Wenhao came out of the shower with his hair still wet and a towel hanging over his shoulders and he was wearing his softest pajamas because even when he was angry he refused to be uncomfortable.
He lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling and his room was big and clean and beautiful but it felt empty in a way that Shen Wei's small yellow room never felt empty and he didn't know why that was.
His ceiling had a painting on it. A blue sky with white clouds. His mother had chosen it before she died and every night Wenhao looked at those clouds and wondered if she was somewhere up there looking back at him.
He was thinking about Shen Wei and the pudding and the way Shen Wei had said I forgive you to those boys like it was nothing when he heard a knock on his door.
Not a loud knock. A soft knock. A knock that was almost apologetic for existing.
Wenhao knew who it was because the servants knocked louder and Xinyi didn't knock at all she just walked in and Ruifen would never dare to knock on his door.
"Come in," Wenhao said and his voice was flat.
The door opened and Mr Liang walked in with his hands behind his back and his face looked older than it did yesterday and there were dark circles under his eyes that Wenhao had never noticed before.
Mr Liang stood near the door for a moment like he was waiting for permission to come further into the room and that was so strange because this was his house and his son.
Wenhao didn't give him permission. He just looked at his father and waited.
Mr Liang walked to the chair near the window and sat down and he looked at Wenhao and Wenhao looked at him and the silence stretched between them like a rubber band that was about to snap.
"I owe you an apology," Mr Liang said and his voice was rough like he hadn't used it in a long time even though he used it all day every day. "I should have told you about Ruifen. I should have told all of you. I was a coward and I am sorry."
Wenhao didn't say anything. He kept staring at the ceiling and the painted clouds and he pretended like his father's words were just sounds in the air that meant nothing.
"I kept telling myself I was protecting you," Mr Liang continued and his hands were clasped in his lap and his thumbs were moving back and forth like they were nervous. "I told myself that you were too young to understand. Then you got older and I told myself you had enough to deal with. Your mother's death. Your brothers. School. There was always a reason to wait one more day."
Wenhao's jaw tightened but he didn't look away from the clouds.
"Your mother knew about Ruifen," Mr Liang said quietly and Wenhao's whole body went stiff because that was new information that cut through him like a knife. "She found out before she got sick. I don't know how. Maybe someone told her. Maybe she just knew. But she knew and she forgave me and she never told anyone because she didn't want you to think less of me."
Wenhao sat up so fast that his head spun and he looked at his father with eyes that were burning. "She knew? Mother knew and she forgave you?"
"Yes."
"She forgave you for having a daughter with another woman while you were married to her?"
"Yes."
Wenhao laughed and it was a bitter ugly laugh that came from somewhere deep in his chest. "Then she was a better person than me. Because I won't forgive you."
Mr Liang's face crumpled a little and he looked down at his hands. "I know. I don't expect you to forgive me tonight. Or tomorrow. Or maybe ever. But I needed you to know that I am sorry. And I needed you to know that I love you. You are my son and I love you more than anything in this world and I have done a terrible job of showing that."
Wenhao felt something soft and warm try to grow in his chest and he pushed it down because he wasn't ready to forgive and he wasn't ready to soften and he wasn't ready to be the good son again.
But the soft warm thing kept trying to grow.
He took a deep breath and looked at his father's tired face and his father's gray hair and his father's hands that had built an empire and held Wenhao when he was small and taught him how to ride a bike and signed every permission slip and came to every school play even when he was busy.
"I'm still angry," Wenhao said and his voice was smaller than he wanted it to be.
"I know," Mr Liang said.
"I'm going to stay angry for a while."
"That's your right."
Wenhao looked at the clouds on the ceiling again and he thought about his mother and he thought about how she would want him to forgive because that was the kind of person she was and he was not her but maybe he could try to be a little bit like her.
"Father," Wenhao said slowly like he was testing each word before he let it out. "I want to stay at Weiwei's apartment sometimes. Not every night. But sometimes. When I need space. When I need to breathe."
Mr Liang's face went tight because every instinct in his body wanted to say no because his son was nineteen and the world was dangerous and Shen Wei lived in a bad neighborhood.
But he looked at Wenhao's face and he saw how tired his son was and how much he was holding back and how hard he was trying to stay firm even though his walls were cracking.
"Sometimes," Mr Liang said carefully. "With conditions."
Wenhao sat up straighter because he hadn't expected his father to agree at all. "What conditions."
"Your bodyguards stay outside the building. You answer your phone when I call. You come home if I ask you to. And you tell me where you are. Not every minute. But I need to know you're safe."
Wenhao pretended to think about it even though he would have agreed to ten more conditions just to get this one yes. "Fine. But you can't call me every hour. That's annoying."
"Every two hours," Mr Liang said and there was a tiny smile hiding at the corner of his mouth.
"Three hours," Wenhao said.
"Two and a half."
"Fine," Wenhao said and he almost smiled but he caught himself and made his face go serious again. "But I'm still angry at you. This doesn't mean I forgive you."
Mr Liang stood up from the chair and walked to the door and he put his hand on the handle and looked back at his son who was sitting on the bed with wet hair and soft pajamas and a face that was trying very hard to look tough.
"I know," Mr Liang said. "But you talked to me. That's a start."
Wenhao lay back down on his bed and stared at the clouds and he didn't say goodnight and he didn't say I love you and he didn't say anything at all.
But after his father closed the door Wenhao let himself smile a little because he was going to tell Shen Wei that he could stay over whenever he wanted.
At night .
Xinyi waited until the whole house was quiet because she wanted this moment to be perfect and she knew that the best surprises happen when no one else is watching and no one else is interrupting and no one else is there to ruin the magic.
She knocked on Ruifen's door at ten thirty and Ruifen opened it with sleepy eyes and messy hair and she was wearing an old oversized shirt that used to belong to her mother and she looked confused because no one had ever knocked on her door this late before.
"Put on your slippers," Xinyi said with a smile that was hiding something big. "I want to show you something."
Ruifen blinked and rubbed her eyes. "Now? It's ten thirty. At night."
"Yes now. Put your slippers on Ruifen I don't have all night."
Ruifen put on her slippers and followed Xinyi into the hallway and the house was dark except for the small lights near the floor that guided the way and the servants had all gone to their quarters and the only sound was their footsteps on the cold marble floor.
They walked past the dining room and past the kitchen and past the study where Mr Liang was still working and then they turned down a hallway that Ruifen had never seen before because she had only been in the house for two days and the house was so big that you could get lost for hours if you didn't know where you were going.
Xinyi stopped in front of a door at the very end of the hallway and this door was different from the others because it had a small sign on it that was blank and waiting for a name.
"Close your eyes," Xinyi said.
Ruifen looked at her with suspicion. "Why?"
"Because I said so. Close them."
Ruifen closed her eyes and she heard the door open and Xinyi took her hand and led her inside and the air in the room smelled different than the rest of the house. It smelled like wood and paint and possibility.
"Okay," Xinyi said softly. "Open them."
Ruifen opened her eyes and her hands flew to her mouth and she froze like someone had turned her into a statue because she couldn't believe what she was seeing.
The room was big and bright even though it was night time because there were soft lights everywhere and the walls were white and clean and in the middle of the room there were three easels standing in a row with blank canvases on each one.
Against the left wall there was a long wooden table covered with art supplies. Paintbrushes in every size. Acrylic paints and watercolors and oil paints. Pencils and charcoal and pastels. Sketch pads and colored pencils and markers and pens.
Against the right wall there were shelves filled with blank canvases of every size from tiny ones that could fit in your palm to huge ones that were almost as tall as Ruifen herself.
In the corner there was a comfortable old couch with soft blankets and a small table with a lamp and a cup holder for tea or coffee or water or whatever Ruifen wanted to drink while she worked.
And on the wall near the window there was a cork board that stretched from the floor to the ceiling and it was empty but Ruifen knew that one day it would be filled with her drawings and her paintings and her memories.
Ruifen walked into the room like she was walking into a dream and she touched one of the blank canvases with her fingertips and her hand was shaking.
"Xinyi," she whispered and her voice cracked because there were too many emotions in her throat and they were all trying to come out at once. "What is this?"
Xinyi leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed and her smile was soft and her eyes were bright. "It's your room. For painting and sketching and drawing and making a mess and being loud and being quiet and being whatever you want to be. I told you this morning that I would buy you proper paper and proper pencils. I didn't say I would stop there."
Ruifen turned around and her eyes were already wet and her lip was trembling and she looked at Xinyi like she was looking at something holy. "You did all of this. In one day?"
Xinyi shrugged like it wasn't a big deal even though she had been planning it since breakfast and she had called three different art stores and she had sent servants to pick everything up and she had spent her whole afternoon setting up the room while Ruifen was at school. "I had help. The servants did most of the heavy lifting. I just told them what to buy."
Ruifen walked to the table and ran her fingers over the paintbrushes and the pencils and the markers and she picked up a stick of charcoal and held it like it was made of gold.
"I used to draw with a pencil I found on the street," Ruifen said and her voice was so quiet that Xinyi had to lean forward to hear her. "My mother saved newspapers for me and I drew on the margins. The blank spaces between articles. I drew flowers and houses and birds and faces. I drew my mother's face so many times that I could draw it with my eyes closed."
Xinyi walked into the room and stood next to Ruifen and put her arm around her shoulders. "Draw it again. Draw her face again. Put it on the cork board so we can see her every day."
Ruifen turned and buried her face in Xinyi's shoulder and she cried but they were not sad tears and they were not angry tears and they were not lonely tears. They were tears of someone who had never been given anything just for the sake of being happy.
Xinyi held her and rubbed her back and didn't say shh or don't cry or it's okay because crying was okay and Ruifen deserved to cry as much as she wanted.
After a few minutes Ruifen pulled back and wiped her face with her sleeve and laughed a little because she was embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cry on your dress."
Xinyi looked down at her dress and there was a wet spot on the shoulder and she didn't care at all. "This dress is old. I was going to throw it away anyway. You did me a favor."
Ruifen laughed again and it was a real laugh this time and she looked around the room again and her eyes were wide and wonder filled like a child on Christmas morning.
"Can I?" Ruifen started and then stopped because she was afraid to ask for too much.
"Can you what?" Xinyi said.
"Can I stay here tonight? In this room? Just for tonight. I want to draw something. I don't even know what yet. But I want to stay here and draw until I fall asleep on the couch."
Xinyi smiled and walked to the door and turned off the bright lights and left on the soft lamp near the couch so Ruifen would have enough light to see but not so much that it hurt her eyes.
"This is your room now," Xinyi said from the doorway. "You can stay here every night if you want. You can sleep on the couch or you can drag your bed in here or you can just sit on the floor and draw until your hand cramps. I don't care. It's yours."
Ruifen picked up a paintbrush and held it to her chest like it was a stuffed animal. "Xinyi."
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For seeing me. For not treating me like a secret or a mistake. For making me feel like I belong somewhere."
Xinyi's heart felt so full that she thought it might burst but she kept her face calm and her smile gentle because she didn't want Ruifen to start crying again. "You don't have to thank me for giving you what you always deserved. Just draw. Make beautiful things. That's all the thanks I need."