Volume 1, Chapter 38: Be Good, Stop Making a Fuss
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Meng Huaijin glanced at the person in the bathroom.
She probably had not yet realized that the glass was completely transparent. At that moment, she was staring at the countless marks covering her body in the mirror.
Apparently unable to believe what she was seeing, the girl did not so much as blink. Perhaps some scene had suddenly come back to her, because her cheeks instantly flushed as red as pomegranate seeds, the color spreading all the way to her ears.
Meng Huaijin’s breathing faltered. In a low voice, he asked, “And then?”
His subordinate replied, “Then the old madam said that whoever it was, once they found out, there was no need to inform him. They were to deal with that person the same way they had dealt with Meng Xian.”
Meng Huaijin crushed the cigarette between his fingers.
“Understood.”
After hanging up, the man gazed at the strange, ever-changing sky beyond the window, his eyes filled with gloom.
After all these years, his mother still loved controlling her son’s life. She was still just as insatiably greedy, still wanting everything for herself.
* * *
After getting dressed and leaving the bathroom, Shu Wan glanced toward the window and said with great loyalty, “Come on. I’ll take you around South City.”
Looking at her solemn expression, Meng Huaijin pulled out a faint smile.
“What are we going to do?”
“Whatever we do, we have to dry your hair first.” She handed him the hair dryer, the corners of her mouth lifting in a smile. “Mr. Meng, I’ll leave it to you.”
She had deliberately refrained from drying her hair properly just so she could enjoy this treatment.
Meng Huaijin gave her a light sidelong glance, took the hair dryer, and plugged it in. Then he pulled her over—not particularly gently—and switched on the hot air.
The girl remained perfectly still, feeling his long fingers comb through her dripping hair and lightly graze her scalp. Warm air swept over her, hot and comforting.
The service she had failed to properly enjoy that time when she was drunk was finally something she could experience for real.
But this was stolen time, and he was an actor she had invited at gunpoint...
Shu Wan stared blankly at the man reflected in the floor-to-ceiling window as he silently dried her hair.
“Mr. Meng, your performance is excellent. Very cool!”
Meng Huaijin switched off the dryer and tossed it aside. With two fingers pressed against the center of her forehead, he pushed away the head she had raised on tiptoe, clearly intending to ask for a kiss.
The girl pursed her lips, hurried after him, and casually linked her arm through his.
Tilting her head, she asked, “Are you cultivating the path of absolute detachment? You don’t even want a reward like this? Are you sure you don’t want it?”
Dragging her into the elevator, Meng Huaijin said with utter finality, “I don’t.”
The girl had no intention of listening. She suddenly leaped up and wrapped herself around him, issuing her order in a soft, childish voice:
“You don’t want it, but I do. Kiss me. Right now. Immediately.”
The man instinctively raised an arm to catch her. He was just about to lose his temper when she began chattering reminders at him.
“Remember your role. There’s still one day left, so you’re not allowed to get angry with me. Hurry up and kiss me.”
What bizarre, nonsensical childish ideas she had. He truly had no way to deal with her.
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Meng Huaijin lowered his eyes and looked at her silently for a moment. In the end, he supported her with one hand and pressed the other against her head to keep her from moving. Then he lowered his head and kissed her forehead.
“Be good, Shu Wan. Stop fooling around.”
His tone was unusually gentle and warm.
After so many days, this was the first gentle thing he had said to her. Shu Wan suddenly felt a sting in her nose and buried her face against his chest, unable to speak.
After a long while, she finally asked in a low voice, “Shall we go on a date, Mr. Meng?”
The elevator doors opened. Carrying her, Meng Huaijin stepped out.
“As you wish.”
The consequence of letting her have her way was that dinner had to be properly ceremonial. The table had to be long, with beautiful petals arranged down the middle and candles rising in tiers.
In other words, a candlelit dinner.
Meng Huaijin frowned throughout the explanation. Driving his friend’s car, he found the sort of Western restaurant she had described near the hotel and instructed the waitstaff to make the necessary preparations.
When the two of them entered the private dining room and saw the gaudy, impractical decorations spread before them, the man’s brows drew together more and more tightly.
Shu Wan, however, was delighted. Seated across from him at a considerable distance, she ate two plates of pasta. Before leaving, she even asked a waiter to take a photograph of them.
“I won’t post it everywhere,” she promised.
Meng Huaijin said nothing.
She continued, grinning from ear to ear, “Thank you for the candlelit dinner, Mr. Meng.”
Ignoring her shameless delight at having gotten her way, the man ruffled her fluffy hair carelessly and turned to leave the restaurant.
“Miss, your boyfriend is so handsome!” the waitress exclaimed.
Shu Wan froze for a moment, then, after a long pause, smiled and gave a small nod.
“Thank you.”
She jogged after the person ahead of her and naturally slipped her arm through his. Then she repeated the waitress’s words to him.
Meng Huaijin merely turned his head to look at her without replying.
The streetlights had just come on. There were not many pedestrians along Wutong Road, but the stalls had already filled the street.
Shu Wan stopped in front of a small stand selling temporary tattoos.
“I used to love buying these.”
“You dared to wear them?” the man asked.
“I didn’t dare. My mother would beat me.” She laughed. “I’d buy them anyway and hide them, or secretly stick them somewhere on my clothes where they would be covered up. My mother couldn’t see them.”
He asked again, “Why did you like them?”
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Shu Wan selected a pair of red temporary tattoos bearing ornate traditional lettering, paid for them, and continued walking.
“Because I was rebellious,” she replied. “Because I wanted to be different.”
Meng Huaijin took them from her and examined the cinnabar-colored designs, which looked like the work of someone scribbling with a brush. His brows furrowed repeatedly.
“What meaning could these possibly have?”
Shu Wan snatched them back, tore one open, and pressed it to the inside of her wrist, chattering all the while.
“You just don’t understand. This is the sense of ritual young people have.”
“Besides, you have to trust the taste and wisdom of our ancestors. This cinnabar tattoo design has been passed down for a very long time. It means: to find joy in the ordinary, and peace in having one’s wishes fulfilled.”
After a brief pause, she blinked her long lashes and said with utter seriousness, “Putting ‘wishes fulfilled’ on the wrist symbolizes that everything will go as we hope and that every year will be peaceful. May life be as free as the wind, and may you and I both become free people.”
May everything go as we hope, and may every year be peaceful. May life be as free as the wind, and may you and I both become free people.
Meng Huaijin came to a stop. His tall figure almost completely blocked the light above the girl’s head. His gaze fell straight upon her, his features obscured in shadow.
“I’ll put one on you too. Don’t worry—it won’t affect your stern, sharp image. It washes off with water. If you don’t like it, you can wash it off tomorrow...”
Without waiting to see whether he agreed, Shu Wan tore open the other tattoo and pressed it to the inside of his wrist.
Once it was in place, she slipped her own hand into his broad palm of her own accord and interlaced their fingers, bringing the two cinnabar-colored designs tightly together.
They walked hand in hand in silence for a long while, while the girl gazed at their long, mottled shadows stretching across the ground.
Behind them lay a long and bustling avenue, packed with crowds streaming north and south, its endless liveliness seemingly without rest.
And tonight was the last day they would remain here as a couple.
All at once, Shu Wan ran ahead and hopped across Meng Huaijin’s shadow.
Seeing her childish attempt to step on his shadow, Meng Huaijin looked on in bewilderment.
The girl raised her eyes, the corners of her lips curved in a smile.
“I’m dancing. Can’t you tell? The tango.”
As she spoke, she took half a small step forward, almost touching him, then deftly retreated half a step.
Her movements were light, quick, and perfectly coordinated. Every step seemed to land upon a note on a black-and-white piano. As she advanced and retreated, the hem of her skirt flared with each turn, as though she had crushed a handful of sunset and scattered the fragments through the air, bringing even the heavy atmosphere around them to life.
Especially when she smiled, the stars filling her eyes were enough to make the neon lights lining the street lose all their color, reducing them to mere embellishments around her.
Meng Huaijin stood where he was, his fingers curling unconsciously into fists, his gaze fixed upon the girl.
Stubborn and obstinate—that was her. Extreme and impulsive—that was her. Fragile and broken—that was her. Weeping like pear blossoms struck by rain—that was her. Youthful, passionate, unable to hide her feelings—that was her too.
The man’s Adam’s apple moved in a slow swallow. Before he realized it, the girl had already taken his hand and led him through an exceptionally graceful turn, like an elegant curtain call.
“Thank you, Uncle,” she said. “Thank you for indulging my madness and joining me in all my mischief.”
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