Any Closer and I'll Lose Control - Chapter 45

Wei Chuan felt a pang of guilt and took a long moment to reply:

[I was afraid they’d break it if I left it in the dorm, so I took it home.]

Liang Heng’s impulsiveness was nothing new.

Meng Tang: […]

Wei Chuan didn’t know whether she believed him, but he believed himself.

Meng Tang wasn’t in a position to meddle in someone else’s confession, so after a brief exchange, the conversation ended.

Wei Chuan’s thumb slid slowly across his phone screen, aware that he hadn’t been acting like himself lately.

Shao Yiming and the others kept asking when he planned to confess and if he needed backup.

In the past, he would’ve pointed at them and said, “None of you are getting away.”

But recently, no matter how much they nagged, he kept making excuses.

When Tian Yu joked about him having a change of heart, his pulse inexplicably quickened.

When he saw the figurine Meng Tang had carved, his first thought wasn’t to give it away as part of a confession, it was to keep it for himself.

And that’s exactly what he did.

No one knew how guilty he felt when Meng Tang asked about it.

Yet he still found excuses for himself, after all, Xie Lingyin didn’t even like it.

Of course, Meng Tang had no idea what he was thinking. Her restoration work was nearing completion, and she expected to submit it by mid-month.

Her phone buzzed with a notification: a departmental lecture was scheduled for 7 PM next Monday in the auditorium.

The topic was related to wood carving. When she saw the speaker’s name, Meng Tang froze.

It was actually him!

For days, Meng Tang was distracted. By Monday, she was the first to arrive at the auditorium.

The front row was reserved for the speaker’s team, department heads, and media personnel.

Meng Tang chose a seat in the very center of the second row.

The auditorium quickly filled to capacity. The cold glow of the projector screen reflected in the depths of Meng Tang’s eyes.

The speaker, Li Hanjin, was elegant and poised, drawing hushed admiration from many female students.

The lecture’s theme was A Dialogue with Intangible Cultural Heritage, with a 15-minute Q&A session at the end.

Some asked if Li Hanjin was married, others about the boundaries of boxwood carving, and a few about the nature of wood and plasticity.

Meng Tang slowly raised her hand.

Li Hanjin gestured politely. “For our final question, please, the student in white. May I ask your name?”

Meng Tang stood and took the microphone passed to her.

“I’m Meng Tang, a sophomore in the Sculpture Department. My question for Mr. Li is: Do you believe wood has a soul?”

While everyone else addressed him as Professor Li, she called him Mr. Li, her tone laced with sharp undertones.

Li Hanjin smiled and countered, “What do you think?”

Meng Tang returned a faint smile. “When carving, if you encounter knots or wormholes, the wood guides your chisel to adapt, reshaping the design. That’s the soul of wood imparting its craft. Of course, I believe it does.”

Li Hanjin nodded. “I share your view.”

Meng Tang scoffed. “So, you think CNC-carved pieces have souls too? Or is your soul a limited-edition boxwood blind box with monthly sales exceeding a million?”

The room fell silent. No one missed the hostility in her words.

Xie Lingyin tugged at Meng Tang’s sleeve under the table, but Meng Tang didn’t budge, her gaze fixed on Li Hanjin.

Li Hanjin remained silent, but his assistant spoke up. “There’s no need for such hostility, student. Collaborating with certain brands doesn’t mean Mr. Li neglects traditional craftsmanship. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Are you saying the million-yuan collaborations were all hand-carved by Mr. Li?”

Anyone with half a brain knew that was impossible.

Li Hanjin stopped the assistant and said:

“Before, the leftover scraps were either thrown away or burned. I used them to make thousands of bookmarks, letting others feel the warmth of boxwood too. Isn’t that a way to carry on its legacy?”

Meng Tang fell silent for a moment and put down the microphone.

After the lecture ended, she didn’t return to the dorm with her roommates. Instead, she wandered aimlessly and ended up at the half-abandoned basketball court.

She knew Li Hanjin had followed her.

“The little girl’s all grown up now, doesn’t even greet her senior when she sees him,” Li Hanjin said with a smile as he slowly approached.

Meng Tang turned around on the steps. “Just because I didn’t speak earlier doesn’t mean I agree with you. Everyone has their own path, I can’t ruin yours.”

Li Hanjin: “Then, if we were still in the lecture hall, what would you have said?”

Meng Tang took a bookmark from her bag, snapped it in half, and showed it to him.

“Mr. Li, are you sure your customers know this is boxwood? And not some brand collaboration?”

“The cross-section is gray-white, with obvious glue marks. Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

Li Hanjin’s eyes widened in surprise. “This… this is pressed linden wood powder? Only the surface is boxwood. I really didn’t know they were cutting corners like this. I’ll look into it when I get back.”

“Whether you knew or not doesn’t matter. It has nothing to do with me anyway. I just don’t agree with your way of preserving tradition.”

She was about to walk past him when Li Hanjin suddenly called out, “Little junior.”

Meng Tang froze slightly. That term, “little junior”, hadn’t been used since four years ago.

Li Hanjin was seven years older than her, her childhood playmate and senior disciple.

Though he had entered the craft late, his talent was exceptional, and the old master often praised him.

But on Meng Tang’s 16th birthday, he was expelled from the school. To this day, she still didn’t know why.

The old master never spoke of it and forbade her from asking.

She never expected to see Li Hanjin again under these circumstances.

Li Hanjin sighed. “You won’t even call me ‘senior’ anymore?”

Meng Tang: “Once you left the school, you stopped being my senior.”

Knowing she was reluctant, Li Hanjin smiled. “Fine, if you won’t call me ‘senior,’ then call me ‘Brother Jin.’”

Meng Tang: “…”

“Are you still angry that I refused to admit my mistake back then?”

Meng Tang found it absurd and laughed mockingly. “I don’t even know what mistake you made.”

“It’s all in the past. If you don’t want to acknowledge me as your senior, can’t we at least be friends?”

Meng Tang said, “It’s late. I’m going back to the dorm.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of Master. He’s thousands of miles away.”

“If I’d committed some unforgivable sin in the industry, would I have achieved what I have now? Would Master have allowed me to rise to prominence?”

Meng Tang knew that much was true.

“It’s late. I’m going back.”

“Let’s have dinner tomorrow?”

“I’m busy.”

“Then when are you free?”

“Never.”

“Meng-”

Before he could finish saying “Tang,” Li Hanjin let out a pained cry as he was shoved backward.

Wei Chuan grabbed Meng Tang’s wrist and kicked Li Hanjin hard. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Meng Tang was stunned. Li Hanjin, equally dazed, pointed a trembling finger at Wei Chuan. “You!”

“You what? Harassing a female student at night like there’s no one around to stop you?”

Meng Tang’s heart sank. A basketball player throwing punches, this was bad. She grabbed Wei Chuan’s arm with both hands, trying to explain. “You’ve got it wrong. He wasn’t harassing me.”

“I saw it with my own two eyes,” Wei Chuan snapped. “Don’t be scared. Stay behind me.”

“He’s an expert invited by the institute to give a lecture. You’ve really got the wrong person.”

“…”

Wei Chuan stood frozen like a wooden chicken.