Any Closer and I'll Lose Control - Chapter 21

For as long as Meng Tang could remember, it had always been Aunt Fang who applied medicine for her and wiped her tears.

When Wei Chuan suddenly offered to tend to her wounds, she froze for a moment.

Several red welts on her palm had begun to bleed, and Wei Chuan couldn’t help but frown. “The old man really went all out.”

Meng Tang knew she was at fault. She winced and said, “He’s just disappointed in me.”

“Stop moving.” Wei Chuan grabbed her wrist. “Let’s rinse it with clean water first.”

Aunt Fang brought over two or three types of medicine, anti-inflammatory and infection-preventing.

After cleaning and disinfecting the wound, Wei Chuan cradled the back of her hand in his palm and applied a powder to stop the bleeding and reduce inflammation.

“Let’s wrap it lightly with gauze. Honestly, I can’t believe it, your left hand just healed, and now your right hand’s in trouble.”

He winced just looking at it, his brow furrowed the entire time.

A scorching heat spread across the back of her hand, and Meng Tang withdrew it, pressing her lips together. “It’s fine. It’ll heal in a few days.”

“Did he know your left hand was injured?” Wei Chuan tightened the cap on the medicine bottle. “If he knew and still hit you, that’s downright heartless.”

“I didn’t tell him.” Meng Tang looked at him. “Actually, Grandpa dotes on me. He indulges me sometimes, but the moment he senses my attitude is off, a spanking is inevitable.”

“Then… what about your parents?”

A brief silence fell over the courtyard. He had wanted to ask this yesterday during their hike but hadn’t found the right moment.

“They’re divorced.” Meng Tang lowered her eyes. “I was raised by Grandpa.”

Wei Chuan chuckled. “He raised you and still dares to hit you? But the old man did teach you well.”

“It was just the two of us relying on each other.” Meng Tang didn’t want to dwell on the topic and abruptly changed the subject. “Why did you come so early?”

Wei Chuan went to wash his hands with clean water, not looking up. “Not that early, it’s already past nine.”

Aunt Fang brought two plates of pastries from the kitchen for Meng Tang and gestured for Wei Chuan to join them. “You two, have something to eat first.”

“Thank you, Aunt Fang.” As she spoke, Meng Tang handed Wei Chuan a piece of mung bean cake. “Aunt Fang made these herself. Try one.”

Wei Chuan’s hands were still wet, so he instinctively leaned forward and opened his mouth.

Meng Tang was taken aback. “Don’t you have hands?”

“Sorry.” Wei Chuan shook off the water, grabbed a piece, and stuffed it into his mouth. “At home, I’m used to being fed. It was just force of habit.”

Meng Tang muttered under her breath at his shamelessness, “Young master.”

After swallowing the mung bean cake, Wei Chuan gave Aunt Fang a thumbs-up. “True talent lies among the people.”

Even the housekeepers at his home couldn’t make them as delicious as Aunt Fang’s.

Aunt Fang was so amused she couldn’t stop laughing.

Meng Tang watched quietly, thinking that his fans weren’t wrong to nickname him “Wei Sweet.” At the very least, he had a sweet tongue, effortlessly charming everyone around him.

Finishing her tea, Meng Tang stood up. “Weren’t you going to the exhibition hall in the front courtyard? Let’s go.”

Wei Chuan quickly turned and followed her.

The exhibition hall was located on the east side of the front courtyard. Over the years, the most frequent visitor had been Meng Yuchun.

Natural light streamed into the hall through slanted windows, avoiding direct exposure that could damage the wood.

The scent of wood was serene, and Wei Chuan remarked without thinking, “It smells a lot like you.”

Meng Tang paused, finding his words oddly unsettling.

She cleared her throat and pointed. “This duck with the messed-up proportions? I carved it from camphorwood when I was eight.”

Wei Chuan looked over and burst out laughing. “The head’s bigger than the tail, it’s adorably clumsy. I don’t see any imbalance.”

Meng Tang: “…Back then, Grandpa scolded me for it. But my classmates loved it, so I carved a bunch more and gave them away.”

That was the first time someone had taken a liking to her carvings, even though they were rather crude.

Wei Chuan took a step forward, glancing back at Meng Tang as he asked, “This pen holder is quite nice. How old were you when you carved it?”

“Thirteen. I used it in my study for two years before a better one came along, so Grandpa put this one away.”

Wei Chuan lingered over this row for a long time, realizing that thirteen was a turning point in Meng Tang’s work.

By the time she was fifteen, her piece Spirit Cat Pouncing on a Butterfly was already vivid and lifelike, and her Cicada at seventeen was even more strikingly realistic.

“Do you sell any of these?” Wei Chuan asked, itching to make an offer. “I like this cicada.”

Meng Tang shook her head. “People have offered high prices before, but Grandpa refuses to sell any of them.”

Wei Chuan sighed regretfully. “A treasure beyond price, then.”

Meng Tang smiled.

“I have a question,” Wei Chuan said. “If the old man won’t let you create pieces in college, why did you agree to help me carve something for a confession?”

Meng Tang chuckled. “Actually, I wasn’t planning to charge you. I deliberately inflated the price at the time, who knew you’d agree?”

Wei Chuan blinked. “So, you weren’t going to take my money?”

Meng Tang smirked. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’ll still charge you for the material cost.”

Carving objects at school didn’t conflict with her grandfather’s demands, she could treat it as an assignment.

She understood the old man’s meaning: utilitarian motives couldn’t breathe life into dead wood.

“So, you’ll come back after graduation?”

Meng Tang nodded. “Come back to get married and have children.”

“What?” Wei Chuan wondered if he’d misheard. “Say that again.”

Meng Tang blinked. “Come back to get married and have children. After four years of honing my craft, my graduation piece must make a name for me. Following Grandpa’s wishes, I’ll carry on the traditional art of boxwood carving. If I don’t have kids, who will I pass it on to? Apprentices are an option, but talent has genetic advantages, it’s also shaped by environment.”

Wei Chuan was stunned. “What about Xu Heqing?”

Meng Tang: “…You’re asking me?”

Wei Chuan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You’re the one who likes him. Who else would I ask?”

Meng Tang: “…That’s only if he’s willing.”

“So, if he’s not, you’ll just come back and marry anyone?” Wei Chuan felt inexplicably irritated. “You’re not just playing around with my friend, are you?”

Meng Tang frowned. “Playing around? I just have a bit of a crush. It’s not like I’m planning anything serious. What parents would accept their son following me back to Yanqing after graduation?”

Wei Chuan pressed, “You could stay in Z City, though. Xu Heqing plans to settle there. If you like him, why not confess?”

“My grandfather is getting old,” Meng Tang said, giving him a sidelong glance. “He can’t leave this place. I’m both his granddaughter and his apprentice, respecting my teacher, upholding tradition, passing on the craft, continuing the family line… it’s all on me.”

Wei Chuan opened his mouth but couldn’t find a rebuttal.

Meng Tang’s palm ached, and after talking with Wei Chuan for so long, her throat felt dry.

Noticing her discomfort, Wei Chuan urged her to rest.

Left sitting under the eaves, Wei Chuan was addressed by the old man: “How’s Xiao Tang’s injury?”

“If you’re concerned, why not ask her yourself?” Wei Chuan retorted, lifting his gaze.

The old man shot him a look, the arch of his brow eerily similar to Meng Tang’s. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you. Bet you got whipped a lot at home.”

Wei Chuan scoffed. “Wrong guess. No one dares mess with me at home.”

His tone was bold, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Quite the little tyrant,” the old man remarked, subtly fishing for information across the stone table in the courtyard. “What does your family do?”

Wei Chuan said listlessly, “Just some small businesses. Right now, my eldest sister and my dad are managing the group’s affairs.”

The old man: “…”

Small businesses? A group?

“Eldest sister?” The old man pondered. “How many sisters do you have?”

“Three.”

The old man feigned disdain. “Oh, still favoring sons over daughters, huh?”

Wei Chuan, preoccupied with his own thoughts, automatically ignored the remark and suddenly looked up. “Old man, is Meng Tang really coming back to get married after graduation?”