Chapter 58 Sleeping in Each Other's Arms: What We Want to Say, We'll Talk About It When We Get into Bed.
Meng Cenjun refrained from chasing after them; she was in a fit of anger and was afraid that going at this moment would only annoy people.
He looked at the mess on the ground, his whole body like a cracked porcelain vase, staggering and teetering on the verge of collapse. Reaching the corner, he picked up the canvas bag Lan Jia had flung aside, opened it, and found a honey jar broken inside, golden honey spilling out and smearing the other items.
The honey had no label and looked like it was homemade; it must have been a gift from someone else.
The bag was no longer usable and would be a hassle to clean. Meng Cenjun reached out and took out the items one by one.
Card holder, handheld fan, tin box of fruit candy, phone charging cable, Montblanc zodiac series fountain pen, and a palm-sized pink notebook.
Meng Cenjun opened it unintentionally and saw that it was filled with work arrangements and many hastily drawn diagrams. She had never liked making plans, but although the position was small, she had always treated it with utmost care.
Now, everything Lan Jia had carefully written down, stroke by stroke, was stained terribly with honey, and the paper was completely ruined.
He held it in his hand, and a wave of heart-wrenching sorrow washed over him. He regretted arguing with her earlier, and even more so, he shouldn't have gotten so angry.
Just then, the door opened, and Aunt Ming returned from the nursing shop, carrying the dress that Lan Jia had soiled a few days ago. She saw the two shoes lying askew by the door, the torn paper bag, and then the motionless Meng Cenjun, and immediately realized that the two bickering lovers had started arguing again.
"Sir, let me clean up." Aunt Ming couldn't bear to see him so soaked.
Meng Cenjun didn't say anything, but held the notebook in her hand, got up and went upstairs to change her clothes.
As I passed Lan Jia's bedroom, I stopped and heard intermittent sobbing coming from inside. She was crying so hard she could hardly breathe; she was heartbroken.
He stood frozen in place, feeling as if steel needles were piercing his spine, the pain so intense he could barely stand.
She clenched her fist, but couldn't resist knocking and going in. Then Aunt Ming came up from behind her and gestured for her to go in and take a look.
Meng Cenjun turned to the side, letting her knock on the door. There was no response from inside. After exchanging glances, they had no choice but to open the door a crack and peek inside.
Through the crack in the door, he saw Lan Jia lying on the bed, her face buried in the pillow, her shoulders trembling as she cried.
Aunt Ming's face immediately darkened, and her gaze towards him became more reproachful. She stepped inside and closed the door, keeping Meng Cenjun out.
Helpless, he had no choice but to return to his room with heavy steps, take a shower, and change into clean pajamas.
It took quite a while for the time to pass before Aunt Ming brought up a steaming cup of ginger tea. The bedroom door was wide open, and Lan Jia was already sitting up, leaning against two silk down pillows. There was a pile of crumpled tissues on the bedside table. As if sensing something, she looked up and the two met eyes from a distance. For a second, then two seconds, she angrily turned her head away again.
"How is she?" Meng Cenjun asked in a low voice.
“Miss got caught in the rain and then got so worked up. Luckily, it didn’t trigger her old ailment.” Aunt Ming said in a low voice, glancing at him again. “You can’t keep acting like this in the future. How can you withstand such torment?” She always treated Lan Jia like a baby, wishing she could keep her in a cradle and protect her at all times.
Meng Cenjun nodded, knowing she didn't want to see him right now, so he went to the study to avoid her. He sat there for a while, his thoughts in turmoil, unable to handle any of his work.
It was already late at night. Having learned from his previous experiences, he knew that conflicts couldn't be left unresolved overnight. After thinking it over, he decided to get up and go out.
Lan Jia's door was tightly shut, not letting in a single ray of light. He wondered if she was asleep. If so, it would be good to let him go in and check on her.
With that thought in mind, Meng Cenjun turned the doorknob and gently stepped inside.
The room was quiet, with a little light filtering through the half-drawn curtains to keep him from seeing complete darkness. He saw a small mound of light rising from under the covers, and groped his way towards her, reaching the bedside and crouching down to look at her.
They'd argued like this before, but back then she was younger and more dependent on him, which gave him a sense of security, making him believe their relationship was unbreakable. But now that she's older, and with so many people eyeing her, he's growing increasingly afraid—afraid her heart will be stolen, afraid she'll no longer need him.
Meng Cenjun reached out, but only touched the strands of hair that were scattered on the pillow. She whispered, "Lan Jia, I'm sorry."
Suddenly, a rustling sound came from the small hill, followed by a muffled voice with a heavy nasal tone: "I can't hear you clearly."
He breathed slowly and steadily, gazing intently at her.
Lan Jia pulled back a large section of the blanket and said to him coldly and forcefully, "I can't hear you. If you have something to say, come up here and say it."
As soon as she finished speaking, she turned to the side, making room for him.
Her eyes were dry from crying, and her eyelids were slightly swollen. In the darkness, Lan Jia stared straight at a corner of the room until her eyes were sore. She rubbed them for a while before feeling a slight descent beside her, and a body temperature that wasn't hers coming over her. Meng Cenjun had lain down next to her.
He remained silent for a while, without making any movement, as if he were just lying there stiffly, like a stone statue.
If he had actually spoken, he would have kept his mouth shut again. Was it really that hard to get an explanation from him? Lan Jia felt a strange itch in her heart, and she quickly turned over. Just as she was about to ask, she touched something slightly cool.
They were almost nose to nose. She was wondering when he had gotten so close when a hand reached out and pulled her, blanket and all, forcefully into his arms. He adjusted his position, resting his chin on the top of her head, and held her tightly, as if holding a rare piece of jade.
Lan Jia didn't resist; she snuggled up to him for warmth, waiting for him to continue.
Then I heard him say, "Don't see that person again. If he comes looking for you again, just walk away. Zuo Tai will protect you."
She was getting annoyed by this kind of inexplicable command again: "He's not a ghost, why are you avoiding him like this, being so afraid of him?"
Upon realizing this, Meng Cenjun's heart sank as if a stone had fallen into water. She could only try to calm Lan Jia down first, and said indirectly, "He is my uncle, Meng Shiyuan. He has an eccentric temperament and unconventional behavior. His repeated visits to you are unlikely to be for any good reason. Since we don't know what he's planning, it's best to avoid meeting him."
Sure enough, her feeling of apprehension was genuine, but what Meng Shiyuan said wasn't entirely untrue either.
"He seems to be a real old friend of my mother's."
“Those were old friends with whom I had already broken off relations,” he said.
"Even so, just act like you're not involved. Brother, why did you react so strongly back then?" His behavior was so unusual that she couldn't help but have her suspicions. "What do you know about what happened back then?"
"I don't know," Meng Cenjun immediately denied.
Seemingly realizing that this explanation wasn't convincing, she added, "The Meng family members aren't easy to get along with. I just don't want you to have too much contact with them. Lan Jia, everything I did today was a bit extreme. Just consider it my overreaction. I apologize, okay?"
Lan Jia thought it made sense. If the Meng family were all good people, why would they have sent away a helpless child after Meng Cenjun's parents passed away? His reaction today must have been triggered by seeing Meng Shiyuan, which reopened old wounds, leaving him no choice but to act this way. She quickly believed about 70-80% of this explanation.
Having heard the explanation, and knowing she wasn't one to make a fuss unnecessarily, she decided not to argue with him anymore.
But the anger she felt earlier was genuine; she cried until her eyes were swollen, and she was still feeling resentful, determined to get something back from him.
Lan Jia struggled and pushed him away, saying calmly, "If you keep me in the dark and make me angry again, I really won't talk to you anymore."
Suddenly feeling empty in her arms, Meng Cenjun forced herself to say, despite her discomfort, "There won't be a next time. But you must remember what I just said."
Knowing that if she didn't respond, she would have to listen to his long nagging, Lan Jia gave a serious "hmm." But actually, even without him saying it, she didn't want to see Meng Shiyuan again. What a weirdo.
“I might not sleep well tonight, so you’ll stay here with me.” She gave the order, not feeling at all that there was anything wrong with her brother staying in her room.
After a long pause, Meng Cenjun finally spoke in agreement. His soft, brief "Mmm" was a decision made after a struggle between reason and instinct. Fine, he would stay by her side as family, as an older brother, just as he had done many years ago.
As the night deepened and the cold rain continued to fall, the two embraced again, without any romantic thoughts, as if they were simply seeking warmth.
Before going to sleep, Lan Jia inexplicably thought of the phone call Ms. Yi received at home on the day of the car accident, when Ms. Yi had also said she would take her to meet a friend. If she hadn't been called out, if she hadn't changed her mind halfway there, would none of this tragedy have happened?
She suddenly felt a terrifying palpitation.
At this moment, Song Qingqu, his heart pounding, stepped into a villa on the outskirts of the Li River. The place was secluded, with lush trees, like a place to escape the world. However, the weather was strange; a sudden storm raged through the forest, making it howl like ghosts, which only added to the somber atmosphere.
The study was brightly lit; the mahogany floors, recently waxed, reflected a dazzling light under the lamp. Several paintings and calligraphies hung in the room, none of them masterpieces, likely the owner's hobbies in his leisure time.
A well-dressed middle-aged man was writing at his desk. His hair was gray, but his demeanor was refined and elegant. A pair of Hetian jade paperweights rested on the horizontal scroll, bearing the words "Wen Nai Feng Bo Yuan Shi Cong" (meaning "Steady and resilient, willing to endure wind and waves") in bold, vigorous, and graceful running script.
Song Qingqu pushed open the door and entered. The sandalwood incense, mixed with a faint scent of ink, wafted gently.
The middle-aged man holding the pen remained silent, patiently listening to his story before raising his head and smiling. When he looked at him, a hidden excitement and madness were revealed in his finely lined eyes.
"If that's the case, then let's find an opportunity to make our move."
He seemed to have not felt this happy in a long time. His body relaxed, he leaned back, and his arms naturally rested on the armrests of the wheelchair.
Author's note: We still don't know just how many evil deeds Uncle Meng committed. [Heartbroken]
"Willing to endure the storms, I will always persevere" is from Nalan Xingde's poem "Jianzi Mulanhua: Candlelight Flickering Shadows".
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