Daughters of the Elite - Chapter 108

Warning: This chapter will include some violence and gritty details for fictitious purposes.

—

Lin Anni brewed some hot tea as Qian Meigui waited at the kitchen table, looking out the window as she tucked a shawl over her, protecting herself from the cold chill. She sent Song Sheng a message before her aunt returned to the table.

Lin Anni poured two cups of Jasmine tea in front of her, passing it along. Qian Meigui took it, blowing the smoke away to drink it. She looked at the tea leaves on the bottom of the cup, and she recalled a time when she was younger, her mother taught her how to read dry tea leaves. But she had forgotten what any of them meant. Her mother told her she had learned from her time studying medicine abroad in Europe.

Lin Anni sat across her; her face grave and weary. Qian Meigui watched her cautiously, waiting. Her aunt took a deep breath, drinking some of the tea, Qian Meigui also drank it.

“That man,” Lin Anni began, though she appeared lost in thought. “Is my ex-husband,” she said.

Qian Meigui’s eye widened in surprise; her heart nearly stopped. But she waited for her to continue.

“My sister was someone bright, energetic, eager, and intelligent; we both were excited to learn and study biology, to advance medicine and technology,” she paused, circling her the edges of the teacup with her finger. “We met Song Rui when we began to work in the field. He was intelligent and resourceful, but an ambitious man. He invested in many people, made millions of yuan as a result. But out of all his pupils, Aiguo was the one whose studies would bring his company further in the industry. He pressured her to advance the research knowing it was dangerous, but Song Rui assured her that no harm would come. He didn’t expect…”

Qian Meigui’s eyes remained wide, startled. “He didn’t expect that those who would harm her would be someone close to them,” she finished.

Lin Anni smiled, “precisely,” she responded.

Qian Meigui’s head began to feel heavy, dizzy, different than the feeling of alcohol. Her vision blurred, and she tried hard to keep her consciousness. She recalled the tea leaves were different, the taste, bitter.

Lin Anni appeared to be sorry in her own twisted way. “Perhaps, I should be thankful that Song Rui erased your name,” Qian Meigui remembered hearing her say before her head fell on the table, her consciousness fading.

—

Song Sheng was at the mansion with Song Ren and Su Feng and the others when he received a message from Qian Meigui: Mayday.

It was only one word, but his heart nearly stopped.

The other night, they talked about codes to use to alarm him whether she was safe, suspecting of something, or in danger. Mayday asked for help because something was wrong. He waited until she sent him a message from the location of the house she was staying at. Since he received it, both Su Feng and Song Jun worked on their computers, tracking the location while Song Sheng was speaking to Rong Ming over the phone. He had to pay millions for a helicopter and some men, but Song Sheng did not care; he spent the money without blinking at the numbers.

He had been preparing for this moment for weeks, and though he had seen her less than 48 hours ago, he was still worried.

“We received a location,” said Su Feng. Song Sheng went over to Su Feng leaning over Song Jun’s shoulder where his younger brother spoke to him, “I sent a drone over to that location,” he said while using a remote to drive it from his screen. Song Sheng was grateful for him, though puzzled by how quick and advanced he was with technology. “I’ll update you from here,” Song Jun said to him. “You should go now,” he finished.

Song Sheng nodded. He dressed up in black military uniform, and Song Ren kissed Su Feng, wearing the same suit with her long black hair tied up. She followed him towards the helicopter that waited on their massive green front yard. He wouldn’t allow Song Ren to go with him, but she insisted, and he felt like her fierceness was useful.

Rong Ming was driving the helicopter when he saw Song Sheng and Song Ren come in. They then left to the unknown.

—

Qian Meigui was dreaming, but her dreams turned to nightmares.

She began to remember the days of the past, the ones she did not forget, but kept locked in her mind to save it for another day, and perhaps that day was today.

In her unconscious memories, she recalled a time when she was at home reading a book on true crime in her father’s study room. The door parted slightly, and it was cold, and there was a fire burning at the fireplace in the living room, warming her parents. Qian Meigui wore a cream-coloured skirt with a red turtle-neck sweater. She glanced through the opened door.

She saw her mother in the living room speaking over the phone while drinking a cup of whiskey, or something else she did not know, most liquors looked the same to her.

But what startled her was when she heard glass shatter and a loud thunder erupt in the room. It sounded like thunder because it rang in her ears with such ferocity. Her heart pounded and thumped, so she walked towards the living room where she found her father lying on the ground surrounded by a pool of blood. Her mother was kneeling over him, frightened and pale. She looked over at Qian Meigui; Qian Aiguo knelt eye-widened in shock with blood staining the strands of her brown hair; blood splattered on her face like a painting.

“Come here,” Qian Aiguo turned and beckoned her.

Qian Meigui approached them carefully. She felt like her heart stilled, nothing registering in her blank mind.

“Is he dead?” Qian Meigui asked her mother in a quivering voice, kneeling next to her.

“Shhh,” was all she said while caressing her face, the blood smearing on her. “It’s okay,” she tried to soothe her, but even her voice cracked with a sob.

“I need you to listen to me,” she said with tear-stained cheeks, but her eyes looked at Qian Meigui focused, determined. “There are bad people, after us,” she said.

Qian Meigui’s heart sped up, but Qian Aiguo told her everything, not sparing the fact that she was still a child.

“They shot us from outside; they will come in soon.” Qian Meigui felt dizzy as if she was about to faint. “I need you to pretend that you’re dead. I will pretend too. And if they notice you’re alive, they will kill you and me. Do you understand?” she told her. Qian Meigui nodded. She understood the task, if she doesn’t do this, then her mother would die, and she would never forgive herself for it.

The time for crying and wailing was for later. Qian Meigui felt frozen, numb. Her movements felt subconscious, automatic like a machine.

Qian Aiguo used a fireplace poker to scratch Qian Meigui with false wounds; blood oozed; she felt uncomfortable, but it was necessary to make it all the more convincing. Qian Aiguo did it to herself, positioned next to the shattered glass.

Qian Meigui kept her breath still when she heard people coming in, sweeping across the house. She positioned herself awkwardly and stiff, looking against the frame of the couch. But away from them. She opened her eyes and glanced at a wall mirror, as she saw the faces of the men come in wearing suits and visors, carrying enormous guns. The only one that was unmasked scoped the room, searching for something. She never forgot his face.

She shut her eyes as she noticed that they were looking at them. There were many bullets at the glass windows, and she felt like crying knowing that some of them went through her father, but she muffled her cries, stifled them.

The men were checking her parents, and her heart began to pound, but she tried to concentrate on feeling frozen.

She heard the steps of one of them approaching her; Qian Meigui stilled, but then they listened to an alarm sound wave through the room, piercing their ears. They ran immediately out of the house. When all footsteps left, Qian Aiguo rose to step towards her daughter. “Let’s take your father to the hospital,” she said. Qian Meigui nodded.

Her mother checked his pulse, but she stood there frozen, not saying a word. “He’s still alive,” she said. But Qian Meigui to this day didn’t know if her mother was lying.

Regardless, they heaved him up, trying to balance him. He was heavier than Qian Meigui imagined. But Qian Meigui remembered her mother telling her once that once a body dies, all muscles relax; therefore, it should be heavy. But she held onto hope as any other naive, eleven-year-old would try to convince herself.

They dragged him to the passenger seat of the car. Qian Aiguo drove the car on their way to the hospital. Qian Meigui remained seated at the back, lost in thought.

As they drove, Qian Aiguo called someone, speaking to him in English to prevent her from understanding.

But Qian Meigui noticed something was wrong when Qian Aiguo began to sway on the road. “Mom!” she called out, but Qian Aiguo’s head was bobbing. The car swerved, and next thing they knew, the car drove in the forest, in between the trees, crashing into one. Qian Meigui fell from her seat, but she bumped into the back of the driver’s seat. She then rose from a headache, climbing in between the driver and passenger. Qian Aiguo looked at her mother who looked back at her with her pale-white face and blood crusted lips. She looked as if she was on hanging on a thread.

Qian Aiguo opened her sweater, revealing a gunshot wound on her lower abdomen. Qian Meigui looked at her, stunned and horrified, unbelieving. Her mother then said with a dry-throat, “There’s a man,” she swallowed. “Song Rui. He will help you; trust him.”

Qian Meigui sobbed, grabbing her mother’s hand. Her mother smiled back. “I’m sorry,” was all she said before she closed her eyes and never woke again.

Qian Meigui remembered lying in between her parent’s waiting to die from starvation from thirst, she did not know, but she waited when a bright light from an ambulance came. She cringed at the light and paramedics arrived to pick her up. She now remembered that Song Rui was there, but she couldn’t remember a thing since she was in shock.

She then went to a hotel he arranged staring at walls, crying and wailing, but stopping at some points to stare into blank spaces. Then one day, Song Rui came in. She remembered her mother telling her to trust him; she did, but she was still afraid. Then his son, the young man in his school uniform with his soft golden-brown eyes, looked at her with a gentleness she had never seen before. He told her to come home with him that there will be people waiting for her. She took his hand, not knowing what her fate would be, but knowing what the boy said, meant a lot to her.

So she trusted him, taking his hand, hoping that wherever he took her, it would make her happy.

—

Qian Meigui woke in an unfamiliar place with tears running down her cheeks. She wasn’t sure where she was. Her hands weren’t tied, which was a good thing, but it was dark, and she couldn’t see a thing. A light then shone brightly from what appeared to be the top; someone walked through. It was Lin Anni’s ex-husband. Qian Meigui chuckled bitterly. He walked down with a cruel gracefulness. She now understood that she was in a bas.e.m.e.nt, but where and for how long? She did not know.

Qian Meigui was sure that this was her end.