Peizhi’s smile remained, a delicate, almost imperceptible curve on her lips, as the man in uniform pronounced her former name. The crowd, hushed just moments before, began to mutter, a low rumble rippling across the courtyard. She felt Gongze’s hand, large and firm, subtly brush against her back, a silent anchor. Her gaze drifted from the official to the rough, oil-stained jacket on her shoulders, then back to his stern face. The crisp uniform, made of a fabric she recognized as superior government issue, spoke of authority, not merely clerical work. This was no minor functionary. This was a man with teeth. “Lu Peizhi?” the state agent repeated, his voice sharper now, a note of impatience seeping in. His eyes, magnified behind thick lenses, finally landed on her. Before Peizhi could offer a practiced, lazy shrug, Gongze stepped forward, casting a broad shadow over the official. His presence alone was enough to make the dockworkers fall silent once more. “My wife’s name is Wen Peizhi,” he stated, his voice a low rumble, devoid of any warmth. “She bears my family name now. That paper you hold is outdated.” The man's gaze flickered to Gongze, then back to Peizhi, doubtful. He seemed to take in the expensive silk dress beneath Gongze’s rough jacket, the delicate curve of her neck, the placid calm on her face. Then, his eyes fell upon the discarded contract that Gongze had so violently crumpled. He pursed his lips, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. “Wen Peizhi,” he mused, a slow nod. “I see. The former Lu family debt remains, however. And the guarantor, as listed on the original certificate… is the individual who currently holds the legal identity of Lu Peizhi.” He paused, letting his words hang in the heavy air. “We will, of course, need to verify this through proper legal channels. Expect a visit soon, Mrs. Wen.” With that, he tucked the document back into his satchel, gave Peizhi one last scrutinizing look, and turned to navigate his way through the stunned crowd, leaving behind a charged silence. Gongze’s hand found the small of Peizhi’s back again, a subtle, possessive gesture. The heavy cloth of his jacket, alongside his steady gaze, brought a soothing warmth. She leaned into his touch for a moment, then, with a soft sigh that seemed to carry all the exhaustion of a long day she hadn’t actually experienced, she turned towards their home. The market’s clamor, the stares, the official's grave pronouncement—all seemed to dissolve behind her as she anticipated the cool darkness of their room and the plush velvet couch. Back in the cool, dim quiet of their quarters, Peizhi had already drifted into the deep, restorative sleep she cherished. The afternoon sun, filtering through the clean curtains Madam Rong had insisted on, cast stripes of warm light across the worn floorboards, but none reached Peizhi’s form, nestled deep in the cushions. Her breathing was even, a slow tide in the quiet room. Madam Rong, however, was wide awake and bustling. She paced the small living area, a cheap, crackling telephone receiver pressed to her ear. Her voice, usually so clipped and precise, was now a breathless, conspiratorial hiss. “Madam Baoxia, it’s dire, truly dire! The bureau officer, he was… terrifying! He spoke of unspeakable debts, of seizure! Our poor Madam Wen, she nearly fainted, I swear! She’s locked herself in her room, weeping. And Foreman Gongze, he looked quite ill. Penniless, I’d wager. They’ll be beggars by morning, I promise you!” She paused, listening to the frantic, triumphant squawk from the other end. “Yes, yes, I’ll keep you informed. She hasn’t eaten a bite. Crying like a banshee, she is.” Madam Rong ended the call with a smirk that quickly vanished as she smoothed her apron, her double agent act perfected. She glanced at the sleeping Peizhi, a soft, indulgent smile gracing her lips. “More sugar plums for my poor, weeping madam, I suppose,” she muttered, heading to the small kitchen. Precisely an hour later, a sharp, insistent rap echoed through the quiet rooms. Peizhi stirred, a soft groan escaping her. Madam Rong, startled, nearly dropped the teapot. It was the debt collector on their doorstep, his stern face framed by the grimy doorframe, brandishing a summons. “Mrs. Wen Peizhi?” he asked, his voice formal and unyielding. “I’m here to serve notice regarding the Lu family estate’s outstanding liabilities.” Peizhi, now fully awake but still luxuriously stretched out on the couch, gestured languidly towards the small, spotless table. “Madam Rong, darling, could you please offer our guest some of that delightful Wuyishan tea Gongze procured for us? The one with the faint scent of charcoal and orchids.” Her voice was sweet, unhurried, wholly devoid of fear. She pushed herself to a sitting position, her silk robe shimmering. “And a plate of those sesame crisps, if you please.” Madam Rong, after a moment of stunned hesitation, poured the tea, the rich aroma filling the room. The inspector, clearly thrown off by the unexpected hospitality, took the delicate porcelain cup, his stiff features softening as he inhaled the expensive steam. Peizhi watched him with an amused glint in her eyes. “So, the Lu family’s troubles,” she began, her tone conversational, as if discussing the weather. “A truly unfortunate inheritance. My cousin, Baoxia, has always been so ambitious, so eager to claim what she believed was hers.” She smiled. “Thankfully, the paperwork proved quite clear on the matter of the swap.” She reached beneath a velvet cushion behind her back, her hand emerging with a sheaf of papers tied neatly with a silk ribbon. ““These are the notarized records, the formal affidavits confirming the exchange of names. Everything you need to confirm that the former Lu Peizhi, now legally Baoxia, is the rightful heir to… everything.” She offered the certificates to the collector with a languid tilt of her wrist, her smile serene and bright. “All in order, I believe. The original Lu Peizhi, your guarantor, is now my cousin. And she is, I assure you, quite eager to settle all outstanding matters.” The inspector took the bundle, his movements slow, as if in a daze. He flipped through them, his eyes scanning the official stamps, the notary seals. His brow furrowed, then smoothed out into an expression of dawning comprehension, mixed with something akin to exasperation. He looked up at Peizhi, who was now reclining once more, a contented sigh escaping her lips. The premium tea, the lack of panic, the perfectly organized documents – it was all so brazenly efficient in its laziness. Just as the collector opened his mouth, the front door burst open. Gongze stood framed in the doorway, his silhouette dark against the setting sun. He was home early. His eyes, sharp and intense, immediately fixed on the unfamiliar man in their living room. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a sound like grinding stone. Without a word, he crossed the room in two swift strides, his powerful frame radiating menace. Before the visitor could react, Gongze lunged, grasping the front of the man’s uniform. He shoved him against the soot-stained wall, pinning him flat with a snarl. The collector let out a choked gasp, the pages fluttering to the floor. “Gongze,” Peizhi murmured, her voice a soft, sleepy hum. She barely opened her eyes, simply patted the empty space on the velvet chaise beside her. “Come here, darling. You’re home early.” The effect was instantaneous. It was as if a switch had been flicked. The wild fury in Gongze’s eyes softened, the tension in his shoulders melted. He released the gasping auditor, who slid weakly down the wall, clutching his chest. Gongze turned, his movements fluid, and sat beside Peizhi, gently pulling her closer. He rested his chin on her head, inhaling the scent of her hair, his presence a warm, protective weight. The room, which had been charged with violence moments before, settled into a domestic calm, leaving the man to stare, stunned and bewildered, from the floor. “Mr. Wen… Mrs. Wen…” the bureaucrat finally managed, pushing himself up, his voice hoarse. He retrieved his scattered papers, his hands trembling slightly. “This changes things. The… the original Lu Peizhi… Baoxia… she just filed an emergency legal motion. To void the name exchange. The massive debt… it will revert to you, Mrs. Wen, in exactly forty-eight hours.”

The Double Agent's Tea