The red wine on the table seemed superfluous.
"Not even red wine?" Tang Yawen asked.
Meng Beiyan shook his head, a faint disappointment rising in his heart. "I don't drink any alcohol."
Ying Qian frowned, wondering to herself: Why didn't Tang Yi know that Meng Beiyan didn't drink alcohol?
The phone stuck on the table rang urgently. Meng Beiyan's expression didn't change. He calmly answered the call and then walked to the balcony.
The phone call was short, and the dinner table was quiet.
He came back and picked up the trench coat hanging on the back of the chair. "Something came up at the company, I have to go now."
His only lingering affection was for Ying Qian, his eyes tenderly gazing at the smile on her lips.
Ying Qian waved.
Tang Yawen didn't even have a chance to exchange a few pleasantries before Meng Beiyan pushed open the door and left.
"Aunt Tang, you're so romantic!" Ying Qian bit her lower lip. "Did my mother tell you that I like roses?"
Upon hearing this, Tang Ya-wen smiled awkwardly: "What roses?"
Ying Qian frowned in confusion, "Didn't you buy the snacks, Aunt Tang?"
"Who said I bought it!" Tang Yawen covered her face. "Bei Yan bought it! What? He even bought you flowers?"
Tang Yawen thought for a moment, "I remember your mother saying that she would bring you a gift every time she came back from a business trip."
"I was wondering what she would give you, and then she told me she would just give you a single rose. You're such a sweetheart."
Ying Qian nodded, her eyes suddenly darkening, and she murmured, "Mom was indeed like that before, after the divorce..."
Having said that, she didn't want to continue.
That memory was painful and horrific.
Tang Yawen's expression was also somewhat unpleasant, but more so it was one of pity.
What really saddened Ying Qian was that during her illness, her mother didn't offer a single word of concern, but instead transferred a large sum of money to her.
Sometimes, she felt that it didn't matter if she felt a little uncomfortable, as long as her mother cared about her and remembered that her mother had a daughter.
She quickly ate a few mouthfuls of rice.
The brief dinner ended abruptly.
Ying Qian and Meng Xuhe helped clear the table, and the two girls also took care of washing the dishes. Throughout the whole process, the lively and active girl didn't say a word.
The sound of the flowing water was very loud.
Meng Xuhe said softly, "Actually, Aunt Cheng cares about you."
...
Ying Qian did not reply, her eyes already slightly red.
She cursed inwardly: What a load of rubbish! He has a new family now and has forgotten about this lovely daughter. She used to be the apple of his eye!
Seeing her aggrieved look, Meng Xuhe wanted to pat her back, but withdrew his hand because of the oil stains on his hands.
She continued, "During your hospitalization, your older brother came many times. He said he was here to see you on behalf of Aunt Cheng."
“I think your older brother and Aunt Cheng care about you a lot.”
"Me too!" she suddenly added, then lowered her head shyly, her voice growing softer, "I also... really like you, my friend from afar."
Ying Qian burst into laughter through her tears, turned and hugged Meng Xuhe. Water dripped from her suspended hands onto the marble floor, "drip, drip."
So tranquil, so gentle.
Tears soaked Meng Xuhe's collar as she said, "Don't cry, Ying Qian. From now on, we're all family."
Her voice was both powerful and gentle.
"Meng Xuhe, I really, really, really like you!" Ying Qian hummed, like a child who had just received candy.
After washing the dishes, the two of them took turns showering.
Ying Qian told Meng Xuhe to go first, and silently mopped up the water left on the ground.
That night, Ying Qian stared blankly at the delicate, thorny rose for a long time, almost silently murmuring, "Big brother, why do you still remember that I like roses? Did Mom tell you that...?"
"Rose, oh rose, if you can hear me, grant me a smooth and successful future, and also, grant my mother happiness and joy."
She turned off the lamp and went to bed.
—
"Ying Qian, wake up." Meng Xuhe knocked on the door with controlled force.
Ying Qian's eyes stung from the sunlight, and she called out, "Get up!"
"Okay." Meng Xuhe then asked, "What would you like for breakfast?"
Ying Qian rubbed her eyes, went to open the door, and found that it was already 7:30.
"It's over——"
"I'm going to be late—"
She rushed to the bathroom to wash up in despair.
Meng Xuhe blinked, glanced at the calendar again, and kindly reminded him, "Today is Saturday, you don't need to go to school, you won't be late."
"No, that's not it." Ying Qian's mouth was covered in toothpaste foam, and she mumbled another sentence.
Meng Xuhe listened several times before she understood what she meant: "I accidentally took that handsome guy's bag by mistake, and I have to rescue my precious bag today."
She nodded, quite worried. "Aren't you going to eat breakfast?"
Ying Qian gargled her mouth, "Of course I'll eat!"
"You arranged to meet him at eight o'clock, right?" Meng Xuhe guessed correctly the moment he heard it.
She glanced at the time, her lips drooping. "Let's eat after we get our bags. Let's just find any breakfast shop."
"Um."
The bus was incredibly crowded at that time, and Ying Qian was almost squeezed out of shape. Luckily, the person next to her who was squeezed tightly was Meng Xuhe.
Otherwise, someone will probably take advantage of us.
Meng Xuhe was not as tall as Ying Qian, and often could not reach the top handrail, so he could only move with the flow of people in the carriage.
“You’re going to fall so easily like that,” Ying Qian said. “You can grab me, my arm, my waist, anywhere, as long as you can stand up.”
As the carriage swayed, Meng Xuhe grabbed Ying Qian's forearm.
"You look a lot like my classmate."
"Boy or girl?" Ying Qian asked gossipy, leaning closer.
"Boy."
Meng Xuhe didn't seem to want to reveal much.
Seeing this, Ying Qian stopped the conversation.
It's only a ten-minute drive to No. 6 Middle School. On weekends, No. 6 Middle School is very quiet, which is in stark contrast to the streets next to it.
At first glance, the entrance to No. 6 Middle School was deserted.
A teenager walked out of the coffee shop next to No. 6 Middle School. He wore a black baseball cap pulled low and a loose gray jacket, exuding a lazy vibe.
What caught Ying Qian's eye was the backpack he was carrying.
"Dude!" she shouted, waving her hand and jogging along, but she was out of breath after crossing the street. "This...you..."
The boy reached out and handed her his backpack. "You're Ying Qian, right?"
“Yes.” Ying Qian replied, then presented the bag she was carrying with both hands, her tone steady and slow, “Here you go, Chen… Wenzhi.”
Seemingly captivated by her gentle gaze, the boy paused in his action of taking the schoolbag.
"..."
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