The Sickly Double Doesn't Want to Be Spoiled - Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Lu Cong personally handled the arrangements for his mentor’s 70th birthday banquet.

At six in the evening, Meng Yuan appeared in the banquet hall lobby, linked arm-in-arm with Lu Cong.

The hall was vast and bright, with an extremely high dome reflecting a cold, pure white light. A faint fragrance floated in the air. Subconsciously, Meng Yuan tightened his grip on Lu Cong’s sleeve.

Lu Cong glanced at him. “Surely you’re not nervous?”

“Huh?”

Meng Yuan looked up, his delayed reaction answering the question for him.

He coughed to cover his tracks. “I’m alright…”

After all, it was a first.

In Meng Yuan’s own life, this was the first time he had attended such a banquet; in the world of the novel, this was the first time he and Lu Cong had appeared in public together since the official announcement of the Lu and Meng family alliance.

No matter how you looked at it, a little nervousness was normal, right?

He wasn’t a “showy peacock” who enjoyed the limelight like Lu Cong.

By now, Lu Cong was already holding Meng Yuan’s hand, greeting and making small talk with the guests who came forward to offer congratulations. He was naturally like a fish in water in these settings.

Meng Yuan, however, felt awkward. He wasn’t used to being watched by countless pairs of eyes, nor was he used to being stared at like a protagonist.

He wasn’t even the protagonist of this book to begin with, was he?

Meng Yuan couldn’t figure out why he was here, but it seemed that ever since he transmigrated into this book, he had been inexplicably pushed along by the plot.

And it was always the parts of the plot he thought shouldn’t be happening.

“Why are you spacing out again?” Lu Cong whispered in his ear. “Are you unwell or just staring into space?”

Meng Yuan rubbed the tip of his nose sheepishly and answered honestly, “Just staring into space. Sorry.”

Lu Cong: “…”

His original intention was to let Meng Yuan go rest if he felt unwell; a lounge had been set up upstairs with comfortable bedding and surroundings.

However, Meng Yuan was too honest. He didn’t catch the subtext at all, instead admitting shyly that he was simply dazed.

Lu Cong felt like sighing.

For once in his life, he had shown a bit of kindness, only for it to end in failure because he was too subtle.

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” he said.

Gazes from all directions were fixed on them. Lu Cong was indifferent; he had lived under such scrutiny since birth.

But Meng Yuan was different. Lu Cong could clearly sense that Meng Yuan’s nerves were taut. When the boy smiled, his lips were pulled into a stiff, straight line, making him look a bit silly.

If the media captured this moment and published it, people would probably think he had married a wife who wasn’t very bright.

Not that he was looking down on Meng Yuan.

“If you still have the energy, come with me to see my teacher,” Lu Cong said. “Didn’t you bring a gift for him?”

Oh right!

Meng Yuan remembered—the abstract painting Jiang Minhui had specifically taken him to bid for last time.

Meng Yuan straightened up. “I definitely have to go.”

Professor Zou was the star of today’s banquet and Lu Cong’s mentor. In the future, he would also be the witness at their wedding. Meng Yuan had to go pay his respects no matter what.

One couldn’t lack such basic manners.

He even solemnly straightened his collar. “Let’s go.” Then, he suddenly realized his hands were empty.

“Where’s my painting?!”

He cried out in shock.

One of his hands was held by Lu Cong, and the other was spread open before his eyes—empty!

He flipped his hand over and back; aside from the massive, diamond-encrusted sapphire ring, there was nothing!

Where was the painting?

That painting that was incredibly ugly, indecipherable, but insanely expensive—where was it?!

Lu Cong: “?”

Lu Cong: “!”

He watched as Meng Yuan stopped halfway, stared at the “pigeon egg” ring on his hand for a moment, and then his hair practically stood on end from stress.

Lu Cong quickly pressed a hand down on the boy’s head.

“What do I do, Mr. Lu? My painting, I seem to—mmph?”

Lu Cong covered his mouth.

Meng Yuan was left with a pair of very nervous and guilty eyes.

Lu Cong: “Didn’t you notice your hands were empty when we left the house?”

With his mouth covered, Meng Yuan couldn’t speak and nodded vigorously.

He noticed!

But he only realized it just now.

He pried Lu Cong’s hand away a little. “I left it at home.”

Lu Cong: “…”

He took a deep breath. “The assistant will deliver the gift to the designated location for you.”

As the words fell, Meng Yuan froze.

His “exploded” hair miraculously settled back down.

Lu Cong couldn’t help but steal a few more glances, deeply puzzled by this bizarre phenomenon.

Meng Yuan breathed a sigh of relief.

He still lacked experience; he hadn’t realized that in his current position, he didn’t need to personally haul bags and boxes to a banquet.

“I’m sorry…” Meng Yuan said softly.

He would slowly get used to it.

Lu Cong’s brow furrowed imperceptibly. “I told you, there’s no need to apologize for these small things.”

He led Meng Yuan into the elevator. “Professor Zou was my university teacher, and also my mother’s teacher. He watched me grow up. The first book I ever read was given to me by him; the first life lesson I learned was taught by him.”

“He presided over my parents’ wedding, and also my mother’s funeral,” Lu Cong said. “He is my teacher, but to me, he is more than just a teacher.”

Meng Yuan couldn’t help but look at Lu Cong.

Lu Cong rarely spoke so much at once. His tone was steady, devoid of much emotion.

For some strange reason, Meng Yuan felt like the other man was introducing him to some basic “world-building”—facts that were common knowledge in this world, but which Meng Yuan didn’t know.

Meng Yuan felt a slight tremor in his heart, and a ripple of emotion surfaced in his eyes as he looked at Lu Cong.

Lu Cong didn’t look down; his gaze remained steady, looking straight ahead.

Meng Yuan just kept staring at him.

Lu Cong was used to all kinds of gazes lingering on him, but that didn’t mean he could equally and completely ignore every single one.

For instance, right now, the boy’s gaze was too intense, burning against his skin. Even someone like Lu Cong felt a flicker of unease.

“Are you staring at me like that because you’re expecting to hear more from me?”

He turned to look at Meng Yuan. That flicker of unease vanished instantly, replaced by a direct, composed gaze that looked straight into Meng Yuan’s eyes, forcefully pushing back the boy’s burning stare.

Meng Yuan shrunk back again, lowering his eyelashes and shaking his head gently. “No…”

Ding!

The elevator doors opened.

Lu Cong took Meng Yuan’s hand again, tucking it into the crook of his arm, and walked toward his mentor’s lounge.

…

After meeting the teacher, presenting the gift, and chatting politely for a while, the sky had begun to dim by the time they came out.

Meng Yuan released Lu Cong’s arm and said to him, “I want to go to the restroom.”

“Go ahead,” Lu Cong said. “There’s a lounge on the third floor. If you’re tired, you can go lie down for a bit. You don’t need to accompany me for the rest of the social interactions.”

Meng Yuan was overjoyed. He hadn’t expected to be able to “clock out” so soon.

“Okay!” He was so happy he couldn’t hide the volume of his voice.

Lu Cong: “…”

Was not being with him really that exciting for this guy? Lu Cong narrowed his eyes.

“I—I mean,” Meng Yuan lowered his voice. “What a shame.”

He grinned, but his acting wasn’t very good.

Lu Cong felt like sighing again and waved Meng Yuan away.

One second, the boy looked as weak as if he couldn’t walk; the next second, he had vanished without a trace.

Lu Cong: “.”

…

Coming out of the restroom, Meng Yuan lingered by the elevator for a moment but was drawn to the scenery on the terrace.

Many flowers were planted there—row upon row of sunflowers.

After the sun went down, the sky wasn’t completely dark yet. The dense, deep blue sky looked like a heavy canvas, framing the sunflowers as they swayed in the evening breeze.

Meng Yuan couldn’t help but walk out.

With the daytime heat gone, the night breeze was refreshing.

Near the railing on the terrace stood a table and a few chairs. There was even a bottle of red wine on the table. It seemed like a nice place to drink and chat.

Meng Yuan didn’t sit. He leaned on the railing for a while and yawned.

Behind him, the glass door was pushed open softly. Meng Yuan turned around and saw someone he didn’t recognize.

But the person clearly recognized him, and the look in his eyes was far from friendly.

“Meng Yuan,” the man walked up to him. “I’ve finally caught you.”

He was dressed in a suit and leather shoes, his hair slicked back and shiny. His outfit was clearly expensive; he was also a guest at the banquet.

“Nothing you want to say to me?”

The response he got was an eerie silence.

Meng Yuan had no idea who this person was, but from the few words spoken, it sounded like there was a grudge.

He couldn’t help but sigh at the heavens—what kind of people did the original owner provoke every day?

“I’m sorry,” Meng Yuan said sincerely. “What I’m about to say might make you unhappy or even feel insulted, but please believe me when I say I don’t mean it that way.”

The man’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t expected Meng Yuan to speak like this and felt a bit curious. “What are you going to say?”

“I am definitely not provoking you,” Meng Yuan emphasized again, then asked, “What is your name, and what does your family do?”

“…?”

The person opposite him was momentarily incensed.

His expression shifted several times before he suddenly burst out laughing.

“What, now that you’ve latched onto Lu Cong, you think you’re someone different? Everyone who comes before you has to announce their name first?” He took a step forward and straightened his collar. “Guangfa Real Estate, Du Xiangli. Well? Am I qualified to speak to you?”

“Hold on a second,” Meng Yuan pulled out his phone and began typing furiously while asking, “What did I do to you?”

He sent a message to Song Zhen: [Who is more powerful, Guangfa Real Estate or you guys?]

“What did you do?” Du Xiangli laughed. “Last time at the KTV, you hit the ‘kitten’ I was keeping. I haven’t settled that score with you yet, and now you’re trying to play dumb?”

“What?”

Meng Yuan snapped his head up.

Hit a cat?

Even though he had no memories and wasn’t familiar with the original owner, the original owner’s phone was full of pictures of small animals. The original owner liked animals and would absolutely never abuse one.

“Impossible,” Meng Yuan said decisively. “How could I have hit your cat? Besides, KTVs don’t allow pets. That kind of environment is terrible for kittens!”

He was actually getting a little angry as he spoke.

He was someone who had worked as a cleaner in a bar; he knew the rules of these places better than anyone. This guy named Du could forget about trying to trick him with a few lies.

Even if, by some miracle, he could bring a kitten into a KTV, then this man was scum for not protecting the animal!

“You…”

Du Xiangli’s face turned various shades of green and white, looking as though Meng Yuan had forcibly stuffed a fly into his mouth. He looked sick with disgust.

“Are you f***ing out of your mind?!” He cursed loudly.

“Do you act this stupid in front of Lu Cong too?!”

Meng Yuan: “?”

…

[Of course we are more powerful.]

Song Zhen replied without hesitation.

Lu Cong was currently chatting with Mr. Du, the owner of Guangfa Real Estate. Song Zhen stepped forward, leaned in, and whispered in his ear:

“Young Master Meng is likely the eldest son of Guangfa Real Estate right now. There’s a bit of a conflict.”

Lu Cong’s expression didn’t change. He raised his glass to Mr. Du, signaling for him to wait a moment, and led Song Zhen a few steps to the side.

“What’s going on?”

Song Zhen showed Lu Cong the message from a minute ago and added, “Two months ago, Young Master Meng beat up the male model the eldest Du son was sponsoring.”

Then he saw Lu Cong’s expression undergo a subtle, peculiar change.