Every city has various channels. Obvious channels, such as streets, sewers, rivers, and lakes. Deep channels, such as blood vessels and meridians hidden beneath the skin, or social pathways behind the glamour.
They are interconnected and a blockage can have different consequences. At best, it leads to flooding; at worst, to a reversal of blood flow. When the news that Su Ziceng was seeking a matchmaker spread, it was as if an atomic bomb had been dropped over Mo City. A mushroom cloud of public opinion burst forth, exploding from people’s throats.
The first to know the news are often the most perplexed. Take Fei Qing, for instance. It was perfectly normal for Fei Qing to receive the news, as he was one of the four newly wealthy, an only son, and decent looking. Who was Su Ziceng? She was Hang Yishao’s childhood betrothed, and her seeking a match meant she and Hang Yishao were over. But clearly, some people haven’t got their heads around it yet. They always assume that human hearts are the most immutable of substances.
"Who is Su Ziceng? She’s Yishao’s woman, Dad, are you kidding me? Me having a match with her? That’s as likely as the United States selling nuclear weapons to Iran. Impossible," Fei Qing ranted to his father on the phone.
After hanging up, he raised two fingers as if taking an oath: "Yishao, you can rest assured, I would marry a sow before I married Su Ziceng." Fei Qing then realized he misspoke and quickly corrected, "I’m not saying Su Ziceng is worse than a sow, it’s just a figure of speech. I wouldn’t marry such a shrew. Only you could put up with her temper."
"That’s not right either. You’ve endured her torment for over a decade, and now you can finally take a breather. It’s surprising how many people have responded. I didn’t realize Mo City had so many eligible bachelors." The more Fei Qing talked, the worse he sounded. Hang Yishao grunted and lit another cigarette, not offering any opinion. Su Ziceng, in this moment, was likely causing another temper tantrum.
Of course, even Chang Mei thought Su Ziceng was just being capricious. The only person thoroughly delighted by this matchmaking affair was Chang Chi. Her brain, muddled by Hang Yishao, was getting less and less clear. All she knew was that once Su Ziceng was married off, her own wedding with Hang Yishao was as sure as nailed down.
After Su Ziceng set her matchmaking conditions, Chang Mei still thought she was joking. Su Ziceng was nineteen this year, yet she listed her matchmaking age range from twenty-three to thirty-six. To outsiders, it seemed as if she was desperate to marry, starting from the age of eligible bachelors, but the range seemed excessively broad. As for the other requirements, they were summarily addressed with the vague terms "good-looking" and "clean family background."
"Damn," said Fei Qing sarcastically after getting the scoop, "By our standards, age alone is a deal-breaker." There’s a difference between not seeking a match and not qualifying for one. At twenty-three, Su Ziceng really seemed to have gone mad with her desire to marry. Hang Yishao continued to smoke, his cigarette consumption having recently increased.
Strike while the iron is hot; spring is the best time for matchmaking and making friends. Su Ziceng soon began her serial matchmaking lifestyle.
The so-called ’handsome features’ were twisted by gossip, morphing into ’all five facial features intact,’ and as for the ’clean background,’ that term was loaded with countless interpretations. Luckily, Su Ziceng’s family was well-to-do, so even the most mismatched of suitors came with gilt edges and diamond inlays.
The first matchmaking suitor, twenty-eight years old, was an overseas returnee who owned an advertising company, reputed to be humorous and dignified. Perhaps from spending too much time overseas, or for some other reason, during a meal of Kobe beef steaks, eighty percent of what Su Ziceng heard was not in her native language. With a bottle of wine, he preferred explaining things in French or Spanish.
When the steak arrived, he liked to explain the cattle rearing process in Japanese.
Midway through the meal, Su Ziceng’s phone rang, and then she said her first complete sentence from start to finish: "Sorry, but my friend needs me for an emergency." With that, she grabbed her awkwardly fitting wrap dress and fled as fast as she could.
There’s no need to say it, but the first candidate was a mismatch. The reason for disqualification was a failure in communication; in China, speaking ’Mandarin’ is encouraged.
The second, the third, Su Ziceng unfortunately hit a streak of bad luck, each time making her escape during Yan Wuxu’s "timely calls."