Chapter 3 A Night At The Opera

• "Go on in," Peterson said.
• "Alright," Kathy nodded.
• Years later, on a lazy afternoon, Kathy nestled in Peterson's arms as they revisited "The Return of the Condor Heroes." At the part where The White Swan and Little Women reunited after sixteen years, Kathy mused, "What if I'd waited a few more months back then? Think we might've had a different ending?"
• Peterson set down his book and removed his glasses, gazing into Kathy's eyes. "You'd still be mine."
• "Oh, please. I don't believe that" Kathy retorted with a girlish pout that set Peterson's heart racing. After a long, passionate kiss, he said, "After all those years, when I finally found you, you weren't the same person anymore. You just didn't want to admit it, couldn't accept it..."
• But life isn't a pre-recorded movie. Can't fast-forward or rewind with a remote. Can't view everything from an audience's perspective. You can only follow time's rules. Perhaps God's already planned what'll happen and when. At each crossroads, you can only choose one path.
• "How was it? Pretty good, right?" Peterson asked as they got in the car.
• "It was excellent! Especially the squirrel-shaped sweet and sour fish and the crystal prawn. We must bring Grace here next time so she can try it and maybe learn the recipes," Kathy gushed.
• Peterson glanced at Kathy, amused by how her eyes crinkled with childlike glee whenever she talked about food. He remembered a friend once saying women who love to eat are easily satisfied and generally cheerful.
• They arrived at the theater at 7:30 and entered at 7:40. Tonight's "The Peony Pavilion" will last over two hours. Despite having seen it before, Kathy still adored it. She snuck a glance at Peterson beside her. Even in the VIP seats, many women were eyeing him admiringly and her enviously.
• Few men attended, mostly middle-aged or elderly enthusiasts and scholars. The young men accompanying their girlfriends looked bored. In today's superficial society, most chase trends. While some men might attend Western operas, plays, or ballets, few would willingly come to a classical opera. If Chris had been asked to accompany her to an opera or concert, he might've agreed, but never to a classical opera performance. Yet Peterson watched attentively, piquing Kathy's curiosity.
• Classical opera, created by ancient scholars and literati, had long been favored by high society. Its refined, gentle, and slow singing style carried the soft charm of the European region. The actors' every expression drew the audience into the story. Even after multiple viewings, Kathy found herself captivated by Peterson's vivacity and charm, unable to hold back her laughter.
• The two and a half hours flew by. As they neared the parking lot, a familiar voice called out, "Mr. Blackwood!"
• "Chairperson Sky," Peterson turned to greet the newcomer.
• "Thought I recognized you from afar. Didn't expect to see you here. And who might this be?" Chairperson Sky asked, eyeing Kathy.
• Kathy suddenly felt awkward, unsure how to respond.
• "Allow me to introduce you," Peterson said smoothly, taking Kathy's hand. "This is my fiancée, Kathy. Kathy, this is Chairperson Sky of SH Real Estate."
• Kathy was momentarily surprised but quickly recovered, offering a gracious smile. "Pleasure to meet you, Chairperson Sky."
• "The pleasure's mine, Miss Harper. You're quite the catch. You and Mr. Blackwood makes a fine pair," Chairperson Sky said, lightly shaking Kathy's hand. He thought to himself, "So the rumors about Blackwood avoiding women were false. But is this fiancée genuine? She's beautiful, but if her background doesn't match up, the Blackwood family wouldn't let a woman without status into their fold. Beauty and talent alone would make her nothing more than a plaything."
• "You're too kind," Kathy replied, detecting the underlying meaning in Chairperson Sky's words and glance. She simply smiled, saying nothing more.
• "I hear Mr. Blackwood Senior is living in the United Kingdom now. Please give him my regards. I'd like to pay him a visit when I have the chance," Chairperson Sky said, turning back to Peterson.
• "I'll be sure to pass that along," Peterson nodded.
• "Well then, Mr. Blackwood, Miss Harper, I'll be on my way," Chairperson Sky said.
• "Take care," Peterson replied. "It's cold out. Let me drive your home," he said to Kathy.
• "Alright," she agreed.
• Back at Aut, there was a car parked downstairs. Kathy frowned slightly, which Peterson noticed. "Goodnight. Be careful on your way up," Kathy said as she got out of the car.
• "Goodnight. Pack your things tomorrow. Someone will come by in the afternoon to help you move," Peterson told her.
• "Okay," Kathy nodded and left the car.
• He'd wanted to accompany Kathy inside, but that might've seemed too eager and could backfire. Besides, there were some things she needed to handle on her own, where others couldn't interfere.
• Kathy approached the parked car, and its occupant got out.
• "Why are you here?" Kathy asked.
• "Dad asked me to bring you the household registry," Harper Haochu said, glancing at the Spyker still idling nearby.
• "Oh, thanks," Kathy replied coldly, taking the document.
• "I'll be going now."
• "Mm," Kathy turned and went upstairs without another word.
• After removing her makeup and showering, Kathy collapsed onto her bed. She glanced at the household registry, then stared at the ceiling. Suddenly, tears began to flow without warning. " One could call her a person of true passion. Passion knows not its origin yet runs deep. The living can die, and the dead can live again. Those who live but cannot die, or die but cannot live again, have not known the depths of passion." But life is not a play, and even the deepest emotions cannot overcome reality.
• Kathy woke early to pack. Though only needing essentials, her clothes, shoes, bags, and skincare filled two large suitcases. She left some things behind, keeping a backup plan in case this impulsive decision flopped.
• Rummaging through her closet, she found a box of mementos. Sitting on the floor, she looked through old photos and keepsakes, suddenly overwhelmed. She hastily shoved everything back.
• Her phone buzzed, displaying an unknown number. After ignoring the first call, it kept ringing. Thinking it might be a student, she answered.
• "Miss Harper?" a voice asked. "Wute here, Mr. Blackwood's assistant. He asked me to help you move as he's meeting a client today. I'm at your complex. Could you let security know I can come up?"
• "Sure," Kathy replied. "Building 15, Unit B. I'll come down when you arrive."
• After alerting security, Kathy finished packing and headed downstairs.
• "Miss Harper, hello," Wute greeted with a broad smile.
• "Hi, come in," Kathy said, opening the door. "Sorry, no men's slippers. Drink? Fresh juice?"
• "Anything's fine," Wute answered politely.
• As Kathy went to the kitchen, Wute took in her apartment. Small but perfect for a single woman, stylish yet simple. A painting caught his eye - an early work by Moon, the famous Chinese French artist. He recalled her renowned "Swan" piece, withdrawn from sale at a high price.
• "Here you go," Kathy said, handing him a glass. "Homemade juice."
• "Thanks," Wute replied, gesturing to the painting. "Moon original?"
• Kathy nodded. "Good eyes."
• "One of the Moon's most famous works," Wute explained. "Astronomical price before she withdrew it, saying it was for her best friend."
• "Right," Kathy smiled, remembering Moon's gift. A graceful swan on a mirror-like lake, with a subtle crowned woman in the background.
• "Ready in a moment," Kathy said, heading back to finish packing.
• "Take your time," Wute assured her.
• Kathy emerged with two suitcases, surprising Wute. "All?"
• "Rest on Tuesday with movers," she explained. "Winter clothes can wait."
• "Not staying at Mr. Blackwood's tonight?" Wute inquired, puzzled.
• "Not married yet," Kathy replied matter-of-factly. "No rush."
• Wute said nothing, inwardly questioning his boss's charm. Winning this woman's heart wouldn't be easy.
• After settling at Peterson's, Kathy returned to her apartment. Five years of memories. Everything is carefully chosen and decorated by her. Moving meant losing that freedom.
• With a day and a half left, Kathy hired help to pack her remaining belongings, including the painting and prized collection. Fridge to empty, furniture to cover. Tedious.
• That evening, Kathy cooked a large meal and opened wine from Jess. Dining alone, she felt melancholy. She'd learned to cook for him yet eaten solo for seven years. All this time, she realized, she'd been punishing not just others, but herself too.