Any Closer and I'll Lose Control - Chapter 24

Wei Chuan returned to his dormitory at eleven o’clock. Training had ended at ten-thirty, and it took him half an hour to shower at the training facility before heading back.

Liang Heng and Li Zhuo were still playing video games when they saw him come in. Hurriedly, they said, “Chuan, last round. You go ahead and sleep.”

They didn’t dare delay Wei Chuan’s rest.

Wei Chuan gave a noncommittal “Mhm.” His phone was almost out of battery, so he plugged it in to charge. Unexpectedly, he saw a message from Meng Tang:

[I’ve pretty much learned all I can about basketball, so there’s no need to waste any more time on me. Your wooden carvings have been delayed long enough, I’ll finish them as soon as possible and return them to you. Wishing you success in your competitions.]

Wei Chuan instinctively tapped open the chat, but when he saw the time, he stopped himself. At this hour, she was probably already asleep.

Meng Tang was indeed asleep. The next morning, she checked her phone and saw that Wei Chuan hadn’t replied.

She woke up half an hour earlier than usual and went straight to the track, bringing four meal cards with her. After running two laps, she returned to the dorm with breakfast for all four of them.

She ate quickly, showered, and headed to class.

Today was an all-day woodcarving session. As Meng Tang stepped out of the elevator, she caught a glimpse of the teacher’s back just ahead of her.

Silently quickening her pace, she reached the classroom door when a furious shout, “Who did this?”, made her freeze mid-step.

Her heart lurched violently. Something told her this wasn’t good.

Pushing the door open, she saw the floor strewn with torn, scattered sketches, all painfully familiar.

Meng Tang’s mind went blank. “What happened?”

The teacher turned to her with a sigh. “Meng Tang, you’re here.”

Meng Tang asked, dazed, “Are these my competition sketches?”

The teacher nodded.

The girl closest to her spoke up. “When we came in, we found these design drafts scattered on the floor. Meng Tang, do you have backups?”

“I have digital backups,” Meng Tang said, her brow furrowed.

Even so, the physical drafts for the competition still needed to be recreated.

The teacher roared in fury, “Who the hell did this?”

The students flinched, then started talking over each other:

“Before the break, Tan Xi was in charge of the studio keys.”

“Not me,” Tan Xi snapped, glaring at the person who had pointed fingers at her. “If you suspect me, show me the proof.”

“But you’re the only one who has issues with Meng Tang.”

“That doesn’t mean I did it.”

She wasn’t that petty.

“Who knows?”

“You-”

“Enough!” the teacher cut in sharply. “The studio’s outer door only allows students in this major to swipe in. The students have one key, and security patrols every night. There are also cameras in the hallway. The school will investigate this, but if it was one of you, I suggest you come forward now.”

“Professor Wang, it’s bad!” A student assistant from the exhibition room rushed in.

“What now?”

“Someone vandalized the student works in the display collection.”

Meng Tang grabbed the assistant’s arm. “Which one?”

“The Blind Monk Listening to the Qin.”

Meng Tang shoved past and ran out, the others following in a wave.

On the display shelf in the exhibition room, The Blind Monk Listening to the Qin lay marred by deep, deliberate scratches, utterly ruined.

“Oh my god! Such a beautiful piece, what a shame!”

“Who has this much of a grudge against Meng Tang?”

“Who else? This was for the competition. The only real competition at our school is Tan Xi.”

“Don’t talk nonsense without evidence.”

“This is just low. Did they think destroying Meng Tang’s entry would guarantee them first place?”

Meng Tang stared at the damaged artwork for a long time, her chest aching dully. Swallowing the bitterness, she said calmly, “I’m going to call the police.”

“This…” The teacher hesitated.

Involving the police would affect the school’s reputation, and he truly couldn’t make this decision alone. He grabbed a student and whispered for them to fetch the dean.

“I’ll participate in the competition as planned, using this piece,” Meng Tang turned around, her gaze sweeping over her classmates. “I won’t let this matter rest.”

The students immediately began murmuring among themselves:

“She’s still going to compete? Is she crazy? The wood carving is ruined, can it even be repaired?”

“Her grandfather is Master Meng. He could probably fix it.”

“But the competition is for students. If Master Meng steps in, wouldn’t that be unfair to others?”

“…”

Ignoring the whispers, Meng Tang said, “Professor, I need you to sign the ‘Artwork Restoration Application Form.'”

The teacher was taken aback. “You know how to restore it?”

Meng Tang nodded. “I’ve learned a bit from my grandfather.”

“Good, good.” The teacher looked excited. “The dean will be here soon, he’ll handle this for you.”

No sooner had he spoken than Dean Chen Xunli arrived in a hurry.

“Meng Tang, come with me.”

She followed him out of the exhibition room.

Chen Xunli took a deep breath. “I’ve already heard about what happened on my way here. I understand how you feel, but could you reconsider calling the police? This involves the department’s reputation.”

“But I promise, even if we handle it internally, I’ll ensure you get a satisfactory outcome.”

“Take your piece to the Non-Heritage Restoration Lab in Building 21. I’ll call the lab director to arrange priority access, all equipment will be available to you free of charge, no prior booking needed.”

“However, you’ll need to record the restoration process. First, to document your participation in the competition, and second, for potential teaching purposes.”

“As for the person who damaged your work, the school will form an investigation team. Once identified, they will compensate you and apologize.”

Meng Tang remained silent for a long moment. Chen Xunli then softened his tone. “Little ancestor, little junior, do me this favor?”

Meng Tang took a step back, uncomfortable. “Dean, you’re not my senior. My grandfather never acknowledged you as his disciple.”

Chen Xunli played the nostalgia card. “I spent two or three years at your house when I was young, doesn’t that count? Don’t worry, your senior will make sure this is resolved properly.”

Meng Tang finally nodded. “As long as it doesn’t get swept under the rug, I’ll accept it.”

“Good. Wait for my update. You should head to class now.” He paused, then added, “Or if you’re not feeling up to it, skip class. I’ll let Professor Wang know.”

Meng Tang: “…No need. I’ll go to class.”

All morning, her mind wandered.

Only when the bell rang did she gather the damaged drafts into a folder and prepare to leave.

Most students had already gone, leaving the hallway empty. As she stepped outside, a voice laced with amusement reached her:

“No wonder you walk so slow. Your classmates are long gone, aren’t you hungry?”

Meng Tang looked up, surprised to see Wei Chuan. “What are you doing here?”

Her voice was quiet and subdued, weighed down by her mood.

“What’s wrong?” Wei Chuan stepped closer, pressing the back of his fingers to her forehead. “You seem off, are you sick?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” She dodged his touch and continued walking south.

“The cafeteria is right here. Where are you going?” Wei Chuan tugged at her arm. With a loud clatter, the folder fell to the ground, scattering broken drafts at their feet.

“This…” Wei Chuan crouched down, picking up one of the sheets. The lines were delicate and fluid, grand yet natural. “Why are they ruined?”

Meng Tang also knelt, gathering the pieces one by one.

Wei Chuan frowned. “What happened? Did someone bully you? Tell me, and I’ll take care of them.”

Meng Tang shook her head, lips pressed tightly together as she held back her distress.

Curled into herself, Wei Chuan couldn’t see her expression. He hastily gathered the fragments and handed them to her.

“What’s wrong?” he couldn’t help but ask again, his voice gentle, laced with concern and a hint of coaxing.

Meng Tang turned her head away, unwilling to let him see her tear-filled eyes.

But the tears didn’t stop, one landed on the folder with a soft plop.

Wei Chuan’s scalp prickled. She’s crying?