In addition, a clown-costumed figure led several older children bounding over the sofas, playing with wooden guns.
One of the ladies spotted Victor first and greeted him warmly:
"My, the Young Marshal is back."
18.
This acting General—because of the "acting" qualifier—left people unsure what to call him.
So clever minds had coined "Young Marshal."
The other two guests started to rise, but Grace pressed them down.
Grace didn't even look up, chiding: "Victor, you whisked Miss Rose away without a word. We almost didn't have enough players today."
Victor smiled: "Rose was buying you a gift."
He handed the stack of paper bags to a servant, guided me to the card table, and I greeted the three ladies.
They were Mrs. Garrett, wife of the Railway Bureau director; Mrs. Lambert, wife of the Postal director; and Mrs. Sterling, wife of the Sungate Police commissioner.
"Mrs. Garrett, Mrs. Lambert, Mrs. Sterling."
I offered polite greetings. Grace had a chair brought beside her:
"Rose, sit down, sit down. Your ankle hasn't healed yet. And buying me gifts—don't tire yourself out."
I sat beside her.
Grace had somehow started calling me "Rose" too, following Victor's lead.
So when another lady teased us, she used the same address.
It was Mrs. Garrett, who smiled at Grace: "Miss Rose is hardly tired. I hear her legs were just for show today."
"Indeed! This morning I passed by the Cathay and saw the Young Marshal carrying Miss Rose inside," Mrs. Lambert chimed in.
Victor bent down, whispering in my ear: "You're having dinner at home tonight with my sister and the three ladies. I'm going out with Adjutant Shaw for a social engagement."
I recalled Oliver mentioning the charity gala hosted by the Chase family—Chairman Chase, Luna's father. Would he encounter Luna there?
I grabbed Victor's hand, hesitated, and didn't ask aloud. I only said softly:
"Then come home early."
The four at the card table grinned mischievously:
"Envy of young lovers."
"Exactly. Not like us old married couples—all the passion is gone."
The three ladies chattered among themselves. Grace said: "Everyone knows these ladies are each the apple of their husband's eye."
"Not at all. They only ever pick faults..." Mrs. Garrett sipped her tea, but her brows radiated happiness.
"Speaking of which, wasn't it just last year that Mrs. Garrett had a baby boy? And today, looking at that belly—six months along, I'd say."
Mrs. Lambert touched Mrs. Garrett's belly with her pigeon-egg-sized ring.
Mrs. Sterling adjusted her hair, revealing a ruby bracelet on her wrist.
The ladies competed subtly.
Grace, however, seemed distracted, her gaze drifting toward the serving room.
I now noticed Oliver had returned at some point, standing face-to-face with Victor.
Victor was eating a cold sandwich with hot coffee for dinner.
Weren't they going to the charity gala?
Was there no food there?
My mind wandered, and suddenly the conversation had turned to me.
Mrs. Garrett smiled softly: "Miss Rose doesn't seem to care much for jewelry."
Grace replied gently: "Rose just came back from France. Her fashion sense is different from ours."
The three ladies let out understanding "oh"s, looking at me with softer eyes.
I'm from France? Since when...
Grace continued: "When Miss Rose arrived, her clothes had 'La Vie En Rose' printed on them. Rose's life—that must have been custom-made in Paris."
Watching her pronounce this with such certainty while focusing on her cards, I remembered that the loungewear I'd worn through time did have a French phrase on it.
I'd never noticed when I bought it—I couldn't read French anyway. But Grace, who had studied abroad, had noticed and logically woven it all together.
What a misunderstanding. I'd never even left the country.
I smiled awkwardly. They probably couldn't fathom that a cheap hoodie a hundred years in the future would be printed with random foreign phrases.
At least it was a normal phrase, not "fuck the world" or something vulgar.
The ladies immediately agreed: "Yes, yes! The French love that effortless, relaxed style—not like us, dripping in jewels from head to toe like Christmas trees."
They flattered, even at their own expense. In this era, a Chinese woman arriving from France apparently earned instant respect.
Beyond the two sets of doors, a car engine started.
Oliver and Victor had left.
I noticed the guards had doubled.
Servants bustled about setting up for dinner. The ladies played cards fiercely.
A child ran over tugging at one of the ladies: "Mama, I'm hungry!"
Hearing this, Grace, who'd been distracted, immediately set down her cards: "Alright, Auntie will tell the kitchen to serve dinner. But today, all you children have to eat on your own!"
"Yes!" The children snapped to attention, giving cute little salutes.
Over dinner, with wine flowing, the ladies grew ever more relaxed.
"We always thought Miss Grace was aloof and never socialized. Every holiday, we only dared to send gifts through intermediaries, afraid of disturbing her peace."
"That's right! If we'd known Grace was this approachable, we'd have played cards together ages ago."
Grace played along: "We should get together more often."
19.
During the meal, a phone rang for Mrs. Garrett.
She skipped lightly over to answer: "Yes, dear. Yaorzong's there too? Adjutant Shaw came to pick him up personally? He's eaten? Already coming home? Alright then."
Yaorzong was her son. He'd eaten himself into a painted face, fallen asleep clutching a piece of cake, and been carried off to a guest room by a servant.
The other ladies teased: "You say you're old married couples, but you're still just as lovey-dovey."
Mrs. Garrett, pregnant and drinking freely, cheeks flushed, complained: "He never checks on me normally. But the moment we're at the General's Estate, he calls. All for show."
I suddenly understood.
The Railway Bureau and Postal Bureau were both revenue-rich departments.
And the Sungate Police commanded significant manpower.
The families of these high officials were all under one roof at the General's Estate on the same day, personally picked up by Oliver.
So the "charity" in this charity gala had implications.
Another call came—this time for Mrs. Sterling and Mrs. Lambert, also asking about the children.
"The men are drinking, how did they suddenly remember us?"
"Must be because Director Zhang called his wife, and it reminded them all."
The ladies giggled. Mrs. Garrett, slightly tipsy, tried to leave a few times, but Grace smoothly deflected each attempt.
Grace checked the clock. A quarter to nine.
She steered the conversation: "Speaking of which, the men have it tough out there."
Mrs. Sterling agreed: "Yes, those Green Gang disturbances recently kept my old Sterling away from home for days."
Grace continued: "The Green Gang is just small trouble. Recently, up north there was fighting. Victor led troops north to keep the war zone from spreading here. He suffered so much, was injured so often—and only Miss Rose was with him the whole time. As his sister, I couldn't help at all."
The other three looked at me differently.
"Miss Rose went to a war zone?"
Ah...
Over the conversation, Grace had picked up her teacup, skimmed the foam, lowered her head, and sipped.
She wasn't naturally social—managing three talkative ladies had left her parched and exhausted.
Her actions meant it was my turn to speak.
I nodded stiffly.
The three ladies lit up, asking me to tell them about it.
So I dug deep, spinning every war movie I'd ever watched into a tale of blood and heroism about a battle I'd never seen.
The ladies set down their wine glasses, transfixed.
"Miss Rose, weren't you afraid?"
Mrs. Sterling voiced the question on everyone's mind.
I shook my head, flushing with passion: "I wasn't afraid. Wherever Victor is, that's where I need to be."
When I spoke of the six bullet wounds on his back, the knife scars crisscrossing his body, my eyes welled with tears.
When I described the warlords who borrowed from foreign powers and lived in luxury, the bandits who plundered and murdered, I rose to my feet with clenched fists.
When I talked about the opium trade, the foreign powers eating away at our nation, I stood on the chair.
I hadn't realized I had a gift for public speaking. Perhaps because most of these "lies" were actually true—even I was moved by my own words.
"Being behind means getting beaten—we accept that. But we cannot fight among ourselves! Only by uniting can our nation grow strong and stop being bullied! Only when we're strong will Shanghai become a safe harbor, where every child can go to school and every husband comes home safely!"
Even the older children playing nearby had stopped to listen. A long silence followed, then applause.
After that, many more bottles were opened. The smaller children were carried to bed by servants, and some fell asleep right on the sofa.
As the night deepened, the ladies showed no signs of leaving. Grace and I sat with them, drinking and chatting—always circling back to the safety of Sungate.
I must have drunk too much. My head spun, their voices blending into: "Funding the military is everyone's duty."
Then my hands held a ruby bracelet, a diamond ring, and a pair of jade earrings.
I rubbed my eyes, barely believing it, trying to return them. But they said: "These are military funds. Just a small token—Miss Rose, please don't think it's too little."
Ah, so these were military funds.
My muddled brain caught up: wasn't Victor out tonight for the same purpose?
Looking at the jewelry in my hands—I'd raised military funds today.
My heart swelled with emotion. How could I think it too little? This was the first time since arriving in this world that I could actually help Victor. Perhaps this bracelet would buy a rifle that could take out a few more enemies, or this diamond ring could buy rations to feed soldiers for days, and these jade earrings...
I didn't refuse again. I happily counted them like an abacus until the alcohol overwhelmed me and I collapsed onto the table, still clutching them tightly.
After an unknowable span, heavy military boots approached from behind.
Victor was back?
Before I could react, I was lifted.
A familiar scent enveloped me.
I was carried in someone's arms, step by step up the stairs, into a room, lowered into a plump pillow.
Though it was the smell of liquor and tobacco, my mind somehow associated it with something delicious.
Something with a hard shell but unexpectedly soft and sweet inside.
I wrapped my arms around the person's neck, opened my mouth to take a bite.
It became a series of delicate kisses, lingering and deep.
"Victor... you're back..."
The person beside me answered in a low voice, tucking the blanket around me.
"Go to sleep, be good."
"Don't go... you have to stay with me..."
Alcohol magnified my fear of loss. My voice trembled: "What if someone kills you in the middle of the night again, and I'm left alone here... I'm scared."
My arms only lightly looped around him, but he couldn't break free.
So he lay down beside me, still in his clothes.
Seeing he wasn't leaving, I smiled and—still in my drunken dream—remembered something. I raised both hands, offering a handful of jewelry.
"This is what I raised... military funds..."
I couldn't see Victor's expression. I only knew he carefully took each piece from my hands and placed them on the nightstand.
Then he held me again—tight, but not so tight that it hurt.
"Go to sleep. I'll watch over you."
His voice was gentle, like soothing a newborn.
I seemed to return to a place that felt safe and familiar, and sank into deep sleep.