Was Kiyotaka hiding scandalous interests behind his prim-and-proper facade?
“Oh, I don’t have any odd preferences,” he replied. “Probably.”
“Probably?”
“Yes, I’d consider myself quite average.” He smiled. “Aoi’s feelings toward me are similar to that concept, though.”
“Huh? I’m not sure if I understand... Could you explain it in more detail?”
“Let’s see...” Kiyotaka looked up at the sky. “There’s a part of me that even I have difficulty accepting. I loathe it and feel guilty about it, yet I can never detach it from myself—like a fetish. I thought I’d have to hide it for the rest of my life, but Aoi accepted it as part of me.”
The fetish thing was an extreme example. What he means is that people harbor dirty secrets. I can’t say with certainty that it applies to me too, but I’m sure I have my own insecurities.
“Aoi embraced the part of me that I couldn’t accept,” he continued. “She told me she loved all of me, including my flaws.” His words were charged with emotion, but it wasn’t passion—it was the gratitude of a sinner saved by a sage.
So Kiyotaka loves Aoi because she accepted the “fetish-like” part of him. I get what he’s saying, though truthfully, I have difficulty believing it.
“But maybe she unconsciously accepted that part of Ensho too,” Yilin murmured to herself as she stared at the pitch-black river. Realizing she’d said her thoughts out loud, she gasped and covered her mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be asking you things like this.”
“It’s fine.” Kiyotaka shook his head. “I think Ensho is drawn to Aoi for a different reason than I am.”
“Huh?”
He gave Yilin a sidelong glance and grinned mischievously. “So I doubt he’s as obsessed with her as I am.”
“Obsessed?” Yilin giggled.
He’s probably trying to encourage me. Feeling guilty, she averted her eyes. Her apartment had come into view, so she stopped walking and bowed.
“Here is fine,” she said. “Thank you, Kiyotaka.”
Kiyotaka also stopped and bowed. “I’ll be on my way, then. Until next time.”
Yilin climbed the stairs to the road where her apartment was. Although it was advertised as a luxury condo, the building was only three stories high due to Kyoto City’s landscape regulations.
She unlocked the front door and entered the lobby, which was reminiscent of a hotel’s. The east wall was fitted with glass panes, providing a view of the Kamo River. She noticed that Kiyotaka was still by the riverside. He must have been watching her, and after confirming that she’d safely entered the building, he continued north as if nothing had happened.
“He really is a gentleman.”
Every time she observed one of his flawless aspects, she couldn’t help but wonder why he’d chosen Aoi. It wasn’t that she looked down on Aoi. Kiyotaka was just too outstanding. While she understood his explanation, it didn’t sit right with her.
Yilin entered her room at the end of the third floor and said, “Juhua, I’m home. Turn on the TV.”
The TV screen lit up and a voice said, “Welcome back.”
This Juhua wasn’t a servant but an AI assistant. Yilin had named it after her nanny. She’d told it to turn on the TV because she’d heard that tonight’s business program would feature her father, Zhifei Jing. There was still time before it aired, but by leaving the TV on, she wouldn’t have to worry about missing it. Naturally, she was also recording it, but she wanted to watch it live.
She quickly showered and ate her convenience store salad while she had the chance. Afterward, she sat in front of the TV, sipping sparkling water. As she was gazing absentmindedly at the screen, the program began.
Zhifei Jing was introduced as an entrepreneur who conducted business in Asia. The show described him as “a successful man who rode the waves of China’s economic bubble.”
Many people had this impression of him, but Yilin’s perception was a bit different. It was said that China’s bubble had been triggered by the Beijing Olympics, but her father’s success had predated that.
Her father had met a woman named Keqing at Beijing University, fallen in love, and married her. Keqing came from a wealthy family. It was their financial support and Xiaoping Deng’s “A Few Getting Rich First” policy that had allowed Yilin’s father to expand his business. By the time Keqing had given birth to two daughters and a son (Xuan), Yilin’s father had become one of China’s leading entrepreneurs.
“So my family was already rich when I was a child,” Yilin murmured.
The home she’d grown up in had been on the top floor of a high-rise building with a private elevator. She’d constantly been attended to by her nanny, servants, and tutors.
Yilin sighed. “But I couldn’t live with my family.”
Her father had lived in the main house with her half-siblings and grandparents. Yilin had only been allowed to visit them for Chinese New Year. While she had looked forward to the annual gathering, she had also dreaded it.
“I might not get to talk to father much again.”
“My brother might say mean things to me again.”
“My sisters might ignore me again.”
“My grandparents and relatives might glare at me again.”
Her fears had usually come true. In her early years, she’d wondered, Why am I the only one they treat like an outsider? But around age seven, one of her female relatives had told her the truth: “Your mother was horrible.” After that, Yilin had accepted her fate.
Yilin’s mother, Zhilin, had approached Yilin’s father—a married man—for his fortune. Upon learning that her husband had cheated on her and gotten the other woman pregnant, Keqing had spiraled into despair and taken her own life. After that, Zhilin, the plague who had driven an innocent woman to her death, had married Yilin’s father, given birth to Yilin, divorced him, and disappeared after receiving her settlement.
Yilin had told Ensho about her background before. They’d been drinking beer by the Shanghai coast, admiring Pudong’s night skyline.
“Despite that, after my mother gave birth to me, she left my father right away, taking the biggest settlement she could. Because of that, my father’s relatives treat me like a nuisance. My brother hates me enough that he wants to kill me.”
Remembering what she’d said, she smiled bitterly. “Come to think of it, that was the first time I ever told anyone.”
Yilin didn’t know where her mother was or what she was doing. She only knew what she looked like from a few old photographs. As it turned out, mother and daughter bore a striking resemblance. That was probably part of why all of her relatives hated her. They’d always been whispering, “She’ll grow up to deceive men too” and “She’s the daughter of a she-devil.” Even her father clearly saw her as a symbol of his mistakes. That was why he avoided her, unable to look her in the eye.
If Yilin was harboring something within her, it was guilt.
“If only I didn’t exist, Keqing wouldn’t have died...” Her chest ached. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, pressing her closed fist to her forehead.