Seventy

At this moment, countless questions and furious accusations piled upon his chest like a precarious tower, yet he couldn't voice a single one; he didn't know which words to choose, until his whole chest felt fit to burst. 'You like him that much?' 'You'd throw away your most basic dignity for him?' 'This is a man's affair, what are you meddling for?' 'If he can't manage, he shouldn't run a company; what's the point of starting one if it means letting a woman suffer for him?'... He couldn't say any of it. He could only hold it in. And he held it in so hard, so furiously, that even Zhang Mo-mo looked at his face and couldn't help but worry. "All right, it was wrong... Don't be angry, Xiang Zuo, it was wrong, don't be angry..."

Zhang Mo-mo was truly flustered now. Xiang Zuo's face had gone beyond anger, and the veins at his temple stood out faintly; if he weren't still young, not yet aged, she would almost believe that in the next moment he'd be so enraged he'd suffer a stroke or a heart attack or some other terrible calamity. This man, it was already clear—his life would surely end because she drove him to his death! That was how it was, no doubt!

Frightened, she softened at once; thinking to herself that from now on, she must never oppose him, never quarrel, never make him so angry. She reached out, smoothing his heaving chest, gently, again and again. "Don't be angry, it was wrong... I misspoke, thank you for saving me, thank you for arriving in time..."

Her words tumbled out, incoherent; she had no idea what she was really trying to say, just babbling, trying to appease him. But Xiang Zuo suddenly seized her hand, the one she was using to calm him, gripping it tightly; in his eyes was nothing but the pain of two people speaking entirely at cross purposes, unable to reach each other.

"Zhang Mo-mo—treated like a treasure, unwilling to let you suffer or worry even a little... Yet for Song Jia-kai, you degrade yourself like this. Is it degrading yourself? Or is it... degrading? Zhang Mo-mo, really..."

At this point, this tough man actually choked up. He was choking back tears, lips pressed tight, eyes rimmed red; as if one more word would break the dam and let the tears flow. He held it in, held it in, and when at last he could speak again with a cold face, Xiang Zuo furrowed his brows deeply and shouted, "Get out of the car!"

Zhang Mo-mo, her face streaked with fruit pulp, stood by the roadside; her arm still stretched out, frozen in the pose she'd used to soothe Xiang Zuo's anger, unable to move. Her only worry now was that he wouldn't drive too fast! Please, don't drive fast! She pursed her lips and, with all her strength, shouted after the car, "Drive carefully!"

Hardly had the words left her mouth when the car, already speeding away, reversed and raced back to her; with a screech it stopped right in front of her, and Zhang Mo-mo finally breathed a sigh of relief. "Drive slowly! Be careful!"

The window rolled down slowly, and Xiang Zuo, as if he hadn't heard a word of her concern, stared at Zhang Mo-mo with a face frozen in bitter frost.

"If you ever do something so foolish again, let Song Jia-kai build his towers with all his money, but his towers will never sell!"

The car shot off again like an arrow, leaving Zhang Mo-mo stamping her feet in frustration. She cupped her hands into a makeshift megaphone and shouted once more, "Drive carefully!"