Sons of High Society - Chapter 3：Long Huojin

Wang Weimin opened the door of his Astin Martin for her. Xue Guangli hopped in, onto the passenger seat, fastening her seatbelt.

“So, where are we going?” she asked him as he began to drive.

“We are going to see a show,” he said.

“Who are we seeing?” she asked him curiously.

“A Violinist,” he said.

Xue Guangli’s heart stilled. What? It couldn’t be…

Upon arrival, both of them took to their seats on the second row beneath the stage. When the show began, everyone was quiet. Xue Guangli felt her heart pounding violently.

But when the performer reached the stage, it wasn’t who she thought it was that begun to perform. Slowly she released a breath, sighing in relief. The violinist played well, but something about her music stirred up some memories she thought she had forgotten.

After the female violinist finished her piece, everyone clapped and cheered. The woman then went to speak on the microphone while holding her violin in one hand. “Hello, thank you for coming to my show,” she said, flushed from the performance, glowing.

“I would now like to bring out a special guest. He will be retiring soon from the violin, so this will be his last show. Please show your support to my friend, Long Huojin.”

The violinist then pointed to the end of the stage where Long Huojin stepped forward with his expression hard and taut. Nothing about him changed, except his cheeks were sharper, hollow; his eyes resembled the ripples of a winter storm — his hair grown over his eyes, loose and straight.

Xue Guangli’s chest rose. She then glanced at Wang Weimin, whose expression darkened. He didn’t expect Long Huojin to be a guest at the concert either, Xue Guangli thought.

Long Huojin stood at the centre of the stage, placing the violin underneath his chin, beginning to strum the strings with a bow. He kept his eyes closed, his brows knitted in concentration. He wore a full grey-suit; his black hair swayed as he moved his arm along with playing the notes entirely.

She remembered watching him when they were younger; he used to play in his room, leaving the window wide open, and she would hear him.

Long Huojin picked up the speed of his piece, the sound lifting with ferocity as if he was trying to pour his everything into it, conveying something she could not quite decipher.

His face revealed something almost like sadness, but why was he sad?

He began to slow down again when he finally came to a full stop. Xue Guangli saw him panting slightly, his breathing heavy. That was when he gazed at the crowd, and suddenly, his pale-blue eyes looked at her, unwavering.

Xue Guangli did not tear away from his impenetrable gaze; she could not believe it. She turned around to see if he was looking at anything else, perhaps it was in her head.

But when she looked towards the stage again, he was still looking at her, sweat trickling down his temple. He then bowed to the crowd for his performance, and people cheered him on as he vanished backstage, out of sight.

Wang Weimin stood, shooting her an awkward smile. He then said, “I want to introduce you to the main violinist,” he said to relieve the tension. Xue Guangli smiled back grimly, nodding. They both pretended that the last twenty minutes never happened.

Wang Weimin introduced her to the head violinist, Qi Peijing. She stepped down from the platform of the stage. “Hello, Mr. Wang,” she said, then glancing at Xue Guangli. “And you are?” she asked her.

“Ah, my name is Xue Guangli,” she said. “Your performance was marvellous and alluring.”

Qi Peijing sucked in a sharp breath as if she suddenly felt some familiarity. Perhaps she knew about what happened to the Xue family. But she smiled politely, “Thank you, miss Xue; you’re too kind.”

Someone had walked past when Qi Peijing said, “Ah, let me introduce you to a friend I’ve worked with.” She then beckoned Long Huojin, who looked like he was about to leave with a wave of her hand. Long Huojin then came over swiftly with his hands in his pocket, his face tight and reserved yet graceful.

“This is Long Huojin,” she said.

Xue Guangli offered him a curt nod, but she didn’t look at him directly, but he returned the sentiment.

Wang Weimin enclosed his arm around her waist, instinctively, protectively. “We are well acquainted with Mr. Long,” he said as politely as he could muster with a hint of bitterness.

Xue Guangli gave them a small smile, nodding in confirmation.

“Oh, marvellous,” Qi Peijing began. “Do you play any instruments?” she asked Xue Guangli.

Xue Guangli shook her head, smiling. “No, my sister does.”

Before Qi Peijing could offer a response, Wang Weimin blurted out. “My dear Guangli is an artist!”

Xue Guangli felt disheartened. He knew she hadn’t painted since…, and now she felt like a fraud, but she bit down the bitter thought. She felt Long Houjin stare at her, but she ignored him as she raised her head, chin held high.

“Oh? Do you sell any work?” she asked Xue Guangli. She shook her head again. “No. I am not a professional artist,” she said modestly.

Xue Guangli felt embarrassed because she hadn’t done anything remotely profound. But she recovered herself by shaking Qi Peijing’s hand, complimenting her once more before she began to walk away. She offered Long Huojin a short bow without meeting his eye. Wang Weimin stepped next to her as they left the venue.

They walked back to the car when Wang Weimin asked, “What do you think of Miss Qi?” he asked.

Xue Guangli sat inside. “I think she’s a sweet woman,” she responded, fastening her seatbelt.

Wang Weimin took her out to eat, speaking about their day as the twilight dawned. The night darkened when he took her home.

At the porch, he kissed her on the lips lightly before she returned inside the house; they haven’t done anything beyond kisses since they began dating. Xue Guangli felt like she wasn’t ready; she felt too hollowed out.

She entered her home, climbing up the staircase, slipping into her bedroom. She flipped on the television on a random channel to play in the background as she changed.

Xue Guangli changed into a white nightshift when she heard an interview on the television. A woman had asked Long Huojin about his competitions overseas. Long Huojin stated that his return meant that he was retiring from the violin as he wishes to focus on his father’s tech company, as he will be taking over it soon.

Long Group had one of the most successful tech companies within the country; they were also a conglomerate with e-commerce, telecommunications, and technology. If her father weren’t a member of the High Society, she would doubt every crossing paths with Long Huojin or Wang Weimin.

Xue Guangli shut off the television, flicking off the lights, falling over the coverlets of her bed, sighing; her long hair slipped over her shoulders.

She then looked over at the window of her neighbour’s house, the one parallel of her room, and the lights were on.