In the room, the atmosphere had turned a little strange.
Marilyn's cheeks were faintly flushed, but she had clearly brought out that forthright American manner of hers, staring at Jiaming without blinking, her calf still resting in his lap. As for Jiaming, he froze for a moment, then gave a small shrug. "Uh, I don't think so, but... it just feels kind of strange..."
Really, by Jiaming's experience the situation in front of him was simple enough: it was just a matter of getting on top of her and doing it. In his former life, in order to leave no cracks in his career as an assassin, there had been no girlfriends, no romances, nothing of that sort; even comrades he could trust had been very few indeed. The assassin's trade was a lonely one; the only one you could trust was yourself.
Of course, under those circumstances he had still slept with women.
When there was no mission, he would occasionally pay for a high-class prostitute, a stranger, and after one night they never contacted each other again; or when he ran into a female assassin he found tolerable, they would trade notes on killing techniques while working through all sorts of acrobatic positions, one climax after another.
Sometimes, after a big job, even if he felt no desire at all, he still had to get a room and spend the night with someone; otherwise it always felt as though the whole thing had never been properly closed out.
Sex needed no reason. Sometimes it came from lust; sometimes there wasn't even lust. The present case was much the same.
Given how this woman behaved when she fell for someone, it was absolutely impossible that she had fallen in love with him—a little boy—in the space of ten-odd days. When you got down to it, today's events had hit her too hard.
Even if she said out loud that she had forgotten that man, she still needed some degraded, wallowing mood to numb herself. Of course, to an assassin who had struggled on the edge of life and death more times than he could count, that little touch of degradation didn't even qualify as a change of pace.
On the other hand, as far as Jiaming was concerned, his body at least was no longer that of a child, and he did have thoughts about that ripe woman's body, but...
It's just so strange...
"Uh, I..." Marilyn said softly. "I remembered how you gave me that injection that day, and... and the way you look at me sometimes. I thought maybe you'd... be interested in this sort of thing, and... that you'd like it..."
She had summoned up her courage, but the moment the words were out she felt awkward about it. A fourteen-year-old child was still a child—would doing this leave a mark on him for the rest of his life? Then she saw Jiaming let out a breath. "Of course I like it. Anyway, in this kind of thing the man is the one who comes out ahead. I'd never say no. As long as you've thought it through, then..."
At that, Marilyn bit her lower lip and reached up to undo her top. A moment later, as the white panties slid down the tempting curve of her thigh and that beautiful golden-haired body was laid out before Jiaming with nothing left to the imagination—something seemed to come to mind, and he scratched at his hair in some distress.
"Uh, that, you know... I'm only fourteen. Down there works too, but after all... ahem, it definitely can't compare to those American, uh... American whatever-they-are. If you... uh, what are you doing..."
While he was talking, Marilyn had already gotten off the bed, hopped over to him on one leg, and gracefully sank to her knees between his legs, raising her flushed cheeks.
"You... didn't you say I'd have to work like an ox and a horse for you for two lifetimes? Then let's... start now."
She pretended to be calm, but in truth she was tremendously stirred up, her heart pounding inside her chest like a drum. Her hands went to the waist of Jiaming's pants and undid them. Then suddenly grief welled up in her again, and tears came streaming down.
Jiaming sighed. He was just about to be blunt and push her away, when Marilyn stopped crying, lifted her face in a smile that mixed boldness with shyness, parted her sexy lips, and bent her head down toward his lap.
"Mmm..."
Jiaming spread his legs and lay back on the bed, staring up at the mosquito net above with a rather odd look on his face.
This is... such a strange feeling...
In the days that followed, Tang Jingyao's death threw all of Jianghai City into an uproar. Naturally, nothing led back to Jiaming.
Every noon and evening he went over to play with Heidi and teach her the rudiments of qi gong, with Marilyn tagging along and practicing at the side. Heidi was truly adorable; she loved to hang on Jiaming, calling "Brother, brother," and when a meal included something she didn't like, even her mother's coaxing only made her sulk off to one side—but one word from Jiaming and she would obediently eat it down. Set alongside his intimacy with Marilyn, Jiaming found it hard to say whether this relationship ought to be classified as brother and sister or father and daughter.
Since he ate supper at Lingjing's home and had to finish his homework at the Ye Family Martial Arts School, his evening visits were basically a few words and then out the door. Once Heidi had cried and fussed for him to eat with her, and he'd had to bolt a few bites before leaving. Heading out of the martial arts school around ten at night and then coming over here, the whole arrangement felt as though Lingjing were his wife and he were merely slipping out for an affair.
By then Heidi was usually asleep, and Jiaming and Marilyn would shut the bedroom door tight and make love in hushed voices. In fact neither of them had strong desires in that department; the reason they did it every night came from Marilyn's own little calculations.
On one hand she worried that this might affect Jiaming's future; on the other, she worried that if she refused, Jiaming would be unhappy—a man who had just gotten his first taste of it was bound to crave more.
That was what she believed, and since she also thought Jiaming would be too shy to ask, she requested that he come every night. Jiaming, for his part, could hardly refuse, and so it turned into this.
Even so, the time they actually spent having sex wasn't much. Figuring that Jiaming was still a growing child after all, she would mostly use her mouth to gently suck him off so long as he didn't take the initiative; after one round the two of them would lie in bed and chat about this and that. Basically Marilyn did the soft-voiced talking while Jiaming lay beside her listening, occasionally offering an opinion.
Compared with actual sex, Marilyn was more eager to display her body in front of Jiaming.
Every night the bedroom lamp stayed lit, and Marilyn would lie there without a stitch on, letting Jiaming touch her however he liked, or holding him the way a mother would, or else sitting off to one side while Marilyn rolled about gently and struck various poses so that he could admire every private part of her.
And whatever they were doing, this blonde beauty kept up a steady stream of small household chatter—how she'd nearly cut her hand chopping vegetables today, how Heidi had nearly tripped today in her daze, and so on, endlessly.
Jiaming would occasionally put in a word that meant nothing much. But he also knew that even if he said nothing at all, as long as he was there beside her, Marilyn could happily talk to herself until dawn; and whatever he wanted to do to her, she never declined or refused. Over time, a faint sense of warmth did grow in Jiaming's heart.
After a short nap, around two or three in the morning, Jiaming would sit in meditation on the bed and then run through some simple exercises. Marilyn naturally tried to learn too, though she always gave up because she couldn't keep up with his pace.
Sitting in meditation, she would prattle on about all sorts of mystical nonsense, speculating that Jiaming's origins might lie in being adopted by some great martial arts master, or that as a child he had fallen off a cliff and gained marvelous kung fu, or that he had lived through a series of strange and thrilling adventures in his childhood—one wild tale after another.
But it never went beyond her own fantasies; she never actually put these questions to Jiaming.
Spending time with her, Jiaming discovered that this standard foreign woman with her curvaceous figure had the heart of a Jiangnan girl—gentle, delicate, sensitive.
She never stinted on showing every bit of herself to someone close to her, merits and flaws alike; even the most embarrassing little secret in her heart she would bring out and share with Jiaming as though it were something amusing.
It might not be love, but she truly could hand over everything she had to him without reservation and without asking anything in return.
Now and then, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the bed with no clothes on, clumsily forming mudras while she talked softly, she could send Jiaming's desire surging until he wished he could push her down on the spot. How to put it? Maybe two words covered it: sweetly naive.
That week, on Saturday and Sunday, Jiaming lied to Lingjing and Shasha and put an end to that three-person cohabitation. Knowing the separation was coming, Marilyn insisted that he spend at least two days with Heidi, and Heidi herself cried and fussed for him to spend a holiday with her.
Mother and daughter were still suspects in the Tang Jingyao case, so going out was out of the question; during the day he played video games with Heidi, and now and then the three of them played a little game together, perfectly happy. Once Heidi was asleep at night, he and Marilyn chatted in the room.
In those two days they did not strip naked and talk in bed until dawn; instead they turned off the light and slept under one quilt like a married couple, holding each other.
On Monday afternoon, after school, Jiaming didn't go to the Ye house; instead he had a good hearty meal with the mother and daughter. As the sun went down, the three of them walked out the door and headed for a small park not far away. The moment of parting was almost upon them.
"You've forgotten him now, right?"
"Mm. Forgotten."
"Not sad anymore?"
"Not sad anymore."
"Mm, good. Then it's on to a new life. After you go back to America, if you find someone better—"
"Don't say it!"
"Hm?"
"I'm not going to marry another man. Chinese customs are beautiful. My body has been given to you, so it won't go to anyone else."
"You big-titted, brainless woman. Back when the streets of China were full of horse carts and everyone lived in thatched huts, sure, there was a custom like that. Things are different now. Besides... I can't give you anything. I'm fourteen now, and you're exactly twice my age. Which means when I'm twenty, you'll be forty, and when I'm twenty-five, you'll be fifty—ow."
"Nonsense." The blonde woman smacked the little man beside her, her voice coquettish. "What I've decided won't change. Whether or not you belong to me, I'll always belong to you. As long as you remember me now and then, give me a call, or come see me, that's enough. And if you need me, I'll come to your side right away."
The little girl, skipping along ahead of them, couldn't hear her mother and her brother clearly; she just laughed and pointed at a spot where several children had gathered. "Brother, brother, what's that?"
"That? That's cotton candy. Does Heidi want some?" Jiaming looked that way. It was a little cotton-candy machine: a middle-aged man poured white sugar into the middle, and it turned into fine threads of sugar that flew out all around; twirl a little bamboo stick and they stuck to it, gradually forming a big puff of cotton candy.
"Can you eat it? Yay!"
The three of them walked to the little stall, and Jiaming paid for three cotton candies. There were a lot of people, so the children had to line up to get theirs. Heidi stood in front of the machine watching the cotton candy being made, her eyes round with amazement and sparkling, her expression utterly adorable. Jiaming and Marilyn sat down on a row of chairs nearby.
"I hope you won't tell anyone about me, and don't contact me for no reason—that would make things very difficult for me."
"Mm." Marilyn looked at her interlaced fingers and answered with her head down, like a dutiful little wife.
"Of course, if there's real danger, if your life or Heidi's is threatened, I have an emergency contact number here. Leave a message and I'll come." He took out a slip of paper and handed it over. "Keep it safe."
"Mm!" Marilyn took the paper and tucked it into her clothes, and this time her nod was much more vigorous.
"Personally, I think it'd be better not to let Heidi get involved with the Mafia. It's not a good line of work. Of course, I don't get a say—if you and your father think—"
"I'll do what you say." Marilyn smiled and nodded. "I said I'd work like an ox and a horse for you for two lifetimes. Whatever you say, I'll listen."
"Ha—working like an ox and a horse is fine, as long as it's in bed." Jiaming said with a smile.
A little later Heidi came over holding three sticks of cotton candy, and the three of them sat in a row there, nibbling at them. Seeing that the agreed time was nearly at hand, Jiaming took Heidi's hand and the three of them walked toward a patch of lawn not far off.
"Heidi."
"Mm."
"Promise Brother Jiaming one thing, okay?"
"Mm."
"Don't tell anyone about your brother. All right?"
"Mm."
"We agreed yesterday—Heidi isn't allowed to cry." Jiaming smiled and cupped Heidi's little face in his hands. She had finished her cotton candy and had been nodding while furiously licking at the little bamboo stick; now her eyes were swimming with tears. Seeing his smiling face, she burst out with a "Waaah": "I'm sorry, Heidi couldn't hold it in, I'm sorry..."
"All right, we agreed, didn't we? If there's a chance, Brother Jiaming will come see you." He gently hugged the little girl, and after a moment put the half-eaten cotton candy in his hand into hers. "Don't cry anymore. Brother Jiaming will give you this stick. Be a good girl."
When she raised her head, Marilyn's eyes were shining with tears too. The two embraced lightly; she lowered her head, and her lips met Jiaming's. There were many old people out for a stroll nearby, so they didn't dare kiss for long; anyone who saw would take it for a Western custom.
"I'll miss you," Marilyn said.
Jiaming smiled. "Same as I said: if you meet a man you like, marry him. Don't be stubborn."
Marilyn didn't answer; she only shook her head through her tears.
Then Heidi came over and hugged Jiaming again. It should have been just a kiss on the cheek, but the little girl insisted on pressing her sugar-smeared lips to Jiaming's mouth, and then she choked out, "You have to watch me go."
"Mm." Jiaming nodded.
"And when I grow up, I'm going to marry you." The little girl's expression was resolute. Jiaming laughed and ruffled her hair.
Marilyn took the little girl by the hand, wiped away her tears, and walked toward the little fountain in the middle of the lawn. Holding that stick of cotton candy, the little girl looked back at every step at the boy not far behind who kept waving. Soon they reached the fountain; the two foreigners who had been sitting on its rim with their backs to this side finally noticed them, and an old man and a young one came to meet them.
"Daddy, why are you here too?"
"We've made a temporary peace with the Gambino family. When I heard something had happened to you, I came over with Joseph immediately. Ah—let's go home." The old man hugged her and said.
"Marilyn, I'm glad you're all right." The man named Joseph gazed at Marilyn's lovely face, the fervor in his eyes hard to conceal.
Taking no notice of the adults' conversation, the little girl turned back with her cotton candy in hand; the figure she wanted one more glimpse of had already disappeared among the small trees and was gone.