Crossing the Line – Chapter 59
by Little PandaThe One and Only True Wife
The authentication certificate for a lot consigned by one of the collectors under Jiang Siyi’s care had come back incomplete, and Manager Wu called to ask about it.
It was Siyi’s day off, and Manager Wu was still out there working like an ox and horse1. Siyi couldn’t quite bring herself not to answer.
So she walked toward the parking garage with Fan Qing and her sister, phone pressed to her ear.
Jiang Siling never traveled light. Any time she left the house, every last odds and end went into a suitcase.
For this trip home she’d brought one large suitcase, one small, plus a bulky backpack and a crossbody bag.
And that was after Glenda had helped her pare things down through two full rounds of trimming.
Fan Qing pushed the luggage cart, fully loaded. Siling felt a little sheepish. “It’s heavy — let me take it.”
“Not at all,” Fan Qing replied with impeccable courtesy. “You’re Miss Jiang’s sister. Taking good care of you today is exactly what I’m here for.”
Miss Jiang?
They’re married, and she still calls her “Miss Jiang.”
Like it’s some kind of marital role-play…
Siling — whose train of thought had long since jumped the rails, past the point where any three donkeys could drag it back — mused to herself: Xiao Fan, oh Xiao Fan, quite the operator. No wonder you can toy with pretty girls.
Having finished that round of mental denunciation, she then soberly reconsidered: but what if the woman’s feelings were genuine?
Granted, there was a scar on that face. Frightening stuff.
But observed at close range, this Sen Yifan had fine, clean features. She’d asked whether Siling was “tired,” and when she’d mentioned having “already booked the restaurant,” the smile that came with it was warm. On the whole, a mild-seeming person.
Perhaps not as much of a bastard as the rumors made her out to be?
After all, rumors were rumors — you couldn’t swallow them whole. You had to observe for yourself, learn for yourself.
Of course, the possibility of a carefully polished front wasn’t zero either.
Siling put herself on alert: absolutely no letting her guard down.
By the time they reached the parking garage, Fan Qing and Siling had stuffed the luggage into the trunk together.
Siyi was still on her phone.
Fan Qing stood by the car, making easy small talk with Siling about the contemporary art scene.
The longer they chatted, the more uneasy Siling grew.
So this Sen person knows what I do for a living.
Has she had me investigated down to the last detail?
As an outstanding assistant on a $1M salary — and the one who had helped BOSS broker Siling’s contract with ArtS — Fan Qing understood a great deal more about Jiang Siling than Siling could have imagined.
Said aloud in full, it would probably leave the woman before her dumbstruck.
On the drive over, Siling had rehearsed a whole bellyful of remarks — proper on the surface, warning shots underneath, all aimed at Sen Yifan.
None of it was meant for Baby’s ears. With the two of them finally alone, this was the opening.
J City’s airport was busy as ever, and today the garage was packed.
A car swung around the corner, hunting for a spot.
Its driver saw that Fan Qing and Siling had finished loading the luggage — and were still standing by the car, showing no intention of leaving.
The street tough behind the wheel laid on his horn. The shrill blare ricocheted through the garage.
He cranked down the window and threw a graceless “Hey!” at Fan Qing’s back.
“What’re you doing standing there? Move it!”
Bald head, full sleeve of tattoos — the man looked plenty menacing. Siling’s face paled a shade.
Fan Qing turned her head, and the gentle warmth she wore for Siling collapsed in a single second.
Face dark. One eyebrow arched. Something lethal in her eyes.
“What are you barking at, dog?”
Street tough: …
His sleeve could be as flowery as it pleased — it had nothing on the scar on her face.
Jiang Siling: …
Th-this fierce?
Whatever other forms of awareness the street tough lacked, he possessed a razor instinct for the menace of someone who had seen blood.
He rolled his window up in silence, said not half a word, executed a quiet turn, and resumed his hunt for a spot.
The scowl she kept for handling trouble switched itself off automatically as she turned back, the gentle smile sliding into place —
whereupon she discovered that Jiang Siling had physically retreated a full step.
Fan Qing: .
Blood sisters, without question. Their courage had clearly been born of the same mother — in the same small size.
Even Fan Qing’s voice went a few degrees sweeter. “Don’t be scared, Jiejie. I was only putting a fright into that man. I’d never be like that with you.”
Siling hung a smile on her face — the “I’m fine, everything’s fine, I was definitely not frightened” model.
Inside, the war drums were pounding.
Scarier than I even imagined…
The warning shots she’d prepared went right back down her throat. She gave them a careful mental second pass — polishing here, rewording there, cutting every word liable to enrage the woman.
And one more pep talk before opening her mouth —
I’m the elder sister. It’s my job to protect my younger sister.
“Um — Xiao Fan.”
Fan Qing: “Hm?”
Pinned by Fan Qing’s direct gaze, Siling instinctively shifted her eyes out of focus, blurring the woman’s face into soft abstraction.
Things were less frightening when she couldn’t see them clearly.
“Are you two planning a wedding? You know what a mess our family is. But she’s the only younger sister I have — whatever anyone else gets to have, I want her to have too. As long as I’m here, nobody gets to wrong her one little bit.”
Good. Delivered with conviction. Anyone possessed of even a sliver of emotional intelligence would surely read the meaning folded between her lines.
Instead, the tall woman took it all in and produced a baffled “Huh?”
What is this lady going on about?
With that “Huh?” came the reflexive lift of Fan Qing’s single eyebrow — her habitual expression of confusion.
But from where Siling stood, it foretold the next second perfectly: this Sen Yifan spreading five fingers and clamping them over her skull, one corner of her mouth curling upward in warning —
Do I look like I take instruction from you?
She stepped back again, on pure instinct.
Fan Qing: ?
Why does the distance keep growing? And — is it my imagination, or is this Jiejie trying to put me on notice?
So Miss Jiang still hadn’t told her sister about the wedding.
Setting the strange impression aside, Fan Qing answered dutifully. “Of course there’ll be a wedding. BOSS’s current plan is to hold it in October.”
BOSS? thought Siling. So the organization backing you really is vast — even the wedding needs the boss’s sign-off.
Just then, Jiang Siyi came back.
“Sorry, sorry. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
The three of them got in the car. As Fan Qing started the engine, a thought surfaced: could Jiang-jiejie have mistaken me for BOSS?
No reason. Miss Jiang must have shown her sister BOSS’s photo.
Besides, hadn’t they all grown up in the same circle?
And I look nothing like BOSS.
Even Fan Qing had her blind spots.
It simply never occurred to her that Siyi hadn’t yet told her sister that the person she’d married was Lin Ji.
Even so — as befitted an outstanding assistant on a $1M salary — Fan Qing’s gift for making the facts agree with herself was superb.
Ah, of course: I’m BOSS’s assistant, so naturally the wedding logistics fall to me to coordinate. Every detail, nailed down.
Miss Jiang’s sister probably doesn’t find it easy to say too much to BOSS — so she can only come to me. Understandable. Completely understandable.
Replaying the subtext of those words just now: she thinks the wedding is too far off?
It couldn’t be moved up, though. A wedding in October — and of late the two people getting married had been busy either with work or with being in love. Nothing had been prepared yet.
Ah — so she’s cracking the whip on me, the assistant, to get things moving. Understood. Fully understood.
Siyi sat in the back seat with her sister, and the two of them talked the entire way.
Two years on opposite ends of the earth, and the video calls had never stopped — but they were, in the end, no substitute for the warmth of being face to face.
Siyi held up her phone to show her. “This is where we’re having dinner tonight.”
The fusion restaurant with the guqin performances.
Siling caught sight of the price per head and nearly jumped out of her skin. Four digits.
“That’s far too extravagant, it’s so expensive…”
Siyi thought it was expensive too. She’d told Lin Ji as much before — something simple would have been fine.
Lin Ji had replied on WeChat: 【Meeting the family2 — it has to be done properly.】
One short sentence. So very hard to refuse.
Lin Ji didn’t merely care about her — she cared about her sister too. There truly was something of the thrill of meeting the family in it.
Siyi looked at the “family member” beside her and said, “She’s the one treating. Meeting you calls for a proper occasion.”
She was like a new couple still giddy with first love — too embarrassed to utter the other person’s name in front of the elder sister, circling around it a little.
Siling nodded.
Willing to spend, at least.
Then, to Fan Qing at the wheel: “Thanks, Xiao Fan.”
It was, indeed, Fan Qing who had booked the private room on BOSS’s behalf.
Fan Qing: “…You’re welcome.”
And yet — still strange. All of it.
The reservation was for six in the evening.
Two hours yet until dinner.
To save money for her sister’s divorce lawsuit, Siling had toughed out fifteen hours in a budget airline’s rock-hard seats.
Narrow and stiff as they were, they hadn’t kept her from sleeping — she’d dozed through half the flight.
She was feeling reasonably fresh now, and the two sisters went out to browse the shops.
Two years away, and J City had grown at a furious pace — new malls everywhere, all sorts of interesting stores.
Carrying her guilt over “my little sister, seized by a tyrant for the sake of my career,” Siling hauled her from counter to counter, buying and buying.
Every pretty dress, she wanted her sister to try on — and there was not one that didn’t look good on her.
Siyi was finally worn into helplessness.
“Jiejie, I’m twenty-five already. These girly little dresses aren’t for me anymore.”
“What do you mean, aren’t for you? You look lovely.”
Siling gathered up an armload of dresses and made for the register.
Fan Qing took them from her hands, easy as breathing. “Leave it to me.”
And went off to settle the bill.
Watching Fan Qing’s back at the register, Siling’s feelings grew a little tangled.
Dresses running several thousand yuan apiece — paid for just like that. Generous, this one.
Fan Qing, swiping away freely on BOSS’s supplementary card, naturally carried not half an ounce of psychological burden.
BOSS’s orders: when out with Miss Jiang, whatever Miss Jiang likes, buy it at once — don’t let her look at it a second time. Everything goes on this card. Swipe freely.
One full lap of the mall later, Fan Qing’s hands hung full of shopping bags.
Siyi and Siling both moved to take a share. Fan Qing said, “No need. It’s my duty.”
Siling ran a silent tally of the spending so far: a few tens of thousands, easily.
Some of it had been lovely but far too expensive — she and Baby had only picked it up for a single look, and by the time they turned around, Sen Yifan had already paid.
This Sen family… a true J City dynasty, then. The finances were certainly sound.
And the truer that was, the harder they would surely be to deal with.
At dinnertime they arrived at the restaurant — the same second-floor private room as last time, private as ever, with a fine view of the guqin.
Fan Qing handed an ordering tablet to each of them.
“Some dishes are already in. See if you’d like to add anything.”
Siling: “I’m hopeless at ordering. Baby, you do it.”
Siyi saw that ten dishes and two soups were already on the ticket.
Fan Qing customarily ate with them — apart from when the two of them were out on private dates.
For four people, this would be ample.
Siyi checked the time once more and messaged Lin Ji.
Sanzhuang Tusi: 【Are you out of your meeting yet?】
Three minutes later, Lin Ji replied.
，: 【Just out. Getting to the restaurant will take about half an hour.】
Then the food could start coming. This restaurant’s kitchen was no speed demon — by the time Lin Ji walked in, it would be just right for eating.
Siyi placed the order, and cold dishes and hot began arriving one after another.
When the dishes were nearly all served, Siling noticed Siyi still hadn’t lifted her chopsticks.
“Not eating?”
Siyi: “Lin Ji will be here any minute. Let’s wait a little longer for her.”
Lin Ji?
Siling was baffled. “Lin Ji? The Lin Ji you mean — is she… my high school classmate, Lin Ji?”
She had been about to say “Song Ti’s Biaojie,” but she found the two characters “Song Ti” genuinely distasteful, and swerved midstream.
“Yes. Her.”
“What’s she coming for?”
Siyi paused, thrown. “She’s… treating us to dinner. It wouldn’t be right for her not to come…”
Siling: “Why would she treat us to dinner?”
Jiang Siyi: ?
Siling pointed at Fan Qing — sitting off to the side with her tea, looking visibly bewildered herself.
“Isn’t your wife the one treating?”
Fan Qing nearly sprayed her tea.
Wait — whose wife??
Siyi looked at Fan Qing, then at her sister.
It was true that she’d wanted her sister to learn a little later who she’d married — she’d been sitting on the news.
But who could have guessed her sister would settle on Fan Qing?
It was Manager Wu’s phone call that had thrown off the introductions.
Just as she was about to say “she’s not my wife,” she saw Fan Qing’s gaze snap toward the door of the private room — the color draining from her face by a full shade.
Siyi and Siling turned together.
And saw Lin Ji — face utterly blank.
Fan Qing: “BOSS, hear me out. I don’t actually know how to explain, but this is definitely a misunderstanding — even though I don’t know how the misunderstanding happened either… In short, I have done nothing improper.”
Siling, question marks crowding her head, was also rattled by the force of Lin Ji’s presence — undiminished after all these years. Clutching her sister’s hand, she whispered:
“Your — your — your wife is Lin Ji?”
Siyi: “…Yes. My wife has been Lin Ji, from beginning to end.”
Siling jabbed a finger at Fan Qing. “Then why is this Sen person here?”
Fan Qing: “Who’s surnamed Sen? I’m not surnamed Sen. I’m surnamed Fan.”
Chaos. Total chaos.
Siling clutched her head and muttered, baffled: “Sen Yifan… so her surname is Fan?”
Siyi’s head was buzzing too. “Sen Yifan? Who’s Sen Yifan? Why does that name sound like something I’ve heard somewhere?”
Lin Ji’s eyelid twitched.
This Sen Yifan had already been blacklisted by Cen Lu — how had she turned up on her own family roster?
Her gaze swept across to Jiang Siling.
Under it, Siling gave a small shudder.
If memory served, this high school classmate had been afraid of her too.
Same make and model as Jiang Siyi — she’d taken the identical detour around her.
However the misunderstanding had come about, Jiang Siyi could only be her wife — and that made Jiang Siling her elder sister now, as well.
And that line just now, “my wife has been Lin Ji from beginning to end,” had gone down exceedingly well.
Lin Ji took the seat beside Siyi, closed the hand wearing its matching ring over Siyi’s, and said, smiling, her voice gone soft:
“Something held me up. If I’d gone with Siyi to meet you, none of this would have happened. Allow me to introduce — this is my assistant, Fan Qing.”
Her assistant?
Fan Qing smiled stiffly under Siling’s stare. “Hello, Jiejie. My surname is Fan, my given name Qing — really and truly Fan.”
Wrong person, then. It genuinely wasn’t Sen Yifan.
Belatedly, the mortification landed in full — Siling’s face scorched, her ears flared a conspicuous red, and she would have given anything to crawl behind her sister and hide.
Siyi knew her sister’s imagination ran wild, that she strayed off course all the time.
What she hadn’t expected was for her to conjure an entirely unrelated person out of thin air.
And to keep the storyline internally consistent long enough to believe it all this while.
One look at her sister and Siyi knew how cornered she felt. She passed her an iced drink and ran interference.
“It’s my fault for not making things clear at the start — that’s how you got the wrong idea.”
Lin Ji joined in soothing her: “A small misunderstanding. Don’t let it weigh on you.”
Siling took a few sips of the cold drink, cooled down by degrees, and squeezed out a smile.
“I simply didn’t think enough.”
Fan Qing drank her tea and slid her a sidelong glance.
Jiejie — didn’t think enough? You thought no small amount.
Lin Ji, unhurried, took the warm damp hand towel and wiped Siyi’s hands for her — while her mind, inevitably, turned the question over: married this long, and still not spelled out to her sister?
If her sister could mistake her for someone else, then her own name had never once come up.
Her thoughts circled, and settled on a guess: Siyi was probably mindful of the ugly falling-out between her sister and Song Hui — afraid her sister would conclude that this contract with ArtS had nothing to do with genuine admiration from ArtS, and tip into a fresh spiral of self-doubt.
Sen Yifan was ArtS’s majority shareholder; back then, Lin Ji had joined hands with her to turn Siling’s livestreamed painting-burning into a trending arts-and-entertainment story.
Though of course, what had truly seized the public’s eye were Siling’s own paintings — and the act of burning them as performance art.
That Siling had traced things back to Sen Yifan, and come home so abruptly — she must believe Siyi had thrown herself into the fire for the sake of her sister’s future.
And now, seeing that the person her sister had married was not Sen Yifan but her — Lin Ji — she probably took Lin Ji for a vulture swooping in on the crisis.
Lin Ji had guessed correctly.
At the sight of the matching rings on her sister’s and Lin Ji’s fingers, the first thought to flash through Siling’s mind was —
It’s over. The tyrant who seized her sister is Lin Ji.
If it had been that Sen Yifan, perhaps there was still a battle to be fought.
Swap in Lin Ji, and she suspected that even total bankruptcy wouldn’t be enough to save her sister.
Panic broke over Siling in wave after wave.
Lin Ji and Jiang Siling had once shared a classroom for two years — but one was an introverted art student, the other an even more reticent transfer student at the top of her class. Different circles, distant seats; their paths had scarcely crossed.
She remembered it well — Siyi’s elder sister, upon sighting her, had taken the very same detour.
Perhaps it would be better now that they were grown?
In any case: first, demonstrate some approachability. Reach over and serve her some food.
Lin Ji leaned close to Siyi and murmured at her ear:
“Give your one and only true wife a little guidance — which dishes does your Jiejie love?”
One and only true wife…
Siyi stole a covert glance at the woman beside her.
Nothing showed on her face, but the words had gone straight in.
So petty.
Absolutely lethal.
And against all sense, Siyi found she rather liked that pettiness.
The author has something to say:
Lin Ji: Wife-pampering, Step Twenty-Six — only I get to pamper her (⊙ _ / ⊙)(⊙ _ / ⊙)
Footnotes
- 当牛马 | dāng niúmǎ | Internet slang, literally 'being an ox and horse'; self-deprecating shorthand for grinding away like livestock at a job one cannot refuse.
- 见家长 | jiàn jiāzhǎng | Formally meeting a partner's family for the first time; a milestone in Chinese dating culture that calls for proper ceremony.
0 Comments