Chapter 33 - The Unknown Story

The fire had long been extinguished when Qing Chen arrived at the scene. Qing Lok quickly updated him of what had been going on. He scanned the area as the lingering smell of the smoke was still in the air. There was a police line that surrounded the area. Most part of the left side of the building had been charred to black. Remnants of the broken windows were still on the sill. The right side of the property were mostly undamaged aside from the parts were the flames licked the walls.

"The officers are still scanning the area, but so far no casualties," Qing Lok concluded.

"Okay," he answered. Qing Chen walked closer to the police officer who liked he was in charge. He held out his hand, "Good evening, sir. Qing Chen, CEO of The Kingly."

The man looked at his hand first before shaking it. "Xu Wang." He surveyed the area. "They are suspecting that the source of the fire was a gas tank. That seems a little implausible because the gas tanks have locks and the room where they think the fire started was empty. That's why we couldn't really rule out arson."

Qing Chen took a deep breath. The Seven Seas Motel were one of the oldest legal properties that the mafia had. "Thank you, sir. We will be in full cooperation with the police and the fire department. My PR manager is already on her way, she will handle the press."

The policeman only grunted in response. Qing Chen spent a few more minutes at the scene, talking about compensation to their current customers—he gave them free accommodation to The Kingly Hotel and arranged for a bus to pick them up. For the others who had lost valuable items in the fire, he told them that his lawyer will be in touch. He didn't leave the scene until his PR manager showed up, looking like she had just gotten off work when he called her.

Qing Lok insisted on staying for a little while and said that he would have the report on his desk first thing in the morning. On the way back to the house, Qing Chen's stomach tightened about facing Feng Xuan. He was not worried about the story of his tattoo. He was more worried that he might've offended her when he didn't tell her about the ink that covered his body.

Feng Xuan had been sitting on the living room couch, flipping through the channels on the television. She was not much of a TV person as she wanted to spend most of her hours away from electronics.

She finally stopped clicking the remote but her eyes weren't focused on the cooking show. She was lightly nibbling on her lips, thinking about what she saw in the bedroom. There was Qing Chen, half n.a.k.e.d. Sure, it shocked her. But the huge tattoo on his back… what was it?

She was so shocked she thought her mind didn't save an image of it. All she knew was that it covered his skin, from his shoulders to his waist. She was pretty sure it was a flower that covered his spine.

She shivered at the thought of how much it must've hurt to get them. Her heart started pounding when she heard the car coming up the driveway. She even peeked from the window and sure enough, it was Qing Chen's car.

Feng Xuan braced herself and focused hard on the television. She wanted to appear calm, like her mind wasn't thinking of theories on what the tattoo was about for the past hour.

The front door opened and Qing Chen went in.

"Hi!" Feng Xuan said as he entered the door.

"Hey," Qing Chen answered, shrugging his coat off. "Hungry?"

Feng Xuan nodded although food was the last thing in her mind. They went to the kitchen and she pulled out the pan from the oven. She roasted some pork and poured a sweet and sour sauce over it.

"Will it be fine if we just eat here on the counter?" Qing Chen asked.

"Sure," she answered, handing him a fork. They began tearing the pork into pieces. Feng Xuan took only a few slices in her mouth. She wasn't sure if she was going to be the one to open the conversation about the tattoo.

From the corner of her eyes, Qing Chen was extremely calm.

"What happened?" she asked him.

"There was a fire. But it's fine now," he said. "One of my managers is already there with Qing Lok."

She began to worry. "Was anybody hurt?"

He shook his head. "But some lost their items in the fire. But everyone's well."

A few more seconds passed.

"How's your day?" he asked.

"It's fine, school was a little uneventful."

"How's the cake?"

"Oh!" she said and went to the fridge. She pulled out a cake stand and a glass encased violet cake. "It's custard with ube yam."

Qing Chen's eyebrows shut upwards with the beautiful cake in front of him. Feng Xuan carefully sliced the cake, in probably the most satisfying way with the precision and smoothness of the cut. She put it on a smaller plate and pushed it in front of him.

"Have a taste," she said, a little nervous.

Qing Chen forked the cake and he saw the layers in it. When he put it in his mouth, the texture of the cake… the mild sweetness in it… he couldn't find the word to explain the flavors. He forked another bit. "This is pure heaven."

"Really?!" Feng Xuan grinned.

"What do you think about opening your own coffee and cake shop?"

She let out a laugh. "That's kind of a stretch."

"Think about it. I'll find you a spot in the hotel. I'll make you partner in our restaurant."

Her eyes went wide. "Really?!"

Qing Chen nodded at her with a smile. He quickly finished his cake. "Aren't you going to eat?"

"I'll eat some tomorrow."

Qing Chen's eyes softened like he knew why she didn't really have an appetite.

"I'll meet you upstairs? I'll clean up a bit."

"Okay."

It was as if Feng Xuan's heart did not calm down during their dinner and as she washed the dishes. She was so nervous she took a quick shower, scrubbing on her skin as if she could wash it all away. Once she was already in her night clothes, she strode to their bedroom.

Qing Chen was already there in his pajamas, on his phone. She silently got on the mattress. She silently cursed their small bed. Their previous bed had not still arrived.

"Are you ready?" Qing Chen asked, putting his phone on the nightstand.

"Huh?" left Feng Xuan's lips.

Qing Chen just smiled at her kindly and got up from the bed, starting on his buttons. "I'll answer your questions. But to tell you honestly, I don't know much of the answers myself."

Feng Xuan felt like she wanted to bite her lips when Qing Chen started to remove his night shirt. His chest, biceps, and stomach were all defined. When her eyes flicked to his, her knees closed upon itself. The look he was giving her… she swallowed hard.

He got back on the bed, on his stomach and it gave Feng Xuan the complete view of his back. She lifted herself to her elbows and put her head on her hand. She was right. It was a flower. A rose. A red rose.

"Did it hurt?" she asked in wonder. She took in the rest of the tattoo, it was a sort of scenery. There were towering pyramids and a lake. Feng Xuan realized, she was being given a view from a window where a rose was, and beside the rose there seemed to be a folded letter with an indecipherable handwriting.

"A bit," he said.

But then Feng Xuan also saw something embossed, covered in black ink. She rose up and found out there were multiple straight and clean lines. Scars. Her hands couldn't help it, she touched a long one near Qing Chen's rib, half expecting him to flinch. But he didn't. "What happened?"

"I was sliced during training."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Training?"

"My father enrolled us in self-defense classes. It took a lot of my summers."

"Why did you have to get so physical?"

"It was the only way we could really test our skills." Feng Xuan's eyes darted to Qing Chen's back, there were a few more scars on his shoulders. "We were only allowed to hit where it could be covered with a shirt."

Feng Xuan grimaced at the number of them on Qing Chen's skin, as if she could feel them on her own body. "Are there any on your chest?"

Qing Chen tilted himself to his side, showing Feng Xuan the dark pink lines on his skin.

"Oh my god," she whispered under her breath. She pulled Qing Chen back on his stomach. She cleared her throat, taking her attention away from the amount of pain Qing Chen must've taken. "What about the tattoo? What's the story to each?"

Qing Chen was only looking at the soft orange light on Feng Xuan's side of the bed, remembering the days it took to get the whole of his back inked. "I don't know," he answered.

"What do you mean you don't know? Is there not a story? Are these just random elements?"

Qing Chen's jaw tightened, unwilling to let it be known. But he had to tell his wife. "There is a story to each one. I just don't know what they are. Only my mom knew. It was her last painting."

Feng Xuan's breath hitched at her throat. "She painted this?"

"Yes, as is," he said. "So I don't know the story. She passed away before I could even ask her."

Feng Xuan laid back down on the bed, her hand still touching Qing Chen's warm back. "Why did you have it tattooed?"

Qing Chen's tongue twisted in his mouth, another lie to the already heaping pile. "Because I wanted to carry her with me."

Feng Xuan smiled at that. "That's really nice."

Qing Chen turned to his side, Feng Xuan's fingers found a scar on his left pec. She traced her hand over it, wondering what knife sliced his skin. "You have any tattoos?"

Feng Xuan smiled. "No. But I want to have one."

"What would you have?"

"I don't know yet. I think I just want one."

"Where?"

"On my shoulder, I think. Or my back. On my spine. Something like vines, or leaves, or flowers, or the moon phases."

Qing Chen smiled. "Let me know when you made up your mind."

Feng Xuan chuckled. "Not anytime soon."

Qing Chen reached for her in the short distance. "Will you come here?"

Feeling a little more closer to Qing Chen than just distance, she placed herself in the circle of his arms. "You haven't worn your shirt yet," she pounded on his bare chest.

"I had always slept like this in the past. Is it bothering you?"

"No," she said, touching her forehead to his collarbone. "You're warmer this way."

"Great. It's not like I am hiding anything else."

Feng Xuan smiled with a contented one. She raised herself and gave Qing Chen his good night kiss. This time, she let it linger for a second before pulling away. She hugged him, tracing his spine where she knew the rose was tattooed.

Qing Chen lay awake as Feng Xuan's breath grew steady. True, it was his mother's painting. It was also true that he had it tattooed because he wanted a reminder of her.

But mainly, he had it tattooed because his mother's last words to him…

…she was instructing him to burn it.