Chapter Fourteen: The Artificial Beauty

When these words came from Ding Mulan’s mouth, no one in their right mind would be foolish enough to ask which half was male and which half was female.

“Lumin has been out of touch for so long. Has your family never thought to try and contact him, to find out where he is or how he’s doing?” An Changpu asked.

“He’s always running off. We used to look for him, but he’d get angry and come home in a temper. After a while, everyone stopped wanting to upset him, so we just let him be.” Ding Mulan answered, her tone numb. “The longest he was gone before was half a year with no news. He came back just fine. It’s only been two or three months this time—not worth looking.”

Qin Ruonan listened quietly, her face betraying little, but her eyes were full of sympathy. After Ding Mulan finished speaking, she let out a soft sigh. An Changpu caught the fleeting sadness on her face, and a vague suspicion began to form in his mind.

“Could we see a photo of Lumin?” Qin Ruonan requested.

Ding Mulan nodded meekly, asking them to wait while she went to fetch a photograph from another room. But Qin Ruonan did not remain seated. She quietly got up and followed Ding Mulan, beckoning An Changpu to join her with a subtle gesture.

An Changpu hesitated, worrying this might be inappropriate. After all, they could not yet confirm the deceased was indeed Lumin, and his family had given them no reason for suspicion. If Ding Mulan had asked them to wait, it meant she didn’t want their privacy invaded. Qin Ruonan’s insistence on following might well anger the family.

But Qin Ruonan had already gone after Ding Mulan, and it was too late to stop her. If he stayed behind, fearing trouble, he’d be leaving her to shoulder any consequences alone. That was not something An Changpu could do. He was, after all, the “gentleman detective” of the Major Crimes Unit, half-jokingly acclaimed by his colleagues for his chivalry.

Resolving himself, he quickly rose and, with his long strides, caught up to Qin Ruonan. Together, they followed Ding Mulan into a small room at the far end of the hallway.

Though much smaller than the living room where they’d been seated, the room revealed a very different scene upon entering. In stark contrast to the house’s general air of age and neglect, this space had clearly been decorated with care, as if it belonged to another world entirely.

Unlike the peeling green paint and bare white plaster of the other walls, this room was papered with soft-colored wallpaper—its base a blush of pink and white, adorned with clusters and single blooms of pink roses scattered irregularly. The harsh square layout was softened by a distinctly feminine touch. A single bed was covered in pink satin linens; beside it stood a small square table draped with a lace-edged cloth, cluttered with various cosmetics.

Even the cord dangling from the ceiling lamp had been wound with plastic flowers, ending in a red filigree lampshade. The entire room, with its decor and trinkets—much like the inexpensive makeup boxes scattered on the table—was not of the highest taste or quality, but exuded a palpable femininity. The window sill was crowded with a collection of costume jewelry and accessories, none valuable but all plentiful.

“Is this your daughter’s room from before she was married?” Qin Ruonan ventured. From Lu Anju’s words earlier, she’d gathered the daughter was now married. Seeing this unmistakably feminine room and the thick dust on the vanity and window sill, she took an educated guess.

Ding Mulan was startled by the sudden question behind her, pausing in her search through the wardrobe. Turning, she saw Qin Ruonan and An Changpu standing at the door, her cheeks flushing red once more.

She didn’t answer, but turned back and resumed searching the wardrobe. Soon, she retrieved a photo album. Before closing the wardrobe, Qin Ruonan’s sharp eyes caught a glimpse of rows of women’s clothing—mostly in bright colors—packed inside.

“This is my husband Lumin’s room. Please, let’s go back to the sitting room. He doesn’t like strangers coming in here.” Ding Mulan’s voice was flat as she addressed them. “I’ve found the photos. Let’s look at them there.”

Leaning against the doorframe, Qin Ruonan said, “But Lumin hasn’t been home for two or three months. If we just look around—touch nothing—he’ll never know.”

Ding Mulan glanced once more toward the kitchen, shook her head, and said quietly, “My eldest daughter is close to her father. She’ll tell him.”

An Changpu tugged gently at Qin Ruonan’s elbow, suggesting she let the matter rest. Qin Ruonan fell silent, and they returned with Ding Mulan to the living room.

Instead of handing them the colorful album immediately, Ding Mulan rummaged through a cluttered glass cabinet and eventually produced an old color photograph, which she passed to them.

“This one’s from a long time ago. It’s the best I have,” she said, then handed over the album as well. “These are from last year.”

Qin Ruonan took the old photo: a family portrait of four, two adults and two children. The woman was clearly Ding Mulan—much younger, her face less lined, her eyes less timid, holding her two daughters with an air of contentment and happiness. Beside her stood Lumin. For a man, he wasn’t particularly tall—perhaps just over one seventy, judging by Ding Mulan’s height. He appeared slender, especially his face, which was somewhat long and thin. His eyes were narrow, lips thin, his features more refined than his wife’s, but his build lacked the strength typical of men, giving little sense of physical power.

Qin Ruonan passed the photo to An Changpu and opened the album. The first image made her frown slightly.

It was the same narrow face, now fuller, the same small mouth, but the once thin lips were now plump and rosy. Even the originally narrow eyes had become exaggerated double-lidded eyes, accentuated by heavy makeup. If not for a few lingering traces of the former visage, it would be hard to believe these two photos depicted the same person.

It was a set of studio portraits. The subject’s skin was fair, eyes alluring, figure slender. The dress hugged a full, curvaceous chest—an undeniably striking beauty.

A real-life artificial beauty, Qin Ruonan thought secretly—not just made beautiful, but made female as well.