Chapter 2

My parents reached the garage almost together.

Mom checked me from head to toe before looking at Xia Wenzhou.

She usually spoke so gently that people at school parent-teacher meetings always praised her approachability.

Now she set her bag on the hood without even opening it, and the whole garage seemed two degrees colder.

“Wenzhou, did you just ask Zhaozhao to confess for Su Mian?”

He pressed his lips together.

“Mom, it's not what you think.”

Dad coldly reminded him, “You're not married. That form of address is inappropriate.”

His throat tightened. He corrected himself at once.

“Mr. Ning, I'll resolve this.”

“How?” Mom asked. “By making my daughter bear the crime you committed?”

Su Mian stepped forward, sobbing.

“Auntie, I know I shouldn't have driven. I was just so frightened. I don't blame Miss Ning for refusing to help.”

Mom looked at her.

“You don't blame Zhaozhao for refusing to go to prison for you?”

Her sob caught for half a beat. Her eyes darted away.

Behind Dad, Lawyer Zhou took out a tablet.

“Miss Ning, shall we call the police immediately?”

Xia Wenzhou raised a hand.

“Wait. I'm willing to go to the station and cooperate.”

Then he turned and lowered his voice to me.

“Don't involve our parents yet. Su Mian really isn't well.”

“My mother's standing right in front of you,” I said. “Say it again. Because she's unwell, I should go to prison?”

He pressed his lips shut and said nothing.

Even Su Mian now recognized his unreliability. Panic flashed in her eyes.

Footsteps sounded at the garage entrance.

His parents had arrived.

Uncle Xia wore a house jacket and looked as though he'd spent the journey forcing his blood pressure down.

Aunt Xia hadn't even brushed her hair properly. Seeing me, she caught my hand.

“Zhaozhao, were you terribly frightened?”

“I'm all right. Mostly shaken by your son's proposed solution.”

Uncle Xia looked at the damaged car, then at him.

“Who drove?”

Xia Wenzhou looked first at Su Mian, then at me.

Su Mian hurried to say, “I wasn't careful—”

“It was me,” he interrupted.

His father frowned deeply.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Dad. I'll handle it.”

“Had you been drinking before you got in?”

“I hadn't. I was driving.”

Su Mian dug her fingers into her palm, tears falling nonstop.

Perhaps the answer pleased her. Her crying grew more convincing.

I watched them and suddenly lost interest.

One busily embracing the blame, the other wearing a look of touched devotion.

They'd used my life as a prop and still wanted me to play audience.

“Fine.” I opened the car and took a backup notebook computer from the rear seat. “Since you're so certain, let's all watch something.”

His expression finally changed.

My car had a driver-assistance system, my brother's birthday gift the previous year.

He'd said I drove so steadily that fitting all those features was like strapping rockets to a tortoise.

I'd replied that money spent on safety was more reliable than money spent on men.

Events proved my brother had better judgment than I'd shown when choosing a fiancé.

The system synchronized cabin footage, routes, and collision warnings to my private cloud storage. Usually, I used it to find parking. Tonight, it had become the dashcam recording Xia Wenzhou's personal crash.

I connected the computer to the garage wall's projection screen.

The image appeared: Su Mian in the driver's seat, cheeks flushed. Xia Wenzhou beside her, holding a half-finished cocktail.

The system's electronic announcement was clear.

“Alcohol response detected in driver. Please do not start the vehicle.”

Su Mian laughed.

“Why is this car like you? Always managing people.”

He reached over to fasten her seat belt.

“Drive slowly. Don't push it.”

She shook the keys.

“Ning Zhao's car is so boring. Even the air freshener smells of wood.”

He laughed.

“She does everything by the rules. No fun at all.”

Before the screen, it was so quiet we could hear the air conditioning.

Mom's face darkened.

Dad said nothing, but veins stood out on the back of his hand.

After the car left the club, the image shook several times.

Laughing and talking with Xia Wenzhou, Su Mian missed the turn and jerked the wheel.

A man on an electric scooter emerged from an alley. The car struck him hard.

The screech of brakes hurt our ears.

Onscreen, the man was thrown to the roadside, his scooter flung far away.

The system automatically connected an emergency call. A mechanical female voice began reporting the location.

Xia Wenzhou pressed the button and cut it off.

Su Mian screamed.

“What do we do? Am I going to prison?”

He stared ahead, pale, for several seconds.

“Drive away.”

“But it's Ning Zhao's car,” she cried.

He rubbed his forehead.

“Her family's got plenty of lawyers. We'll find a way to make her take the blame.”

The picture froze on his bloodless face.

Aunt Xia braced herself against the wall, fingers trembling.

Uncle Xia slammed a hand onto the hood with a heavy thud.

He took out his phone.

“We're reporting this immediately.”

Su Mian lunged to close the laptop. Our driver stopped her.

She cried as she explained, “I was too drunk. I didn't know what I was saying.”

I looked up.

“Your foot was clearheaded enough to hit the accelerator. And quick enough to get you back to the garage.”

Her lips trembled. She turned to him.

“Wenzhou, you said you'd protect me.”

He lowered his head, unable to look at her.

His father called the police, his voice low and calm.

“My son and Miss Su are involved in a drunk-driving hit-and-run. We have complete evidence. I'll send the address.”

I sent copies to Lawyer Zhou.

Putting away the computer, he nodded.

“Miss Ning, the engagement-termination documents will reach the Xia Group tomorrow morning.”

Xia Wenzhou suddenly looked up.

“You're really calling it off?”

“You didn't ask my opinion before making me your scapegoat. I don't intend to ask yours before ending our engagement.”

The police reached the garage not long after Dad reported it.

As Su Mian was taken to the police car, she kept saying she couldn't breathe and demanded her private doctor.

A young officer looked at her stilettos and said politely, “We'll arrange an examination. You moved quite quickly toward that laptop just now. Your condition should permit you to cooperate with questioning.”

She flushed, lowered her head, and said no more.

Before leaving with the police, Xia Wenzhou stood at the elevator and looked at me for a long time.

“Zhaozhao, I really panicked.”

I pocketed my car keys.

“When you panic, call the police. Not me to confess for you.”

His mouth opened. In the end, he said nothing.

The next morning, both families announced the engagement's end.

Briefly: serious differences had led the parties to terminate it. They would each live well from now on.

The Xia family preserved our dignity while acknowledging his wrongdoing.

The internet, however, wasn't willing to leave everyone in peace.

Someone leaked surveillance footage from the club entrance. Su Mian taking Xia Wenzhou's arm as they got into the car spread across every platform.

Some commenters called President Xia a hopeless romantic. Others asked whether hopeless romantics worked as breathalyzers. Still others proposed a road-safety publicity award for their love.

My brother, Ning Bai, called.

“Sis, want PR to pour a little oil on the fire?”

“No,” I said over breakfast. “The police have the evidence. Too much fire burns innocent people.”

“How are you feeling? Want to get out and relax?”

“Fine.” I bit into a xiaolongbao. “Slept beautifully. One fewer good-night text. My phone's much quieter.”

Mom brought milk and laughed.

“Next time, check the brain first. A handsome face doesn't reduce criminal liability.”

Dad coughed behind his newspaper.

“Your mother's right.”

Xia Wenzhou was detained for the investigation. Overnight, the Xia board suspended him from all company positions.

They phrased the reasons beautifully: cooperation with the investigation, avoiding disruption to operations.

My plain-language translation was:

This man causes too much trouble. Get him out of the office first.

That afternoon, Su Mian's sister called.

Her voice shrieked like a leaking pressure cooker.

“Ning Zhao, why did you give the police that video? She made one mistake, and you want to ruin her life?”

I put her on speaker, set the phone on the table, and continued painting my nails.

“She hit someone and fled. Xia Wenzhou canceled the emergency call. They wanted me to confess. You call that one mistake?”

“She's still young. And she's always had poor health.”

“She's twenty-six. She can drink, drive, and run out of a garage perfectly well. She understands everything an adult ought to.

“As for her health, take her to hospital more often. Not to the driver's seat.”

Her sister cursed a few times and hung up.

I looked at my freshly painted nails. A lovely choice of color.

If people gave themselves a little more time sooner, plenty of scumbags wouldn't even qualify to join the queue into their lives.