Chapter Forty-Seven: The Screenwriter Girl

April looked at Qiu Fengyu with a trace of embarrassment. Her overreaction had led directly to Qiu Fengyu leaping in through the back window, tossing her into the bathtub, and dousing her with cold water for quite some time. That embarrassment quickly morphed into a storm of indignation, and she burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably.

But her tears didn’t soften Qiu Fengyu in the least. He was utterly devoid of any sentimentality. After leaving April, soaked from head to toe, in the bathroom, he went to the living room, brewed himself a cup of coffee, and sat down to watch television, calm and unruffled.

Seething with humiliation and anger, April changed her clothes and stormed into the living room. The sight of Qiu Fengyu’s leisurely posture made her so furious she nearly lost control. She snatched up the remote and switched off the television, then stood in front of him, hands on her hips.

Qiu Fengyu ignored her completely, picked up a book, and moved onto the balcony. Leaning against the railing, he squinted and began to read.

April felt thoroughly slighted. She marched out to the balcony, still with her hands on her hips, and fixed Qiu Fengyu with a glare.

“You’re a tyrant,” she spat, her anger pouring out. “A damn tyrant.”

Qiu Fengyu merely shrugged, looking at her with unruffled calm.

April continued to glare at him, her indignation burning. One was as placid as a lake, the other as stormy as the sea. After a long, tense silence, April suddenly burst into laughter.

“It’s such a strange feeling!” she exclaimed. She pulled out a chair and sat down opposite Qiu Fengyu.

“You need to understand our situation,” Qiu Fengyu said, closing his book. “I don’t want any misunderstandings. Tomorrow, you’ll come with me to buy surveillance cameras and alarm systems.” With that, he walked toward his room.

“I’m surprised you actually read books. It must be fascinating,” April remarked, noticing the book in his hand.

“The Old Man and the Sea—a story about a fish and an old man.”

Early the next morning, when Qiu Fengyu went out for his run, the family from before had already vanished, as had the young couple. After his run, he had breakfast, then went with April to San Diego to shop for equipment. They both wore hats; Qiu Fengyu looked like a Native American, while April resembled a rebellious teenager.

Such outfits blended into the crowd effortlessly. In America, there were too many men and women dressed this way for anyone to pay them any mind. Buying the equipment was straightforward—they headed straight for the store and made their purchases.

They spent over twenty thousand dollars, all paid in cash, refusing the store’s installation services.

“You’ll have to pay me back for this someday,” Qiu Fengyu said solemnly to April as he settled the bill.

April grinned at him.

After shopping, Qiu Fengyu was ready to return home.

“Let’s stay a little longer—see a movie. It’s been so long since I’ve done something like that!” April pleaded, her eyes full of hope. Since she’d begun hiding her identity, she hadn’t enjoyed any of the pleasures of her old life. Now, in a city as vibrant as San Diego, she couldn’t resist the urge.

“A movie, then a drink at a bar, some wild dancing, and finally, sampling some late-night delicacy—a perfect day, right?” Qiu Fengyu looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes… well, alright, just a movie.” April glanced at Qiu Fengyu, finally a bit sheepish, and lowered her voice.

Qiu Fengyu finally nodded. “Just one.”

“Oh God, you’re the best!” April threw her arms around his neck. “Love you to death!” She planted a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek.

Qiu Fengyu wiped his face with a look of distaste. They drove to the cinema, parked, and bought popcorn and sodas.

American cinemas had vending machines selling drinks and all kinds of candy. You could even get fresh-baked pizza at the counter. Tickets were sold by machine too—thirteen dollars and sixty cents each, plus a dollar in taxes.

Qiu Fengyu didn’t pay attention to what movie was playing. His eyes roamed like searchlights, scanning for any hint of danger. At the first sign of trouble, he’d have whisked April away without hesitation.

The film wasn’t funny at all, but April laughed as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She drained her soda, then, seeing Qiu Fengyu had barely touched his, snatched his cup without a word.

A noisy slurp followed.

“Aren’t you embarrassed?” Qiu Fengyu glanced at her.

April realized she’d made a scene. The slurping had caused someone in front to turn and look. Seeing she was just a girl, they said nothing.

“You’ll get us into trouble.”

“I already have enough trouble,” April retorted, rolling her eyes, and went back to watching the movie.

When the film ended, April headed straight to the parking lot, climbed into the passenger seat, and fell silent. Qiu Fengyu got in, started the car, and drove back the way they had come.

April said nothing on the drive. Qiu Fengyu didn’t bother to speak either. She was so young—too emotional, really. But considering the pressure she was under, it was a miracle she hadn’t broken down entirely. Still, that was none of his concern, as long as she didn’t cause him trouble.

Back at the house, April got out of the car and went straight to her room without a word. Qiu Fengyu began installing the surveillance cameras and alarm system on his own. It was technical work, but fortunately he had experience—back in Ukraine, he’d handled security for high-profile clients.

He worked until dusk, finally finishing the setup. The monitor was in Qiu Fengyu’s room, and the alarm would flash and beep if triggered. The installation was skillful—well-placed and well-hidden.

He’d even set up infrared sensors.

For dinner, Qiu Fengyu cooked a dry pot of flounder, which turned out delicious. April ate more than half, needing comfort food to soothe her nerves.

After dinner, April did the dishes, then sat on the balcony across from Qiu Fengyu. She watched him in silence for a long time, unable to resist speaking as she saw him lift his binoculars to scan the beach.

“Aren’t you curious about why I’m like this?”

“I know you’ll tell me if you want to,” Qiu Fengyu replied, still watching the beach, where two figures—likely the couple from the previous day—walked. They showed no intention of approaching the house, so Qiu Fengyu did nothing.

April thought him insufferably aloof, but after a deep breath, she swallowed her pride and spoke, her voice tinged with melancholy. “Do you know why I wanted to see that movie today? Because… the woman who starred in it is my best friend.”

Qiu Fengyu paused, setting down his binoculars. “You’re an actress?”

“No, but she’s my best friend—the very best kind. I haven’t seen her in ages. God, it’s all fate, so… that’s why I was so emotional today.”

“What did you do before?”

“I was a screenwriter. Always have been,” April sighed. “That film was my work. I never expected… well, I was the one who encouraged her to audition…”

Qiu Fengyu said nothing and walked into the living room. April remained on the balcony, disappointed and unmoving. She needed comfort; she’d borne more than any young woman should.

After a while, a glass of red wine appeared before her, swirling gently as if inviting her to take it. April looked up at Qiu Fengyu, who loomed over her.

“To your work,” Qiu Fengyu said, raising his glass.

“Aha—You… Well, fine. To Miranda Sanchez!” April couldn’t help but laugh. Their glasses clinked, and they drank in unison.

“And another, to bidding farewell to that damned entertainment industry,” April said, standing to fetch more wine.

“No, you haven’t left it behind. You’re a screenwriter,” Qiu Fengyu replied with a smile. “There’ll always be another script waiting for you. You’ll make a great screenwriter—I believe in you.”

April sniffled, wanting to laugh, but tears came instead. She leaned her head against Qiu Fengyu’s shoulder, her tears soaking the fabric.

“This shirt is expensive, you know,” Qiu Fengyu said, spreading his hands in mock resignation.

“Don’t try to make me laugh,” April murmured, unmoving, but gave him a few gentle punches with her little fists.

“I mean it, kid. The others… aren’t washed yet, this is the only one left…” Qiu Fengyu replied, wincing a little.