Surrounded by Wolves
The sudden movement made Jiang Wu’s heart seem to hang suspended, and for an instant, she felt a faint pressure around her neck. She stumbled one step closer as he pulled her toward him. She looked up and immediately found herself gazing into the man’s unfathomably dark eyes.
Huo Qingzhi lightly caught at the choker, drawing her closer. “You’re really going out dressed like this?”
Jiang Wu was pulled another step toward him, forcing her to brace both hands against his chest.
Originally, she hadn’t thought there was anything wrong with it, but hearing him say it made it feel entirely different. Combined with the intensely possessive look in his eyes, it left Jiang Wu completely at a loss.
“What’s wrong?” Jiang Wu’s face flushed red. “Your mind is the one going there. What does that have to do with me?”
Huo Qingzhi lowered his eyes. He didn’t deny it. “My current thoughts are admittedly a little improper.” He tugged gently at the choker and drew her close. “Can’t you just wear this in our room only?”
In the room?
Why would she wear this only in the room?
Jiang Wu’s mind immediately wandered somewhere it shouldn’t have. “You’re such a… You’re impossible…”
She didn’t get to finish. He leaned in and kissed her.
Again.
Jiang Wu’s mind went blank all over again, swept under by the sudden, overwhelming kiss. His presence was impossible to ignore. The scent of forest cedar flooded in, saturating every inch with that smell.
Jiang Wu still hadn’t learned to breathe properly through it, and the deep gulps of air she snatched between kisses only seemed to invite him in further.
Close and inescapable.
“Relax,” he murmured, nipping lightly, deepening his kiss until it ached and the gate finally fell, and then he pressed further in. “I’ll teach you.”
At the word teach, Jiang Wu’s lashes trembled. A mist of tears veiled the corners of her eyes.
It reminded her of all those countless times in the past.
“Getting dressed? Eldest Brother will teach you.”
“Don’t understand this problem? I’ll teach you.”
“Cooking? I’ll teach you…”
“Can’t figure it out? It’s fine. I’ll do it.”
And now he was teaching her how to respond to the closeness between them, how to lower her guard and allow him nearer.
Huo Qingzhi’s fingers followed the choker he had been tugging. His long fingers slipped beneath the leather choker, resting lightly along the side of her neck as his fingertips felt the increasingly rapid beat of her pulse.
Jiang Wu could feel his broad hand resting around her neck, neither tightening nor letting go.
His long fingers, distinct and deliberate, threaded through the choker, becoming tangled with the scattered diamond charms and chains binding her.
Jiang Wu really didn’t want to admit it.
But she couldn’t deny it either — the raw, commanding intensity that came off Huo Qingzhi every time he kissed her always managed to make her lose her composure for a moment.
Still, she couldn’t keep up with him. Before long, the intensity left her breathless, tears welling at her eyes. She whimpered, a pleading sound for him to stop.
Watching her sandalwood lips part, gasping for air, only made Huo Qingzhi’s thoughts turn even less innocent.
Jiang Wu was still trying to catch her breath from that choking sensation when he pressed her back a few steps until she sat on the table behind her.
His other hand braced itself beside her for a moment before moving lower along the edge of her nightdress…
The roughness of his touch against her leg made Jiang Wu shudder violently. All sorts of panicked thoughts rushed through her mind.
No. What’s he trying to do?
She struggled, only to be pinned down harder, his large hand pressing against her leg. His strength, his sheer command over her, was too much.
And this was the first time anyone but herself had ever touched her so intimately… let alone her own brother.
Overwhelmed, drowning under sensations she’d never known, Jiang Wu gripped his shoulders in a panic and cried out, “Don’t — Mom—”
Only after the words left her mouth did she realize what she had said. Huo Qingzhi stopped too, looking at her.
Calling out to their shared mother, right now, of all times, really did have some effect. At the very least, it brought a little of Huo Qingzhi’s reason back. She was frightened enough to call for her mother.
If Huo Qingzhi had guessed correctly, the rest of her cry would probably have been, “Mom, help me.”
Huo Qingzhi immediately pulled his hand away and touched her lips gently. “Don’t be afraid.”
His hand slowly withdrew from her neck as well. The pressure at Jiang Wu’s neck finally eased.
And at the very tip of Huo Qingzhi’s finger hung something that glittered faintly. The little star-diamond charm from her necklace snapped off at some point without either of them noticing.
Huo Qingzhi saw it too. Yet the moment he realized the necklace had broken, a strange sensation ran through him. Looking at the chain, broken now at his fingertip… he realized he liked it — the marks he left on her, the things of hers he broke.
The realization made Huo Qingzhi frown. He’d liked it, too, if he was honest — the way she’d just been, helpless, with no one to call to and no way out.
He had genuinely gone too far. Why would he like something like that?
In that moment, Huo Qingzhi felt a certain disgust toward himself. “I’m sorry.”
The more he recognized how shameful his own taste ran, the heavier that disgust with himself grew. It sounded like an apology for the dark thoughts in his head. It also sounded, just as easily, like an apology for the necklace.
Jiang Wu sat on the table, watching the light in his eyes flicker between shadows and clarity.
The two of them remained locked in an uneasy silence.
Some time passed before Jiang Wu stiffly nudged his shin with her foot. “You broke it. You owe me a new one.”
Huo Qingzhi lowered his eyes. “Mm. I’ll get you one.”
The atmosphere eased a little, and Jiang Wu mumbled on, quieter, “And the swimsuit you tore that day. You owe me for that too.”
“Okay.” Huo Qingzhi tucked the broken chain away.
“It’s not that I don’t want you wearing it,” he added, his voice much gentler now, as if reminding her. “But wear that kind of necklace somewhere I can’t see, from now on.”
Huo Qingzhi didn’t want to admit it, but he had to. Seeing her wearing it brought some decidedly inappropriate thoughts to mind.
After he left, Jiang Wu still felt strange. Her whole body seemed faintly numb and unsettled, somehow. An uncomfortable kind of feeling.
He was like some fathomless, icy pool. From the surface, it looked quiet and peaceful. There was no way of knowing what dangers might be hidden beneath.
Jiang Wu couldn’t shake the thought.
She went to the bathroom and, too embarrassed to think too hard about it, changed out of the delicate lace dress she had put on after her shower. She changed into a fresh one instead.
One necklace had been damaged, but Jiang Wu had brought other options. She went back to her jewelry case and took out another one. After holding it against herself for comparison, she decided it still looked beautiful.
Jiang Wu thought about what he had said. Since he’d told her to keep this kind of thing out of his sight, she figured she’d just wear it tomorrow while hanging out with Second and Third Brother instead.
She tidied up absentmindedly, and by the time she finished, it was nearly midnight.
Her friends back home had already sent their New Year’s wishes four hours ago. Most of them were probably asleep by now. Her phone was quiet. But Dubai was still putting on occasional fireworks displays throughout the city.
Jiang Wu lay on the bed, watching, for a while, the little cat sleeping back home through the feed. Toys the housekeeper had played with him during the day scattered around. Even the windows of the cat’s little house had been decorated with paper cuttings for the New Year, with a string of red chili-pepper ornaments hanging beside them.
Just as Jiang Wu switched off the companion robot’s camera display and prepared to sleep, she heard a knock at the door.
“Who is it?”
She climbed out of bed and went to open it. Huo Qingzhi was standing outside.
Not expecting him, Jiang Wu looked at him for a moment through the gap in the door. Separated by only the doorway, she stared at him for a moment. Her voice dropped, keeping her distance. “Already found a replacement this fast?”
Huo Qingzhi lowered his eyes. His thick lashes cast a shadow beneath them, making his features appear even more defined and profound.
“Those still need some time.” He held out a box. “This is for the other thing, in the meantime.”
The redwood box, inlaid with copper wire, opened. Inside was a silver filigree brooch from the Republican-era period set with emeralds, an antique piece that had been auctioned in California before the holiday. Distinctive and beautiful, and rare among antiques for being something she could actually wear out, day to day.
Jiang Wu had seen it mentioned in the promotional material at the time, but she had been busy restoring ancient texts and hadn’t been able to attend. Pretending she wasn’t surprised now would be a lie. She looked at the box in Huo Qingzhi’s hand, hesitated, then accepted it. “Are you trying to buy me off?”
“No.”
Jiang Wu looked up.
The clock struck midnight, and fireworks surged across the sky like waves.
Huo Qingzhi answered her, “It’s a New Year’s gift.”
~~
Jiang Wu had once taken part in a campus interview.
Two years earlier, while she was studying abroad in the United States, she had finished a restoration project when a student from the school’s media department approached her for a lighthearted campus interview.
The student had asked, “Senior, being this accomplished, do you have a boyfriend now?”
Jiang Wu had been caught off guard as that question had nothing to do with her field. But since it was a fellow female student interviewing her, with no ill intent, she hadn’t refused to answer. “Not at the moment.”
“Then may I ask what your ideal type is? Everyone is really curious.”
Jiang Wu answered as if she’d had the answer ready all along. “Someone gentle and considerate, steady and reliable, emotionally stable, and well-educated and well-mannered.”
“Have our seniors ever met someone like that?”
“I have.”
Huo Qingzhi had watched that video countless times. At first glance, many of those qualities seemed to fit the version of him that everyone else knew.
But Jiang Wu was a simple, straightforward person. She would never harbor any improper thoughts toward her own brother. Much less stand in front of a camera and openly discuss feelings that were never meant to be spoken aloud.
Anyone could tell from the brightness in her eyes. She had been talking about someone else.
Gu Jingsong.
Sometimes Huo Qingzhi wondered whether, when she said those things, there had ever been even a fleeting moment when she had thought of him, but he wasn’t a man who indulged in fantasies.
Besides, Huo Qingzhi himself knew that the person he truly was differed greatly from the man everyone saw on the surface. All he could do was carefully maintain the version of himself she might possibly come to love and make sure she never saw any more than that.
After damaging Jiang Wu’s choker and that swimsuit, Huo Qingzhi had spent quite some time choosing replacements. Besides finding versions similar to the original two pieces, he wanted to give her a few extras as well, but Huo Qingzhi’s sense of fashion when it came to women’s clothing was rather limited.
And he certainly couldn’t ask his male assistant to help choose such personal items for his wife. So, he’d handed the task to the housekeeping staff instead. There was no one better suited for it.
Besides, when Huo Tingshan and Jiang Yaping had brought the whole family to stay with them last time, not a single one of them had let anything slip. They were discreet and thorough.
Jiang Wu had been pleased with the result. So had he.
Before long, the group of housekeepers who had received the assignment sat around a table. They studied the photographs and reference images Huo Qingzhi had sent them, falling into thoughtful silence. Most of the housekeepers were over forty, down-to-earth women, each with a marriage and family of her own. They might not have known much about the latest trends, but they certainly understood married life.
The head housekeeper, highest-ranked among them, looked at the photo of the torn, barely-there little garment and the snapped diamond necklace, and let out a knowing sigh. “Young people really do know how to have fun.”
“Newlyweds certainly have plenty of energy.”
“Sir couldn’t decide between several options, so he asked us to make the final choice. Then he wants us to pick out a few more similar things to help smooth things over between the two of them.”
The housekeepers listened and gradually broke into knowing, satisfied smiles.
“Tell Sir not to worry.”
“Leave it to us.”
~~
Winter in Hong Kong was short. Once the holiday ended, spring was practically on its heels. One by one, everyone returned to their usual work.
Jiang Wu reluctantly put away her holiday mood and returned to the museum to pick up where she had left off.
The first ancient text she had been repairing had finally been flattened and pressed, so it was ready for the next stage of restoration and rebinding. The second text had been carefully taken apart before the holiday and left to dry. Now she could begin the painstaking hand repairs.
Bu Yu groaned beside her that a few more days of this and they’d practically earn themselves another holiday.
The moment she finished complaining, Shan Lan walked in through the door. Bu Yu shut up instantly. The room went quiet for a moment.
Shan Lan walked around their work area, then went next door to take another look. Just when Bu Yu had finally relaxed, Shan Lan came back.
Jiang Wu watched helplessly as her colleague transformed into a human spring, repeatedly straightening up and relaxing again.
Shan Lan glanced at Bu Yu a couple more times, but she was more concerned with the work in front of them. “How’s it going?”
Jiang Wu briefly explained the current progress. “The first text is almost finished. After that, we just need to complete the rebinding and restoration. The second one will still take some time.”
Shan Lan nodded. “For the first text, are you able to pull out anything relevant to the lost artifact?”
When Old Master Su had delivered the ancient text, Jiang Wu had already informed the museum about the situation. So Shan Lan and the others had known about it all along.
Jiang Wu paused for a moment. “I’ll make a record of anything relevant during the rebinding and restoration process.”
Shan Lan was quiet for a while. “Before the holiday, I submitted an application for a joint restoration project. The approval came through these past couple of days. If you find anything, remember to tell me right away.”
Bu Yu looked confused. “Joint restoration with whom?”
“Beijing,” Shan Lan answered.
Jiang Wu’s hands paused for a moment.
Shan Lan nodded toward her. “If you can pull this off, it could become a very good Beijing–Hong Kong collaborative project.”
Jiang Wu looked at her in surprise. “I thought…”
She had originally planned to wait until they actually found a relevant record before submitting the application, thinking it would have a better chance of being approved then. She hadn’t expected Shan Lan to have submitted it on her behalf long ago without even telling her.
“Your previous restoration records were already enough to support the application. If we waited until you finished everything before applying, we’d miss our chance.”
Shan Lan’s expression remained as cool and composed as ever. “Besides, when the Beijing–Hong Kong collaboration applications opened, there wasn’t a more suitable project, so I submitted yours along with the others. Don’t overthink it.”
With that, Shan Lan left the restoration room. A swell of something rose in Jiang Wu’s chest.
After several months on the job, Bu Yu could tell this was a good thing too. “Sister Lan really hasn’t changed. She’s still so blunt with her words.”
Jiang Wu smiled. “What someone says out loud is often the least important part.”
Jiang Wu understood the analysis of ancient-text records and the extraction of evidence chains better, so the task was left to her.
Bu Yu helped where she could, splitting her time between this and other museum restoration work.
The two ancient texts Old Master Su had given them did indeed contain records and descriptions of priceless imperial treasures from the Ming and Qing dynasties. Jiang Wu compared the pages one by one and eventually found scattered references to the Xiezhi Judicial Seal. There were relatively few records from the Qing dynasty; most of the references were from the Ming dynasty.
The Ming-era text was much older, making it more difficult to restore. There were also certain technical limitations during the process of hand restoration.
Jiang Wu believed that relying solely on the techniques currently available might prove difficult. She thought about the problem until the end of work on Friday, then put it aside.
After writing up her findings and submitting the report, she was ready to leave.
Bu Yu asked, “Do you have any plans this weekend?”
“Nothing much. My family might be visiting the ancestral hall this weekend.”
Bu Yu let out an “Oh.”
Jiang Wu briefly explained, “Every year, before the fifteenth day of the New Year, my family goes.”
Bu Yu didn’t really understand what she meant. But on that Sunday, when she saw a paparazzi tabloid photo of Jiang Wu surrounded by a wall of luxury cars, famous figures, and bodyguards, she understood.
The Huo family ancestral hall was located inside the temple grounds at Banhe Mountain in Hong Kong. The ancestral hall was tucked away in a secluded part of the temple, and its schedule was deliberately kept separate from the temple’s busiest festival periods.
Most media outlets wouldn’t specifically wait around to pry into a family’s private affairs. Paparazzi, however, would.
The paparazzi hiding in the woods outside the Banhe Mountain parking lot quickly sent out the first reports, then stared at the photos of Jiang Wu in confusion. “How is she still so closely connected with the Huo family?”
One of them agreed. “Who knows? She’s even attending the Huo family’s ancestral rites.”
Inside the temple gardens, Huo Chengxi looked at Jiang Wu and voiced the same question. “How are you still coming to our family’s ancestral rites?”
Jiang Wu lifted a hand to brush back her hair, a little deliberately, and said with feigned innocence, “Why can’t I come?”
“Stop pretending. You have nothing to do with our family anymore.”
“I just have nothing to do with your family’s company anymore.”
Huo Chengxi scoffed. “Is there really a difference?”
Jiang Wu had finally been waiting for him to say that. She turned and spotted Huo Tingkun. “Oh, then why is Third Uncle here too?”
“Why can’t my dad come?”
Jiang Wu’s eyes curved into a smile. “After all, your dad doesn’t have anything to do with the group anymore either.”
Huo Chengxi froze for a moment before swearing under his breath.
Jiang Wu ignored him and walked away.
“That’s only temporary, Jiang Wu! It’s just risk isolation. It’s completely different from your situation!”
“Jiang Wu!” Huo Chengxi called after her, but he didn’t get even the slightest reaction from her.
Jiang Wu mainly came because she was used to visiting her grandparents every year. They had loved her dearly from the moment she was born. To have everything severed completely because of a single paternity test report made Jiang Wu feel as though she were being heartless.
Looked at another way, she could still be considered part of the Huo family. She was Huo Qingzhi’s wife. Thinking of that still made Jiang Wu feel deeply that it was morally wrong.
At a place like this, Jiang Wu tried her best to push those thoughts aside. Under the watchful gaze of the gods, she sometimes even wondered whether she had done something wrong. Because of that, she found it difficult to meet Huo Qingzhi’s eyes here, or to stay too close to him. Though, come to think of it, things between them had been in some strange limbo lately.
Huo Qingzhi hadn’t touched her, hadn’t pushed things further, since. His attitude was gentle and considerate, just like before, maintaining that familiar image of a good older brother. The difference was that Jiang Wu would never again trust that version of him so easily.
While everyone else was offering incense in the main hall, Jiang Wu didn’t need to go with them, so she wandered around the surrounding halls on her own. The temple grounds were solemn and meticulously arranged, with rows of towering pine trees standing throughout the area.
Jiang Wu passed through a small courtyard and spotted a secluded temple structure hidden among the forest at the edge of the mountain. Incense in hand, she walked toward it. Wisps of fragrant smoke curled up from the censer out front.
Only after entering the building did Jiang Wu realize that there was something different about this place — a kind of heaviness. Nothing like the layout of the rest of the temple.
A rock-carved cavern built into the mountainside, its exterior shaped to resemble a pavilion. The interior was unusually cool, and Buddhist statues stood against the stone walls. Dead quiet all around, with only a single monk inside, tidying the offerings on the altar.
Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned around. Then walked over and told her politely, “If you’re here to offer incense, you can do so in the courtyard next door.”
Jiang Wu was puzzled. “Can’t I offer incense here?”
“You can,” the monk explained. “But I don’t think you’ll have any need to.” He continued, “This is the Chamber of Repentance. For those who’ve committed grave wrongs, to come and cleanse their hearts and clear their minds.”
Jiang Wu understood and quietly prepared to leave. Then, from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a ring resting on the craven wall, mid-consecration. The exact same ring Huo Qingzhi had once worn on his pinky!
Jiang Wu stopped in her tracks. She stared at it without blinking.
Seeing her reaction, the monk asked, “What is it?”
Jiang Wu paused before gesturing toward the ring. “It’s… very unusual.”
The monk smiled. “It is. Though it’s not something one wears casually. Its purpose is much the same as coming here to repent.”
Jiang Wu turned to ask, “What would someone need to have done to earn a ring like this?”
“It depends on what the person considers a serious enough mistake.”
“Besides that, they must observe a three-month period of abstinence and copy the scriptures one hundred times. If they still cannot bring themselves under control, they wear this as a daily reminder to keep themselves in check.”
Jiang Wu looked at him for a moment. “It sounds like it isn’t used very often.”
“That’s right. Many visitors simply come here to pray, reflect, and leave once they feel they have truly repented.”
“Very few outsiders are willing to observe three months of abstinence. Usually, it’s one of our own who has done something wrong. They observe the required period, copy the scriptures as atonement, then come here to wear the ring for a while. It serves as a reminder that they are still in a period of atonement. Once that period is over, the ring is returned here.”
“Has anyone from outside the temple ever received one?”
The monk thought for a moment. “There was one person. That was many years ago.”
Jiang Wu asked, “How many years ago?”
The monk narrowed his eyes and looked out at the clear sky and white clouds as he recalled. “I remember that he came here many times.”
“The earliest was probably six years ago. That gentleman came here to observe three months of abstinence and copied the scriptures a hundred times to calm his mind. Before he left, he still asked to take one of the rings with him.”
The weight of “six years” hit Jiang Wu with a delayed, dizzying force.
Six years ago — that was when she’d been at school in Beijing, Huo Qingzhi had been expanding his business there, and she’d asked him to help transfer her household registration to Beijing.
They had been living together on their own.
For a significant part of that time, she had still innocently believed in the idea that an eldest brother was supposed to be like a father. “What was it for?”
The monk answered quietly. “A matter of desire.”