Volume One, Chapter Five: The Underwear Was Too Small

What? Boyfriend!

Shu Wanyou’s eyes widened, sparkling like two suddenly electrified colored lights.

In just a moment, the girl’s fair cheeks gradually flushed red, quickly spreading to the roots of her ears, making her look especially naive and comical.

“I—I don’t have a boyfriend. Of course, it’s not a boyfriend.”

Talking about these things with elders always brought a strange sense of shame. Whether or not it was true, Shu Wanyou would never admit it, besides, she genuinely had no early romance!

Meng Huaijin witnessed her flustered and incoherent response. Without a word, he stubbed out his cigarette calmly, gave a faint “hmm,” then rose and went to the study.

Just like that? Shu Wanyou was left speechless.

He always had a way of shifting her from one kind of sadness into a different kind of confusion and surprise with his blunt, cold manner.

Like the day he came to pick her up in North City; a casual remark—“Can you drop me off at the welfare home?”—had caught her completely off guard, making her momentarily forget her sorrow and pain.

Tonight was no different. What had made her so upset earlier? She had already forgotten…

The study door was ajar, and from her spot on the sofa, Shu Wanyou could see Meng Huaijin sitting at the desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Beneath the reading lamp, the stern and resolute face finally showed glimpses of fatigue.

Hearing noises from the kitchen, Meng Huaijin paid no mind.

Soon after, a cup of liquid was quietly placed on the desk before him, prompting a slight raise of his eyebrow in surprise.

It was clear this was a hangover cure soup, and unlike the blackened failures discarded in the trash, this bowl looked quite respectable.

“Drink it while it’s warm,” Shu Wanyou said, then quietly withdrew from the study.

Cooking was not her strong suit, but hangover soup was her specialty.

In the past, when her father often came home drunk from social engagements—sometimes late after the housekeeper had gone to rest—Shu Wanyou was the one who made him hangover soup.

But now… Shu Wanyou quickly cut off the thought.

The room was too quiet for her to sleep inside, so she stayed on the sofa, where she could hear the rustle of Meng Huaijin flipping through documents in the study. Accompanied by these sounds, she soon fell asleep on the sofa.

The next morning, Shu Wanyou woke up in bed.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains’ gaps, warming her blanket and feet.

After a brief moment of daze, Shu Wanyou quickly turned over, got up, put on her shoes, and opened the door.

Her gaze swept across the hundred-plus square meter room, finally resting on the balcony.

Meng Huaijin had not left; lazily seated on a single sofa by the window, he was on the phone, one hand idly fiddling with the porcelain teacup lid.

“Hmm, he’s here with me.”

“Been busy lately, will come back when I have time.”

Hearing the voice, Meng Huaijin glanced lightly in that direction, then withdrew his gaze only to glance again momentarily.

She was wearing the pajamas he had chosen for her at the mall that day. She hadn’t noticed before, but now it was clear the clothes were too small.

Shu Wanyou thought it might be because the phone call wasn’t convenient for others to overhear, so she ducked her head back inside, returned to the bedroom to dress properly and freshen up before coming out again.

It was the first time she had seen Meng Huaijin cook. His black shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and from behind, his broad shoulders and narrow waist formed smooth lines. When flipping the pan, he had one hand in his pocket, his movements as skillful as twirling a pistol.

Before transferring back to North City, he had been rooted in the military for many years. He carried the refinement of a noble son and the wildness of a hardened officer. Now, he also bore the composure and depth of a high-ranking official.

“Good morning, Uncle.”

Shu Wanyou leaned against the doorframe and greeted him, her gaze falling on the cup that had held the hangover soup last night, now cleaned and placed on the table. A faint smile curved her lips.

Had he come back to live here?

She thought silently but didn’t ask, knowing that with his temperament, he would never give her a straightforward answer.

Meng Huaijin, back turned, responded with a faint “Good morning,” then turned and handed her the breakfast he had prepared.

Shu Wanyou took the sandwich, placed it on the table, and only began eating after he sat down.

The eggs and toast were cooked to perfection—crispy yet soft, delicious in flavor.

“Was that Grandfather’s call?”

She was even more unfamiliar with the elderly man, only having met him once when she was eight, and she barely remembered his face.

She asked just to have something to say.

Meng Huaijin, however, evaded the question: “Why didn’t you say the clothes were too small when you bought them?”

Shu Wanyou was momentarily stunned. Wasn’t that basic politeness? If someone kindly bought you something, wouldn’t it be rude to complain?

“They’re fine,” she replied.

Meng Huaijin set down his utensils, wiped his hands with a wet tissue, and looked at her plainly: “Shu Wanyou, since I brought you here, this is your home now.”

“Whatever standards of living you had before remain the same here.”

“If you need anything, just say it. No need to hide it. You’re probably not the type to flatter people.”

For a moment, Shu Wanyou’s heart swirled with mixed emotions, yet like a warm breeze, it soothed the anxious unrest that had plagued her for days.

Before leaving, Grandpa Chen had warned her that coming here meant living under someone else’s roof, having to endure and tolerate others’ moods. That was why she had always suppressed herself, trying her best not to be a bother.

“Now, nothing else to say to me?” Meng Huaijin asked again, his voice still cold and low.

“The pajamas are indeed a bit small,” Shu Wanyou lifted her eyes to meet his, speaking frankly and revealing everything, “Actually… the underwear is too small, too.”

Meng Huaijin paused mid-sip of water, then calmly took a sip and tossed out, “After you finish eating, come out with me.”

After breakfast, Meng Huaijin drove Shu Wanyou to the mall, heading straight to the third floor.

He waited in the lounge area, letting her go in and pick out intimate wear herself, buying whatever she liked.

Until now, Shu Wanyou’s clothing—from innerwear to outerwear—had all been provided by her mother, so she wasn’t very clear on her own sizes.

The female sales assistant only glanced at her chest once, then accurately found several larger-sized bras, even complimenting, “Miss, you’re more developed than girls your age.”

Hearing this, Shu Wanyou was at a loss for words.

She had actually hoped to be flatter-chested, as it would be easier to dress. But every time she mentioned it, her friends would beat her up, accusing her of being pretentious.

Meng Huaijin rarely accompanied anyone shopping—only the family’s mother and sisters—and he always just paid. Having sat for about ten minutes, he was already bored enough to smoke two cigarettes.

“Huaijin?”

Amid the noisy mall music, a woman’s voice called out.

Meng Huaijin glanced casually and nodded slightly.

“It’s really you,” Jiang Jie’s face bore an unmistakable smile. “It’s been a while since you transferred to North City, right? Let’s find a time to get together?”

Meng Huaijin looked her squarely and replied coldly, “We’ll see if there’s time.”

Jiang Jie looked at the store he was in, her smile stiffening, “What kind of person would get you to accompany her shopping for underwear?”

Before Meng Huaijin could respond, a clear, crisp voice rang out, “Uncle, I’m done buying. Let’s go.”

The man stood, took the shopping bag from Shu Wanyou’s hand, nodded at Jiang Jie, and strode away.

As they walked forward, Shu Wanyou glanced back several times at the strikingly beautiful, tall, and sophisticated woman. In less than a minute, she spun at least five stories in her mind:

A cherished childhood sweetheart returned from abroad.

A former lover.

A childhood playmate.

A broken mirror waiting to be mended…

“Shu Wanyou, do you want to test your toughness against the pillar?”

Meng Huaijin’s cold, stern voice snapped Shu Wanyou out of her wandering thoughts just as she nearly collided with a pillar.

“Uncle,” she tilted her head and called after him, having to jog to keep up with his long strides, “You said this morning I shouldn’t keep things bottled up in my heart. Can I ask you a question?”

Meng Huaijin glanced at her sideways, mercilessly refusing, “No.”

“Why? Didn’t you say—”

“I told you to state your needs, not to pry into mine.”

“...”