. I say I thought but I sat down to write a scene and Zihao literally took over. And depending on how I update the chapters... Yelan and Syaoran confrontation will be coming either when I update this chapter or the following one.
Sorry if there are a few typos. I'm on the brink of sleep.
Until next time!
Ja ne! ^_^
