Any Closer and I'll Lose Control - Chapter 10

Meng Tang changed her clothes and told her roommates she’d head downstairs first.

Wei Chuan leaned against his Land Rover Defender, head bowed as he played a game. Passing girls deliberately slowed their steps, curious to see who he was waiting for.

Meng Tang jogged over. “Wei Chuan.”

Wei Chuan instinctively looked up, then froze.

Meng Tang’s long hair cascaded down, half draped over her right shoulder and chest. Her white dress resembled an epiphyllum, quietly blooming in beauty, unassuming yet captivating.

It was the first time Wei Chuan had seen Meng Tang with her hair down. That polite smile softened her usual cool demeanor, adding a touch of gentleness.

“Sorry,” Meng Tang said as she slipped on an oversized shirt. “Lingyin wanted to shower first, so she hasn’t come down yet.”

Wei Chuan snapped out of his daze, his gaze flickering. “Why apologize?”

Meng Tang replied, “I thought you’d want more time with her.”

Wei Chuan opened the passenger door for her. “What are you thinking? Do I seem like someone who cares about a few extra minutes?”

Not wanting to treat him like a chauffeur, Meng Tang climbed into the passenger seat.

“Careful.” Wei Chuan steadied her wrist, his touch light, almost nervous.

Ever since Shi Lan mentioned how precious Meng Tang’s hands were, Wei Chuan couldn’t help but see them as if they were made of gold, instinctively wanting to protect them.

“It’s fine, they don’t hurt anymore.” Meng Tang noticed the lingering glances from passing classmates and nudged Wei Chuan. “Let’s go, everyone’s staring.”

Over the past few days, Meng Tang had grown more comfortable around Wei Chuan, her tone no longer as reserved as before.

Wei Chuan circled to the driver’s seat and asked, “Which restaurant did you book?”

Meng Tang told him the name. “I’m not really familiar, but I looked it up online, the reviews were good.”

Meng Tang wasn’t short on money, but she wasn’t materialistic either. None of her clothes bore recognizable brand names, and she had little expertise in dining out.

After searching online for a while, she settled on a local cuisine restaurant, neither too close nor too far from campus, priced around 500 per person.

Wei Chuan raised an eyebrow. “How well-off are your roommates?”

He knew this restaurant, around 500 to 600 per head, totaling two or three thousand for six people.

Meng Tang said, “They’re all doing fine.”

Wei Chuan nodded. “Alright, this place works.”

At the restaurant, they were led to a private room, where Meng Tang immediately handed the menu to Wei Chuan.

Without hesitation, Wei Chuan ordered two cold dishes: crystal pork trotter and marinated mixed offal, followed by crab roe tofu, stir-fried pork liver, and bamboo shoot soup with salted pork.

“You handle the rest.”

Meng Tang agonized for a while before asking the server for recommendations.

The server suggested three or four dishes, and she turned to Wei Chuan. “What do you think?”

Wei Chuan said, “It’s fine. Xu Heqing isn’t picky.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Meng Tang’s cheeks flushed. “I’m treating you.”

But with so many people coming, she belatedly realized her oversight and quickly added, “I’ll treat you alone next time.”

That afternoon, Shi Lan had helped her, and Meng Tang didn’t want to leave her alone to deal with Wang Jue, so she’d casually invited her along.

But since Shi Lan was coming, she couldn’t forget the other roommates, unintentionally sidelining the person she’d meant to treat in the first place.

“No need.” Wei Chuan chuckled. “Do I look like I’m short on meals from you?”

Meng Tang smiled, and silence briefly settled over the room.

She pulled out her phone, answering her own question. “Let me check if they’re here yet.”

Wei Chuan hummed in acknowledgment, his gaze lingering on the small cherry-red hair clip on her left side.

This was the only splash of bright color on Meng Tang’s body, like a red mole on fair skin, dazzling to the eyes.

When Wei Chuan snapped back to reality, three minutes had already passed. He cleared his throat awkwardly, breaking the silence:

“After hearing what Shi Lan said this afternoon, I almost feel bad asking you to carve something for me. It’s like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.”

Meng Tang lifted her gaze. “Shi Lan exaggerated.”

“Not really,” Wei Chuan said. “I went out of my way to check your art school’s official website; your profile’s right there on the front page.”

He truly hadn’t expected Meng Tang to be this impressive, far beyond what he’d imagined.

Meng Tang wasn’t used to being praised. She scratched her cheek uncomfortably and demurred, “I just started learning early.”

“How old were you?” Wei Chuan couldn’t help his curiosity. “Was it really tough?”

“Started whittling wood strips at five,” Meng Tang said. “I never went to kindergarten. It was hard at first, but I got used to it.”

In truth, the basics were the hardest and the most tedious.

The wood strips had to be of uniform thickness, with no more than a 0.5-millimeter margin of error.

The old master would take one glance and make her start over. She lost count of how many times she had to redo it. Her fingers would blister, scab over, blister again, scab again… repeating through cycle after cycle of seasons.

Even later, when she practiced lines, learned to sharpen knives, or chiseled geometric shapes, she still had to whittle wood strips.

Fortunately, she was strong and had some natural talent. A year ahead of schedule, at fifteen, the old master allowed her to begin carving faces.

In woodcarving, there’s a saying: Ten years to sharpen the knife, ten years to rough out the form, ten years to carve the face, only after thirty years dare you touch a Bodhisattva’s brow.

So, Meng Tang never considered it hardship, just the way things should be.

She spoke lightly, but Wei Chuan listened with a heavy heart.

He’d played basketball since childhood, treating it as just a sport.

No matter how tough or exhausting, a good night’s sleep would fix it, with coaches and family cheering him on.

It wasn’t the same as learning a craft like Meng Tang.

Artisans faced harsh demands. Meng Tang spent her days with chisels and wood, enduring not just mental fatigue but physical pain.

For a young girl to have such perseverance, it was truly admirable.

The Provincial Museum…

Wei Chuan made a mental note to visit when he had the chance.

His phone rang. Seeing it was Wei Mingzhu, he answered, “Auntie.”

Wei Mingzhu’s voice came through: “Don’t forget about the stitches removal tomorrow.”

“Huh?” Wei Chuan was momentarily confused before realizing and glancing at Meng Tang. “You mean Meng Tang?”

“Who else?” Wei Mingzhu shot back.

“No, I mean-” Wei Chuan was baffled. “Why are you calling me about her stitches?”

Wei Mingzhu clicked her tongue teasingly. “Aren’t you two dating?”

“…Auntie, my dear auntie,” Wei Chuan hurriedly lowered his voice. “Don’t jump to conclusions. We’re just proper, upstanding classmates.”

“Classmates?” Wei Mingzhu sounded skeptical. “The way you were shouting for help that day, I thought you were the one who fainted.”

“It was my first time seeing so much blood, I panicked a little,” Wei Chuan said, almost swearing.

“So, you’re really not together?”

“No.”

Wei Mingzhu, deprived of gossip, hung up without another word.

Wei Chuan laughed awkwardly. “That was my aunt. She was reminding you about the stitch’s removal tomorrow.”

From Wei Chuan’s words, Meng Tang caught Wei Mingzhu’s implication, and her face flushed.

“Sorry for causing the misunderstanding.”

“It’s fine.” Wei Chuan also felt awkward, scrambling for a change of topic. “Oh, by the way, did Xu Heqing add you?”

Meng Tang shook her head. “No.”

Wei Chuan reassured her, “It’s fine. He doesn’t add people easily. I’ll find you an opportunity today.”

“Forget it.”

This was too blatant, no one was that oblivious.

Meng Tang had once come across a post online written from the perspective of someone being secretly admired. She didn’t want to cause Xu Heqing any trouble.

Wei Chuan couldn’t understand her hesitation and asked, “Meng Tang, are you really not planning to confess?”

“Confess to who?”

Just as Wei Chuan finished speaking, a light chuckle came from behind the screen separating the dining area from the private room.

Meng Tang stiffened. How had Xu Heqing entered without making a sound?