Chapter 2
Edward Quan ·
Zhao Lei called more than a dozen times. I answered none.
Messages piled up on WeChat.
[Where are you?]
[Send me the address.]
[Jiang Wan, stop making trouble.]
[What do you actually want?]
The last said:
[If you still won’t answer, I’m coming to your office tomorrow.]
I replied:
[Come, then. You can let your colleagues know you had to sell your car to help your sister pay her mortgage.]
He didn’t answer.
4
On the fourth day of our separation, Zhao Lei didn’t come looking for me.
My mother-in-law called several times instead. I answered none.
On the fifth day, HR called.
“Jiang Wan, could you come in? There’s something we need to discuss.”
The HR director and my department head were both there.
“Sit down.” The director closed the door. “We asked you here to discuss your marital situation.”
“What do you mean?”
“We received an anonymous complaint. It says you’re involved in a financial dispute within your marriage that could affect the company’s image.”
I froze.
“The complaint says you and your husband are separating over assets. It also mentions—”
The director looked through the papers.
“Concealing income from your year-end bonus.”
My head rang.
“I want to see the complaint.”
“I’m sorry. Anonymous complaints can’t be disclosed.”
“Then I’ll tell you the truth.”
I took a deep breath.
“My husband and I do have financial disagreements. Those are private family matters, unrelated to the company. As for my bonus, he has no right to interfere with my lawful income.”
The director and my department head exchanged a glance.
“We don’t intend to interfere in your private life,” my department head said. “But you’re the company’s chief accountant, responsible for financial management. We have expectations concerning employees’ honesty and family stability. We need an explanation.”
“What sort?”
“Either prove this won’t affect your work, or—”
My department head paused.
“We may need you to take leave until the matter is resolved.”
I clenched my fists.
An anonymous complaint.
Who would do such a thing?
Only one person came to mind.
“I need a few days.”
“Three days,” the director said. “We need a clear answer within three days.”
Leaving the office, I called Zhao Lei.
The phone rang.
“Work.”
“Let’s meet tonight.”
“All right.”
“Don’t tell your mother.”
“…All right.”
At seven, he came to my rented flat.
He stood in the doorway, looking around.
“You’re staying here?”
“Yes.”
“How much a month?”
“None of your business.”
He frowned.
“Can’t you talk to me properly?”
“Did you file an anonymous complaint against me?”
He looked startled.
“What complaint?”
“The company received a letter saying I hid my bonus and fought with you over separating, damaging its image.”
I stared at him.
“Was it you?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“How would I know—”
“Your mother’s been to my office before. She knows where I work.”
His face changed.
“You suspect my mother?”
“I’m not saying I suspect her. I’m asking.”
“Absolutely not.”
He denied it firmly.
“Whatever else she might do, she wouldn’t do that.”
“Your sister, then?”
“Qian? Impossible.”
“You all protect her. Why is it impossible?”
“Calm down—”
“I am calm.”
I continued.
“I’m facing two choices. Suspension pending investigation, or resignation.”
He finally understood how serious it was.
“Really?”
“You think I’d joke about my job?”
He fell silent.
After a long while, he asked, “What can I do?”
“Find whoever sent it.”
“But it’s anonymous—”
“Then find a way.”
I looked him in the eye.
“If this isn’t resolved, I’ll really resign and move to another city. Then our marriage will be over for good.”
He leaned against the wall and shut his eyes.
“All right. I’ll handle it.”
5
He really did investigate.
He asked his mother first.
On the phone, she swore fiercely.
“If I did that, may heaven strike me dead! I don’t like your wife, but I wouldn’t cost her her job!”
Then he asked Zhao Qian.
She cried.
“How could I do that? She already hates me enough. Reporting her would be asking for trouble!”
He questioned everyone and found nothing.
The three-day deadline arrived.
I went back to work.
The HR director had news for me.