Chapter 7 Tide-like Moisture "Brother, let's not fight anymore, okay?"...
Upon seeing that it was Meng Cenjun, she awkwardly avoided eye contact. "Brother, aren't you in a meeting?"
"Yes, it's already very late back home, let them rest first."
Even evil factory owners have moments of conscience? She couldn't help but wonder.
Seeing that she didn't intend to answer, he deliberately changed the subject, asking, "What do you want from me?"
She then remembered her original purpose, but when she actually stood in front of him, she inexplicably hesitated. She couldn't possibly tell him that Qiao Zimu intended to propose to her, could she? Even though she still felt in her heart that it was a spur-of-the-moment decision and not genuine.
Ever since Meng Cenjun strictly forbade her from dating, she had become somewhat reluctant to discuss matters of the heart with him. Lan Jia remembered when she was in high school in California, she thought that being so far away would allow her to be carefree, but as soon as she had the idea of dating, Meng Cenjun would call her with a warning, scaring her into not daring to take any further action.
She always felt that Meng Cenjun had planted secret spies around her, who could still closely monitor her every move even though they were thousands of miles apart. This feeling of being constantly watched was absolutely terrifying.
Even now, when she occasionally thinks back to that boy with the beautiful green eyes, she feels a deep regret that she hasn't even been able to have a proper relationship all these years.
After careful consideration, Lan Jia closed herself off again and decided not to tell Meng Cenjun for the time being.
She scratched her head awkwardly, trying to come up with an excuse. After racking her brains for a while, she rambled on, "It's nothing, it's just that my hair has been greasy for two or three days and it's really uncomfortable. Brother, could you find someone to help me? I can't wash it with one hand..."
Meng Cenjun looked at her for a while and asked, "Whom do you want to ask for help?"
These words struck Lan Jia as odd. Was he trying to use this opportunity to reprimand her, telling her not to keep asking Qiao Zimu for help? She wasn't that inconsiderate.
Afraid of saying the wrong thing and causing conflict, she cautiously said, "Whatever is appropriate is fine, brother... you decide."
After saying that, Lan Jia carefully observed his expression and saw that he didn't seem to agree. She immediately felt that she had guessed the wrong question.
"Go back to your room first, I'll make arrangements," he said calmly.
Lan Jia nodded hurriedly, but after taking a few steps, she turned back, picked up the gift box, and ran off into the distance.
Seeing her evasive manner, Meng Cenjun sighed inwardly. Did she really not want to see him?
Lan Jia returned to her room and carefully put away the gift. Soon, hotel staff came to her room, and the two of them worked together to bring out a grape-purple velvet lounge chair.
Fortunately, the bathroom is spacious enough that the recliner placed vertically next to the bathtub doesn't feel cramped.
She let her hair down, combed it smooth, and waited for the people Meng Cenjun had arranged to arrive.
Bored, she started fiddling with her hair. She'd been so busy having fun these past few days that the ends were incredibly dry. She planned to get her hair treated by the hairdresser Jingwei had recommended when she got back to China. Summer vacation had just begun, and she'd already found an internship as a costume designer's assistant. Her original plan was to join the film crew a week after her trip. This was her first job, and Lan Jia wanted to give it her best.
Of course, she still didn't tell Meng Cenjun. If he knew she had gone out to find work, he would definitely interrogate her relentlessly.
Lan Jia was just thinking about acting first and informing him later when she came to her senses and looked up to meet Meng Cenjun's gaze. She stood up abruptly, leaned over to look behind him, and saw no one else.
Lan Jia quickly realized another possibility and her eyes widened in surprise, "Brother?"
Meng Cenjun gave a firm "Mmm" and said, "I happen to have some free time right now, I'll help you."
"This...it's probably best not to bother, right?" she stammered.
But Meng Cenjun seemed to give her no reason to refuse, walking straight over and gently placing a hand on her shoulder: "Lie down."
Lan Jia had no choice but to obediently lie down, but she was still very nervous, her hands gripping the edge of her clothes, her eyes darting around, unsure where to look. If she were given an instruction manual for salbutamol right now, she thought she would enjoy reading it.
The shampoo and shampoo supplies were already prepared on a tray next to the bathtub. Meng Cenjun sat down beside her and slowly rolled up the sleeves of her black shirt to her forearms.
Lan Jia glanced at him unintentionally. His arms looked strong and powerful, but they had a kind of paleness that seemed to hide the sun. The veins hidden under the skin were bulging, and the blood vessels were very obvious, but they didn't look fierce. This made her think of the summer last year when she and Qiao Zimu were enjoying the sun and chilled juice in Palm Beach, while Meng Cenjun was still working.
In Lan Jia's memory, he worked almost year-round, even on holidays when he wasn't at the company, he would bring his battlefield home. Every time she passed by his study, she would be intimidated by the solemn atmosphere inside and would avoid it.
When she was younger, she had thought about having Meng Cenjun accompany her on a trip, but he was always busy and didn't even have time to eat dinner. When she was left alone, she always felt a little resentful.
Now that I'm older, I'm starting to understand that he's doing all this for the family, but I still feel too embarrassed to ask him out. Every time I go out with friends, the thought of Meng Cenjun working so hard always makes me feel a little guilty.
As Lan Jia thought this, her expression became even more complicated. Meng Cenjun leaned down, supporting the back of her head with one hand, and helplessly reminded her, "What are you so nervous about? Aren't you lying on a tiger bench?"
She mumbled something indistinctly, her eyelashes drooping.
He turned on the shower and adjusted the water temperature before carefully wetting her hair. Lan Jia, like a cat touched by water, froze, too afraid to move.
The two were very close, and the heat slowly rose up, making the air in the bathroom seem much thinner.
Lan Jia tried to calm her breathing, feeling his fingers swirling and pressing on her scalp, creating minty bubbles. A few drops of foam splashed onto her forehead and eyebrows, which he carefully wiped away with his thumbs. His softest, most delicate fingertips touched her skin, leaving a few ticklish marks. Lan Jia's eyelashes trembled, a sudden sensitivity washing over her, and she felt a deep sadness.
It seems that from the beginning of her adolescence, she and Meng Cenyun had severed all close physical contact. To be precise, he unilaterally avoided her and forbade her. Even if she habitually rushed to greet him, Meng Cenyun would only step back seriously and earnestly teach her that she could not be as devoid of gender awareness as before.
For Lan Jia at that time, it was a huge psychological letdown. He used to cling to him like that when they were little and never got angry, but now he wouldn't even give her a hug. When she was sad and disappointed, the person Lan Jia subconsciously wanted to be closest to was him, but when she thought of his rejection, she could only retreat again and again.
They should be the closest family in the world, so why have they become like this? Just thinking about it made Lan Jia's nose sting and her lips droop. Afraid that he would see, she quickly bent her arms to cover her eyes.
Meng Cenjun hurriedly turned off the shower and wanted to reach out to touch her, but his hands were covered in slippery foam, so he remained silent for a while before softly asking, "Why are you unhappy?"
Lan Jia shook her head, but tears still involuntarily streamed down her face. She wiped them with her arm, leaving half her face damp with moisture. She didn't like crying so often, especially in front of Meng Cenjun, as it made her seem very vulnerable. But she had always been an emotional person since childhood. So she could only suppress her tears, trying her best not to make a sound.
Actually, she was also blaming herself. As long as Meng Cenjun was even a little bit nice to her, she couldn't resist. No matter how much they argued the night before, or even if she secretly resolved to escape from him, a gift and a few soft words were all it took to easily coax her back.
She hated this feeling of being out of control.
But she seems even more unable to give up on Meng Cenjun.
Lan Jia choked back tears and cried even harder.
Meng Cenjun sighed, turned on the showerhead again, and rinsed the bubbles off Lan Jia's head. Amidst the sound of the running water, she heard him whisper an apology to her.
Lan Jia abruptly pulled her arms away, wondering if she had misheard, her moist, reddened eyes staring blankly at him.
"Brother, what did you just say?"
Meng Cenjun remained silent, only slowly wringing out the long hair at the back of her head.
She still stared at him stubbornly, her tone urgent, as if she was determined to get some answers.
"elder brother!"
Only then did he look at her directly, his gaze falling upon her, so light it felt weightless, like a soft, thin silk. Yet, for some reason, she felt a pang of melancholy and guilt.
Lan Jia watched as he reached out a hand and gently covered her eyes. The moment their skin touched, the dampness carried his body heat.
She obediently closed her eyes, and in the darkness, she clearly heard him say, "I'm sorry, Lan Jia."
I apologize for my arbitrary, domineering, and willful behavior.
With a loud "boom," the high walls she had built in her heart crumbled. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably, soaking his palm.
Lan Jia stopped thinking about anything. A strong desire made her quickly sit up, open her arms, and rush into his arms without a care.
She clung tightly to his neck, like a koala hugging its beloved rosebuds, and large tears fell unceremoniously into his shirt collar.
"Brother, let's not fight anymore, okay?"
"I'll never make you angry again. Let's go back to how we were when we were kids and live a good life, okay?"
Meng Cenjun's arms hung stiffly in mid-air, his hands wet, too afraid to hug her. He felt as if he were being tightly bound by a pink octopus with the salty smell of seawater, and even though it was suffocating him, he didn't even think of breaking free.
After a long silence, he softened his voice and replied in a conciliatory tone, "Okay, then you have to be obedient."
Lan Jia blew her nose and nodded, secretly thinking slyly: Obedience? Only listening to what she thought was right counts as obedience.
The two reconciled, and she felt both relieved and cheerful. She pressed her cheek against the skin on his neck, rubbing it against his warm skin, and then sniffed him like a small animal. As the strong scent of the bath products dissipated, she smelled a very light fragrance that was unique to Meng Cenjun.
Lan Jia wasn't sure which fragrance would best describe the scent; she'd called it Meng Cenyun's perfume since she was little. Once she smelled it, it was like a cat encountering mint—unable to escape, unable to let go, she could only cling to it, clinging on and on.
Meng Cenjun could only feel her nose pressing against his again and again, wondering what mischief she was up to. Her warm breath felt like a feather brushing against him, making a large patch of his skin sensitive. Helpless, he could only turn his head slightly to the side, enduring the tickling sensation to stop her: "Okay, stop moving. Get up and I'll dry your hair for you."
Lan Jia verbally agreed, secretly wanting to linger with him a little longer, but remembering his past authority, she ultimately didn't dare to act recklessly again.
She silently chanted, "There's plenty of time in the future, plenty of time in the future..." but she was also so excited that she couldn't help but smile, creating two shallow dimples on her cheeks.
Meng Cenjun took a towel, covered her head with it, rubbed it, and asked, "Are you that happy?"
She smiled mysteriously and remained silent.
It's rare for Meng Cenjun to apologize to her.
He's never been the type to express his feelings, so even though he didn't say "I'm sorry" to her face today, he must have done a lot of mental preparation beforehand.
Just imagining that scene made her so proud she felt like her tail was practically wagging in the air.
Meng Cenjun had already seen through her little scheme, and thinking it would be good to make her happy, he let her have her way.
The hairdryer roared to life, and the two of them, enveloped in the warm air and the clean, fresh scent of their hair, fell silent.
After a while, Lan Jia asked, "Did someone knock on the door?"
Meng Cenjun stopped blowing the air conditioner and vaguely heard it, "It must be the doctor coming to the door, I'll go take a look."
Lan Jia nodded, thinking that it was just in time; her wound seemed to be hurting more since morning.
She sat there and waited for a long time, but Meng Cenjun still didn't return. She was secretly puzzled, so she got up and went to check.
As soon as she reached the guest room, she caught sight of Meng Cenjun's back in the distance. Upon closer inspection, she saw Qiao Zimu standing by the door, though most of his figure was obscured by Meng Cenjun. After the two spoke in hushed tones, Qiao Zimu noticed her, his eyes brightening briefly before quickly dimming again.
She suddenly remembered when Aunt Ming told her about the fun things that happened in the countryside. When the little yellow dog that her family kept was sick and couldn't go out, the little friends who came to play with it were probably stopped at the door by their owner. They were probably just as frustrated as Qiao Zimu.
As if sensing something, Meng Cenjun turned his head to look at her, his expression still stern.
Lan Jia stood there, feeling inexplicably exhausted, as if two trains had gone off track and were about to collide.
And she just happened to be standing in the middle of the front of the car.
A note from the author:
-------
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com