Chen Qingwu’s belongings were gradually moved to Meng Fuyuan’s apartment.
At first, it was just changes of clothes and toiletries, then slowly expanded to include electronic devices, cosmetics, luggage accessories, and jewelry… At the studio, only the basic necessities needed for occasional overnight stays were kept.
Zhao Yingfei hadn’t expected that after just one New Year, she would lose the chance to share a bed with her best friend. While denouncing her for “prioritizing romance over friendship,” she still demanded that Chen Qingwu fill her in on the whole story.
After hearing everything, Zhao Yingfei gave a thumbs up. “Very brave, worthy of being my sister.”
“Actually, I feel somewhat guilty, because Meng Fuyuan’s parents have been really good to me. Given the current situation, they’ll probably find it hard to forgive him. Meng Fuyuan has basically already lost this family.”
“So what. My parents nag me every day to get married, to go back home and take the civil service exam, constantly scolding me about how getting a PhD doesn’t matter in the end—I’ll still have to find a man to marry. And they say that pursuing my doctorate is just wasting my prime youth, and by the time I’m done, I’ll be an old maid worthless in the marriage market.” Zhao Yingfei shrugged, recounting these words without any emotional fluctuation. “When parents say these things, they never worry about whether the child is hurt, yet the child always worries unnecessarily about whether they’re hurt.”
Chen Qingwu nodded, deeply agreeing.
Zhao Yingfei continued: “Although I’ve always felt that healthy intimate relationships, like good men, only exist in legends, you’ve visibly become more cheerful in the past half year with Meng Fuyuan. You’re so excellent, yet during those years of liking Meng Qiran, you felt nothing but inferiority. I couldn’t even be bothered to worry about you.”
Chen Qingwu smiled, acknowledging that sometimes observers see more clearly.
She felt that the biggest change in being with Meng Fuyuan was becoming braver and more able to face herself honestly, thereby discerning her true needs and desires.
In this world, there are very few things that allow you to have it all. She could only ensure she didn’t shortchange herself.
In these days after returning to work, Chen Qingwu was busy until late every day.
It had started raining that afternoon, continuing on and off into the evening.
The weather that had just warmed up was beaten back to its original state by this rain.
Chen Qingwu sat at her work table trimming a piece, occasionally straightening her body to rub her stiff shoulders and neck.
After finishing the vase in her hands and placing it on the display shelf, she checked the time—it was already nine-thirty in the evening.
Meng Fuyuan had been working serious overtime lately and always came home very late, but he would arrange for the driver to pick her up in advance.
Chen Qingwu felt a bit embarrassed to keep troubling the driver, so as long as it wasn’t too late, she insisted on driving herself.
Having finished most of her work for the day, Chen Qingwu turned off the water and electricity, grabbed her backpack and umbrella, and headed for the door.
Just as she was locking up, she suddenly heard cursing voices from behind.
She immediately turned around to look.
Two men, completely soaked, drunk and swaying, staggering in their steps—one even carrying a liquor bottle.
The two paused, seemingly having spotted her, then walked toward her with arms around each other’s shoulders.
“This your place?” one of the men slurred. “Open the door, let me in to get out of the rain.”
Chen Qingwu frowned. “Sorry, I’m about to leave. You should find another place.”
The man cursed and stepped up, trying to snatch the keys from her hand.
Chen Qingwu knew this wasn’t the time to be stubborn, so she let go and gave him the keys.
Just as she was about to leave, the man suddenly reached out and grabbed her arm.
Drunk people have surprising strength. Chen Qingwu tried to pull away but couldn’t break free.
She took a deep breath, suppressing her panic. Her other hand reached into her pocket, found her car keys, and pressed the car finder button.
Not far away, car lights flashed on, and a piercing alarm sounded.
The man froze. Chen Qingwu seized the opportunity to break free and quickly descended the steps.
Panicked, she stumbled on the last step and nearly fell. Her palm pressed against the steps for support, and when she stood up, her ankle hurt slightly—she might have twisted it. But she couldn’t worry about that now and just limped quickly toward the parking area.
When she reached her car door, the two drunks caught up. One of them grabbed her arm just as she was about to open the door.
Just then, she heard a cry of alarm from behind.
Chen Qingwu turned to see the drunk with the bottle being grabbed by the collar and pressed against the car.
The newcomer wore a black windbreaker, his expression stern—it was Meng Qiran.
Meng Qiran threw a punch at the drunk’s abdomen, immediately eliciting agonized howls.
The one holding Chen Qingwu immediately let go to help, but Meng Qiran grabbed his neck and pushed him outward, pressing him directly to the ground.
Chen Qingwu trembled as she fumbled for her phone in her bag and dialed the police.
While communicating with the station, the drunk who had just been punched in the abdomen picked up the bottle and smashed it on Meng Qiran’s head.
Chen Qingwu cried out in alarm.
Meng Qiran’s body swayed. A moment later, he released his grip, his hand falling to touch a piece of broken glass. Standing up, he advanced on the drunk who had hit him with the bottle.
The drunk stepped back until his back was against the car, staring at the gleaming glass shard, shaking with fear.
Seeing the drunk on the ground about to stand up, Chen Qingwu worried that Meng Qiran would be attacked from both sides again. Without thinking, she kicked the drunk between the legs.
A pig-like squeal of agony rang out.
Meng Qiran: “…”
He thought he was ruthless enough, but Chen Qingwu was even more ruthless.
Chen Qingwu was anxiously wondering when the police would arrive. Gripping her phone, she stood on tiptoe, looking toward the entrance of the complex.
In less than a minute, she saw two beams of headlights breaking through the darkness in the rain.
She immediately waved and shouted, “Police!! Over here!!”
The headlights approached and stopped behind her pickup truck.
Chen Qingwu squinted and realized she recognized the car, but it wasn’t a police car.
The car door opened, and Meng Fuyuan stepped out.
Chen Qingwu called out his name loudly.
Meng Fuyuan glanced over, startled, then immediately hurried over in a few quick strides.
One person lay on the ground, clutching his crotch; another was backed against the car, a glass shard at his throat, trembling with fear.
And Meng Qiran had blood streaming from his head, running down his forehead in the rain—a frightening sight.
Meng Fuyuan generally understood the situation. He pulled Chen Qingwu over, retrieved an umbrella from his car’s trunk, opened it, and handed it to her. Hearing that she had already called the police, he told her to wait for the police car further back.
Then he took a clean wool scarf from the back seat and pressed it to Meng Qiran’s head.
Meng Qiran tried to pull away awkwardly. “I can do it myself…”
“Don’t move!”
Meng Qiran stopped moving.
Meng Fuyuan located the bleeding point and pressed the scarf firmly against it before telling Meng Qiran, “Hold it yourself.”
Meng Qiran obediently raised his hand, but his other hand still tightly gripped the glass shard.
For some reason, seeing Meng Fuyuan arrive, he immediately felt relieved, no longer worried that he couldn’t protect Chen Qingwu.
Soon, the police car arrived.
Chen Qingwu opened the studio door. After everyone went inside, the officers briefly questioned them, first taking the two drunks away, while a colleague took Meng Qiran to the hospital for treatment and to determine his injuries, after which they would go to the station to give statements.
As they walked toward the door, Meng Fuyuan and Meng Qiran noticed that Chen Qingwu was walking with an uneven gait.
The two spoke in unison: “What happened to your foot?”
After speaking, Meng Qiran immediately pressed his lips together tightly.
Chen Qingwu said it was nothing. “Just twisted it slightly.”
Meng Fuyuan stepped closer and supported her.
Meng Qiran looked at their movements and turned his gaze away.
At the hospital, they went to emergency, got an X-ray, and confirmed that Meng Qiran only had external injuries—three stitches under local anesthesia would suffice.
As for Chen Qingwu, she only had a mild sprain; cold compress and spray medication would help it heal.
Afterward, the three went to the police station.
After giving their statements and leaving the station, the rain outside had stopped.
Meng Fuyuan drove the car over and picked up the two of them.
Everyone was still shaken, and for a while, no one spoke.
The car first dropped Meng Qiran off at his studio. Meng Qiran simply said “I’m off” and opened the door to get out.
Chen Qingwu glanced at his retreating figure through the window, then said to Meng Fuyuan: “Can you wait for me? I want to say a few words to Qiran.”
Meng Fuyuan nodded and tossed his coat to Chen Qingwu. “Put it on before getting out, don’t catch a cold.”
Hearing footsteps following him, Meng Qiran’s figure paused.
Chen Qingwu walked up to him and stopped. “…Thank you.”
Meng Qiran said flatly “It’s nothing,” but his gaze fixed on Meng Fuyuan’s coat that she was wearing.
The coat was much too large for her, so it seemed to envelop her entirely.
“Why were you… near my studio?” Chen Qingwu asked.
“Just happened to want to check it out.”
“I see.”
“Mm.”
Of course that wasn’t true. He had come to East City on the eighth day of the New Year, and until today, he had gone there almost every day, just watching from afar without approaching. He hadn’t expected to encounter this situation today.
Chen Qingwu said softly: “Do you remember when I was in high school and fractured my arm?”
“Mm.”
A boy had been bothering Chen Qingwu. During a scuffle, he caused her to fall down the stairs, breaking her arm. It took half a year of recovery before she fully healed.
After the incident, Meng Qiran beat up that boy. From then on, the boy only dared to take detours when passing by Chen Qingwu and Meng Qiran’s classrooms.
As for Meng Qiran, he received a disciplinary mark from the school that was only removed before graduation.
Chen Qingwu looked up at Meng Qiran. “Qiran, I’ve always remembered how good you’ve been to me, and I’ll remember it forever. Last time I said some harsh things when I was emotional—please don’t take them to heart…”
“I didn’t. You were right.” Meng Qiran spoke bitterly. He felt ashamed. What had he done that was so good for her? Counting them up, it was just these few things he could mention, and compared to what she had done for him, they were utterly insignificant.
Chen Qingwu was silent for a moment.
Meng Qiran looked down at her. “…It’s completely too late now, isn’t it?”
“…I’m sorry.”
Meng Qiran’s throat felt bitter. “If, I mean if, there were no brother of mine, would we still have a chance?”
“I don’t want to lie to you, Qiran. Before Meng Fuyuan pursued me, my feelings for you were already exhausted… I’m sorry.”
“The one who should apologize is me.” Nine years—he had made someone who liked him wait for nine years.
Chen Qingwu’s voice was very soft. “Sometimes I think, perhaps it’s better that we never got together. If we had eventually broken up, it might have been more painful than never having started at all.”
Meng Qiran’s voice was strained. “…Perhaps.”
Chen Qingwu glanced at his bandaged head. “…Take a hot shower, remember to change the bandages, take care of yourself, okay?”
“…Okay.” Meng Qiran said hoarsely.
“Then I’m going.”
Meng Qiran nodded.
His hands were shoved in his coat pockets, clenched into fists. He watched Chen Qingwu walk toward the roadside with her uneven gait. It took all his willpower not to chase after her and embrace her—that would be futile and would only make things awkward.
Just as Chen Qingwu was about to open the car door, he suddenly looked away and quickly walked back inside.
Meng Fuyuan glanced at the passenger seat but didn’t ask what Chen Qingwu had said to Meng Qiran. He just turned up the air conditioning a few degrees.
“Weren’t you working overtime today? Why did you come?” Chen Qingwu asked.
“It was raining. I wanted to pick you up and take you home. Didn’t expect to be a few minutes late.”
Chen Qingwu looked at him. “Would you fight with someone?”
“I can only say, if it were me, that bottle wouldn’t have had a chance to hit my head.” Meng Fuyuan glanced at her and chuckled. “You seem very regretful you didn’t get to see me fight?”
“…Of course I’m regretful. I’ve never seen what you look like when you fight.”
“Well, there’s nothing I can do about it. Who told you to be born six years too late, little one?”
“So you mean you have fought before?”
“Of course.”
“When?”
“Elementary school.”
“Only in elementary school?”
“After entering middle school, you should learn to use your brain rather than your fists to solve problems.”
Chen Qingwu laughed aloud.
The car arrived at the apartment’s underground parking garage. Chen Qingwu got out, holding Meng Fuyuan’s now somewhat damp coat.
Meng Fuyuan locked the car and walked to her, stopped, then slipped his arm behind her back and under her knees, lifting her up horizontally.
Chen Qingwu instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. “…I can walk. I’m not crippled.”
“I know. Just consider that I want to hold you.”
Fortunately, they didn’t run into anyone all the way to the elevator.
After exiting the elevator and entering the apartment, Meng Fuyuan finally set Chen Qingwu down.
Chen Qingwu slipped on her slippers and immediately headed for the bathroom—she’d gotten caught in the rain and was worried about catching a cold.
After a hot shower, wearing a hair-drying cap, she walked out of the bathroom.
Meng Fuyuan came out holding a spray can of bruise-relief medication.
She sat at the foot of the bed. Meng Fuyuan crouched down, held her foot, and his gaze paused for a moment on the light gray birthmark on her ankle before pressing the spray nozzle.
Amid the “hiss hiss hiss” sounds, Chen Qingwu heard Meng Fuyuan say softly: “Qingwu, you don’t know how scared I was just now.”
“It’s okay. This is just a low-probability event. The complex will definitely strengthen security in the future. Nothing like this will happen again.”
Meng Fuyuan didn’t respond. Chen Qingwu bent down, lowered her head, and looked at his face.
He looked up, gazing at her.
She had never seen such a look in his eyes—genuine lingering fear.
She seemed unable to bear him worrying or feeling sad for her sake, not even a little bit.
“How about this,” Chen Qingwu said. “I’ll sign up for a boxing class.”
Meng Fuyuan said: “Good idea.”
“Then you have to reimburse me for the course fees.”
“Of course.”
Chen Qingwu laughed and extended her fist.
Meng Fuyuan paused, then also made a fist and bumped it against hers, reaching an agreement.
When the Lantern Festival arrived, Meng Fuyuan consulted Chen Qingwu and decided to host a small party at the apartment. He invited only Pei Shao, Zhao Yingfei, and another company executive—the Maggie whom Chen Qingwu had met before when she helped teach a ceramics class. Afterward, Maggie had specifically asked Meng Fuyuan to deliver a gift to her.
In addition, there was the head of SEMedical whom Chen Qingwu had only heard of but never met—Director Lu, Lu Xiling. He and his girlfriend happened to be visiting East City for the Lantern Festival.
Chen Qingwu left the studio earlier than usual and headed to Meng Fuyuan’s place to help him prepare for the party.
After several days of clear weather, it was still light when Chen Qingwu entered. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sky was a smoky blue with large rose-colored clouds floating across it.
Chen Qingwu set down her bag, changed into more comfortable home clothes, and walked into the kitchen.
Pei Shao was helping out, following Meng Fuyuan’s instructions to brush lemon sauce inside and outside a gutted chicken.
Hearing movement, he turned around and jokingly called out “Sister-in-law.”
Chen Qingwu showed a subtle, hard-to-digest expression.
She walked to the sink and turned on the faucet.
While washing her hands, Meng Fuyuan leaned close and said in a low voice: “Pei Shao just reminded me of something.”
“Hm?”
“In the future, I’ll have to make Qiran change how he addresses you.”
Chen Qingwu froze for a moment, then after realizing what he meant, couldn’t help but lightly hit him, laughing. “Can you spare me? It’s so embarrassing.”
“That’s exactly why he needs to call you that.”
Chen Qingwu flicked water from her hands lightly at his face. He dodged slightly.
The ingredients had been marinated in advance and were placed in the oven. Meng Fuyuan began preparing the avocado shrimp, creamy bacon pasta, and pumpkin soup.
Pei Shao wasn’t convinced, saying he had no idea Meng Fuyuan could cook so many dishes. So those egg noodles he usually made were just him slacking off.
Meng Fuyuan: “Next time you won’t even get egg noodles.”
When all the dishes were mostly prepared, the invited guests arrived one after another.
Zhao Yingfei brought a box of matcha-flavored nama chocolate.
Maggie and Bebe brought a homemade blueberry pie.
The last to arrive were Lu Xiling and his girlfriend.
Lu Xiling was the same age as Meng Fuyuan and had a refined, aristocratic air.
His girlfriend was named Xia Yuqing. True to her name, she was vibrantly enthusiastic with a pure student-like quality. When asked, she was twenty-four and still in graduate school.
Everyone chatted and introduced themselves, then moved to the dining room to sit.
Chen Qingwu and Pei Shao helped carry all the food out of the kitchen, spreading a dazzling array across the table.
After Chen Qingwu and Meng Fuyuan sat down, everyone raised their wine glasses, clinked them, and wished each other a happy Lantern Festival.
The conversation initially centered on Maggie’s five-year-old daughter Bebe, then gradually shifted to Chen Qingwu.
Hearing that she worked with ceramics, various related questions were thrown her way.
Chen Qingwu patiently answered each one.
Maggie then asked with a smile: “Bebe kept telling me after going home that she found ceramics very interesting and asked if she could take classes with Sister Chen again. Miss Chen, if you have time, could I bring Bebe to your studio for another experience?”
Chen Qingwu smiled. “Of course! But I’m a half-baked teacher, I’m afraid I don’t teach very well.”
At this moment, Meng Fuyuan took her half-empty glass, refilled it with some red wine, placed it by her hand, and said softly: “Teacher Chen teaches very well. No need to be modest.”
His voice was low enough that only she could hear it, and it wasn’t even any explicit content, yet somehow her ears felt hot.
Lu Xiling then asked: “Miss Chen, do you know Mr. Zhai Jingtang? We once commissioned him to make ceramic components for material property testing.”
Chen Qingwu smiled. “I worked for Teacher Zhai after graduation.”
Lu Xiling nodded. “I see.”
Chen Qingwu asked: “The Porcelain Capital is full of experts. How did you specifically think to approach Teacher Zhai, Mr. Lu?”
“President Meng recommended him.”
Chen Qingwu paused and looked at Meng Fuyuan.
Not convenient to ask anything in front of everyone, Chen Qingwu just smiled at him, showing an expression that said “I’ve caught you again.”
Meng Fuyuan’s expression was perfectly calm, as if saying, so what if you caught me.
Lu Xiling’s girlfriend studied journalism and communication and had taken an elective course in documentary appreciation and creation. She became interested in Chen Qingwu’s profession and asked if, when convenient, she could film a roughly 20-minute documentary.
Chen Qingwu naturally agreed, and the two immediately added each other on WeChat.
The meal had a relaxed atmosphere.
After finishing, everyone moved to the living room. It was still Chen Qingwu and Pei Shao helping Meng Fuyuan tidy the kitchen.
When everything was organized and they were walking out, Chen Qingwu said: “Wait a moment.”
Meng Fuyuan stopped.
Chen Qingwu caught his sleeve. “It looks like you got some pasta sauce on it.”
Meng Fuyuan looked at it. “You go to the living room first. I’ll change clothes.”
Closing the bedroom door, Meng Fuyuan walked into the dressing room. Just as he was about to open the wardrobe door, he glimpsed something and stopped.
In front of the mirror was a dressing stool. Under the stool, Chen Qingwu’s tote bag had fallen over.
She must have been in a hurry to help in the kitchen after coming home and hadn’t placed the bag properly.
Meng Fuyuan crouched down and picked up the items scattered on the carpet—cushion compact, hand cream, lip balm—placing them back in the bag one by one.
When he picked up the last item, he paused.
A Polaroid photo.
A solo photo of Chen Qingwu, taken by him.
Theoretically, it should be in the locked drawer of his study desk in South City. How did it end up here?
Had Chen Qingwu discovered it last time she went to his study?
But the desk drawer was still properly locked with no signs of tampering.
And if she had discovered it herself, she would definitely have asked him about it.
Meng Fuyuan considered the possibilities of how it ended up here, reviewing everything that had happened during this period. He came to a general conclusion and couldn’t help but furrow his brow.
After putting everything back in the bag, Meng Fuyuan looked at the Polaroid for a moment longer, then placed it back in the bag’s inner pocket.
He found a clean shirt from the wardrobe, took off the dirty one, and tossed it into the laundry hamper.
After changing and buttoning up, he walked out.
The living room atmosphere was lively. Without knowing what they were discussing, Meng Fuyuan joined in with a smile, as if that interlude hadn’t happened.
At ten-thirty in the evening, everyone said their goodbyes.
Zhao Yingfei lived far away, so Meng Fuyuan arranged for the driver to take her back to campus.
As the space quieted down, gentle music still flowed from the speakers.
There was still some blueberry pie left on the coffee table. Chen Qingwu crouched down, cut a small piece with a fork, and put it in her mouth. “Speaking of which, I just suddenly remembered—I’ve actually seen Lu Xiling before.”
“When?”
“Sixth grade of elementary school. You didn’t know? Back then, you two were called the Twin Grasses of Nanwai.”
“…” Meng Fuyuan showed an expression that was hard to describe.
“At that time, my desk mate really liked Lu Xiling and asked me to accompany her to your school gate to secretly wait for him.”
“Little one, how old were you then?”
“Twelve. Don’t underestimate kids—we were very precocious.”
“…” Meng Fuyuan’s expression said “I don’t agree.”
Chen Qingwu thought for a moment and added: “Back then, there were also people in class curious about you—you used to come to our class to pick me up. Some people knew you were my brother and came to ask me if you were as aloof at home. I said you helped Auntie wash dishes, but they didn’t believe me.”
“Why not choose boys their own age?”
“Girls are mentally more mature than boys. Everyone thought boys their own age were quite childish. But that kind of liking was more like admiration for an idol, not that complicated.”
“That’s more acceptable.”
Chen Qingwu turned her head, propping her chin on her hand as she looked at him. “When you were in high school, you were actually a bit more approachable than now, right? You even went to internet cafes.”
“You know?” Meng Fuyuan was somewhat surprised.
“Once after school, I went shopping with friends and ran into you. It seemed to be on the basement level—you had to go down stairs. Because you were wearing a Nanwai uniform, I took an extra look. But I didn’t call out to you.” Chen Qingwu recalled, smiling. “But wearing a school uniform to an internet cafe, would they really let you in?”
“It was an internet cafe owned by a classmate’s relative.”
“I see.” Chen Qingwu asked again, “What did you do at the internet cafe? Play games?”
“Mm. Sometimes watch movies.”
“What kind of movies do you need to go to an internet cafe to watch?”
Chen Qingwu wouldn’t let it go and asked with a smile, “Did I discover some incredible truth?”
“Miss Chen, the kind of movies you’re thinking of—why wouldn’t I hide at home to watch them? Watch them at an internet cafe for an audience?”
“Oh.” Chen Qingwu made an enlightened expression. “So that means you have watched them.”
“Haven’t you?” Meng Fuyuan looked at her.
Chen Qingwu turned her head away and forked another piece of pie into her mouth. “Sister Maggie’s skills are so good.”
Her attempt to change the subject didn’t succeed.
Meng Fuyuan suddenly leaned in, his breath falling on her ear. “I asked you a question, Qingwu.”
Chen Qingwu’s ears turned slightly red. Her voice was somewhat unnatural due to slight tension. “…Yes. Otherwise, where would I learn the tricks to deal with you? Imagine them out of thin air?”
After this period of adjustment, Meng Fuyuan’s resistance to her verbal attacks had significantly increased. He even had energy to counterattack: “I see. No wonder they’re endless.”
“Do you still have a trump card?” Meng Fuyuan asked with a low laugh.
“Since it’s a trump card, how can I use it casually?”
“Mm. You make a good point.”
Meng Fuyuan said nothing more, just watched her movements. After she set down the fork, he asked slowly: “Are you full?”
Chen Qingwu nodded hesitantly.
“I’m still a bit short.” Meng Fuyuan’s voice was extremely calm.
As his words fell, one arm went around her back, the other scooped under her knees, and he lifted her from the floor, heading straight for the bedroom.
A slipper fell off along the way. She reminded him. He said, leave it there, we’ll get it later—no need for it now anyway.
In the enclosed space, the air was steamy, as if visibility was extremely low on a foggy day.
When her front pressed against the glass, the coldness made Chen Qingwu involuntarily shiver.
Meng Fuyuan kissed her earlobe from behind. Her palm weakly pressed against the glass, as if at any moment her knees might give way and she’d collapse.
She felt hopeless because at this moment, the image of Meng Fuyuan in high school unconsciously floated into her mind.
Wearing the black and white school uniform with the shirt underneath unbuttoned by two buttons, vaguely revealing his defined collarbone, which somehow made him seem even more cold and restrained.
He wasn’t a loner at school, but he didn’t have many friends either—not like other popular figures who gathered crowds.
Sometimes when waiting for him with her parents at the Nanwai gate, sitting in the car, she could spot his figure from afar. Using “standing out from the crowd” to describe him wasn’t an exaggeration at all.
“Yuan-gege…”
Hearing this address after so long, Meng Fuyuan paused. He leaned his ear closer, wanting to hear clearly what her muddled voice was saying.
Chen Qingwu’s breathing was broken: “Do you remember… when you were in high school… your school had a Christmas party…”
That day, she and Meng Qiran had secretly gone to watch.
Meng Fuyuan’s class performed a play with a Western fantasy theme.
Meng Fuyuan played the prince’s knight commander, with only three extremely brief lines throughout.
During the performance, she heard girls in the audience whispering: Having Meng Fuyuan play just a knight commander—isn’t that a waste of talent? Now who would believe the prince is supposed to be devastatingly handsome?
The knight commander wore an Attila jacket with a royal blue single-sided cape, matching gold sash and medals. There must have been some personal preference from the girls in charge of costumes in his class—otherwise why would a minor role have such a complete outfit?
In the knight commander’s hand was a silver ceremonial sword. He stood beside the prince with an indifferent expression. When the spotlight came on, the blade gleamed coldly.
“So that’s what you were daydreaming about.” Meng Fuyuan reached out, lightly gripped her chin, turned her head, and bit her lip.
Chen Qingwu gasped softly. Her voice seemed softened by the moisture, saying quietly: …I want it to hurt a bit more.
Like offering her neck to the knight’s sword, willingly going to her death.
“Where?”
“It’s just…” Still unable to say it out loud, Chen Qingwu could only indicate through action.
The sudden tightness made Meng Fuyuan’s scalp tingle, but his voice was excessively calm. “Are you sure?”
Chen Qingwu nodded.
Meng Fuyuan lowered his head to kiss her, adding in a low voice, “Then stop me anytime.”
Chen Qingwu couldn’t say another word. Even her breathing became scattered. Meng Fuyuan held her waist tightly, providing support so she wouldn’t fall. She instinctively pressed even closer against the glass.
The sharp contrast between cold and heat made her feel like a piece of red-hot lava thrown into an extremely cold spring.
Very embarrassing.
Chen Qingwu prided herself on having decent stamina—after all, moving and carrying things every day built up strength over time. But this time, Meng Fuyuan had to carry her out of the bathroom.
Her hair was still wet. Wrapped in a bathrobe, she crouched on the bed with her head lowered, her eyes somewhat reddened by the moisture.
There was also a factor of having cried.
When Meng Fuyuan came in with a hair dryer and saw this scene, he immediately lifted her face, asking anxiously: “I’m sorry, did I go too far?” His voice held some panic.
Chen Qingwu shook her head. “Promise me one thing and I’ll forgive you.”
“Tell me.”
“…That knight commander costume—could you wear it again?”
She looked at him with moisture-filled eyes.
Knowing full well that her pitiful appearance was an act, he had no way to resist. It was as if not agreeing to her would weigh on his conscience.
Meng Fuyuan plugged in the hair dryer and gently gathered her hair.
The moment he turned it on, he sighed and said: “…You buy it then.”
PS. Note for new readers: Xia Yuqing and Lu Xiling are the protagonists of my other work “Yellow Sparrow Rain.”
