The Sickly Double Doesn't Want to Be Spoiled - Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Meng Yuan walked back slowly, forgetting that he had originally intended to go to the viewing platform to see the night view.

He didn’t know what he was thinking, only that his hands and feet felt a bit chilly, and he wanted to go back and drink some hot water to warm up.

Halfway there, he heard the sound of crying.

The crying was very suppressed, as if the person was afraid of being heard, desperately trying to hold it back but unable to.

Meng Yuan’s footsteps stopped.

He followed the sound toward the entrance of the emergency exit. Through the unclosed metal door, he saw someone squatting in the corner of the stairwell, shoulders shaking.

It was that waiter.

He was still wearing his uniform, squatting in the corner with his hands covering his face, trembling as he sobbed.

Standing next to him was a person in a black uniform looking on with indifference at the hotel manager.

“Please, manager,” the waiter’s voice was intermittent, “give me one more chance. I really didn’t do it on purpose. My family still… My mother is still in the hospital. I can’t lose this job…”

The manager’s expression was cold: “Do you think this is something I can decide? Master Andy personally gave the order. Can I go against him? Unless I don’t want to work here either.”

“I really didn’t do it on purpose,” the waiter choked out through his tears. “Or please give me another chance. You don’t have to step forward; I’ll go. I’ll go beg Master Andy myself!”

“Enough, stop being so persistent,” the manager said helplessly. “Who told you to cause such a big disaster? What kind of day is it? The big boss’s wedding banquet! You knew the moment you did that that this job was over. What are you trying to do by lingering now?”

“But I only dirtied a tiny bit of his sleeve…” The waiter seemed completely unable to understand why the manager was so heartless toward him. “The big boss didn’t even say anything at the time.”

The manager burst out laughing. “Do you expect him to fire you directly in front of so many guests? What would people think of him? That he’s making things difficult for a working man?”

“So he’s one way to your face and another behind.”

“Shut up!” the manager shouted sternly. “Who do you think you are? Get out of here, don’t make me call security.”

Standing outside the door, Meng Yuan watched this scene, his feet feeling as if they were nailed to the floor.

Just because he dirtied a tiny bit of a sleeve, he had to be driven away?

He didn’t lash out at the time, even showing gentle and considerate understanding, only to turn around and have the person fired?

Meng Yuan’s mind was a mess. He was so dizzy he could barely stand, so he reached out to support himself against the wall.

He remembered himself being like this before.

Working in a restaurant, a place where he had worked for a year.

Every day he was the first to arrive, opening the doors, ventilating, and cleaning. At night, he was the last to leave. He never made a mistake.

He worked very hard. The shop manager said that in another month, he would take over as the lobby manager. At that time, he almost thought that if he worked hard enough, he was about to make it.

In the end, simply because he served a dish to the wrong table, the lobby manager at the time pointed at his nose, gave him a foul-mouthed scolding, and fired him.

It was a very cold winter. He had just finished paying off that month’s debts, and he only had a few dozen yuan left in his pocket. He walked the streets, so poor he didn’t dare go back to sleep.

Finally, he ducked into a food stall, worked a night of odd jobs, and clutched the tiny bit of money he earned to go home and have an incredibly cold sleep.

The cold wind of those years seemed to blow out through the crack in the door now, chilling Meng Yuan to the bone.

Without almost any thought, he was about to push the door open to stand up for that waiter.

He was now someone who could stand up for others.

However, his arm was grabbed.

Meng Yuan turned around and saw Lu Cong standing behind him, his face blurred against the backlight.

“You…”

Meng Yuan opened his mouth, but before he could make a sound, he was grabbed by the arm and dragged away by Lu Cong.

Both were silent on the way until they were pulled into the first-floor lobby. Only then did Meng Yuan find the opportunity to break free from Lu Cong’s grip.

His arm ached from being pulled.

Lu Cong didn’t expect him to burst out with such great strength. He turned around, looking at him in surprise.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Meng Yuan covered his arm, his gaze shifting slightly. “Why did you pull me away?”

“And if I didn’t? Let you barge in?” Lu Cong emphasized his words. “Let you… go in and play the hero?”

Meng Yuan looked up suddenly, his eyes staring straight at him. Lu Cong felt these eyes were incredibly stubborn.

“What do you want to say?” he asked.

Meng Yuan instinctively said, “Nothing.”

Lu Cong pressed his brow, showing a faint sign of impatience. “Don’t always make me coax you into speaking.”

Meng Yuan clearly sensed the impatience beneath his steady tone. He froze slightly, then lowered his head.

He was too thin and always seemed burdened by worries. Even now, dressed like a pampered young master, he still didn’t look arrogant at all.

Lu Cong looked at the top of his black hair and his pale neck, realizing his tone was a bit harsh. A trace of regret rose in his heart.

“Meng Yuan…”

“Did you fire that waiter?” Meng Yuan suddenly spoke.

Lu Cong’s brow twitched, and the words at the tip of his tongue were pushed back down his throat.

He observed Meng Yuan as if he had noticed some unexpected emotion.

“Are you sympathizing with him?”

Lu Cong asked again as if in disbelief, “Are you sympathizing with him?”

Meng Yuan didn’t speak, but his expression betrayed him.

His eyes darted around. “I just…”

“Enough,” Lu Cong interrupted. “Don’t let me hear you showing kindness to that kind of person.”

Meng Yuan felt as if he had been stung. “What kind of person is ‘that kind of person’?”

Lu Cong looked at him, his expression turning completely cold. “People who are unmotivated, lack ability, don’t work hard, and only think about taking shortcuts.”

The car had long been waiting outside. Lu Cong didn’t seem prepared to say another word to him. He turned and walked straight toward the door.

“I still have things to do at the company,” he said. “Song Zhen will take you back.”

He didn’t stop walking. Under the driver’s guidance, he got into another car.

…

Meng Yuan was awakened by a call that seemed to come from far away.

The voice was very familiar and close at hand: “Young Master Meng, Young Master Meng? Are you alright?”

Meng Yuan woke up with a start and saw Song Zhen standing beside him, maintaining a polite distance of about half a meter, looking at him with concern.

“I,” Meng Yuan slowly recovered, his body still trembling a bit. “I’m fine.”

As if to prove he was in a good state, he squeezed out a smile for Song Zhen.

It was a very ugly smile.

Assistant Song had received the order to take Meng Yuan back alone. In the car, sitting in the passenger seat, he turned back from time to time to glance at Meng Yuan.

Meng Yuan remained silent, and unlike usual, he didn’t fall asleep as soon as he touched the seat back. He stared silently out the window.

But his eyes were unfocused. It looked like he was watching the scenery, but also like he had fallen into some memory, simply staring blankly with a hint of fear.

Song Zhen hesitated for a few seconds before speaking: “Young Master Meng, don’t overthink it. The Boss didn’t mean it that way.”

Meng Yuan didn’t respond. It took a few seconds for him to turn his head, appearing extremely slow to react, as if he hadn’t heard clearly: “What did you say?”

“I said,” Song Zhen repeated, “The Boss didn’t mean it that way. There might be a misunderstanding here.”

To his surprise, Meng Yuan actually laughed. The corners of his mouth turned up for a moment, then hurriedly pulled back.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I didn’t misunderstand. It wasn’t a particularly serious matter anyway.”

His tone was light, but the smile on his face was forced, as if he had instinctively squeezed it out to protect his fragile self-esteem.

This awkwardness couldn’t be hidden from the inside out. Song Zhen, of course, saw it at a glance.

Though he didn’t quite understand, he still took it seriously.

“I went to look into what happened just now,” he said. “The Boss wasn’t the one who ordered the waiter to be fired.”

Meng Yuan froze for a moment.

Song Zhen continued: “The hotel saw which way the wind was blowing and decided it themselves. You know the Boss doesn’t bother himself with such things at all, let alone go out of his way to target an employee.”

“But then again, since he won’t deliberately target someone, there’s even less reason for him to specifically ask the hotel to re-hire that waiter. Don’t you think so?”

Song Zhen paused, leaving a bit of time for Meng Yuan to digest this.

Meng Yuan sat with his hands clasped on his thighs, his body leaning slightly forward.

Song Zhen couldn’t see his expression; he could only see that his hands were gripping each other so tightly that his knuckles were white, and he didn’t relax.

“Besides, that waiter wasn’t that innocent,” Song Zhen hesitated for a moment but said it anyway.

Meng Yuan looked up, his eyes as clean as if they didn’t contain a single impurity. “What do you mean?”

Song Zhen chose his words carefully: “His job today was only for the restaurant on the 15th floor. The wedding banquet hall was not a place where he should have appeared.”

“Not… a place where he should have appeared?” Meng Yuan murmured, repeating the words.

“Exactly,” Song Zhen said. “The Boss cared a lot about this banquet. All the servers were carefully arranged. Even if someone got sick and needed a replacement, the manager would report to superiors for a re-arrangement. It’s impossible for a situation to occur where someone from the 15th floor like him suddenly ran in.”

Meng Yuan was lost in a brief daze.

He didn’t know much about such things, let alone have any personal experience. His interpersonal relationships in his previous life were very simple; the workers and colleagues he met were kind and honest people.

Because he had no time, he rarely even watched TV dramas. It was only after transmigrating to this world that he started watching more short dramas.

But he wouldn’t put dramatized content into real life at all.

“So,” he said softly, “so did I wrong him?”

Song Zhen smiled. “It’s not really ‘wronging’ him, just a small misunderstanding. It’s fine now that it’s been explained.”

His tone was as light as possible: “Things like this happened occasionally before. In the past, the Boss would turn a blind eye and let it pass. But now it’s different. You’re married, so your private life must be more rigorous. Otherwise, it would be letting you down.”

Meng Yuan had never found Song Zhen to be so eloquent.

His head was buzzing. First, he didn’t know how to respond.

Meng Yuan felt he must be running a fever. He was cold one moment and hot the next. His head ached, and his thoughts were a mess.

He held the handle and lowered his head, biting his lower lip for a moment. In a lapse of judgment, he instinctively asked: “Why didn’t he tell me directly?”

“…”

Song Zhen fell into a sudden silence for a second.

An awkwardness spread through the quiet air.

Meng Yuan reacted suddenly, as if he had snapped awake for a few seconds. He felt intense regret, and his ears turned burning hot.

The man, of course, had no obligation to explain anything to him.

He and Lu Cong had just signed a contract to get married for mutual benefit; it wasn’t like they had any real emotional foundation.

Even if this weren’t a misunderstanding, even if Lu Cong really were like a foolish tyrant from ancient times, killing the innocent at will it had nothing to do with Meng Yuan.

Meng Yuan realized he had no right to question someone else’s private affairs.

“I know, I know,” he waved his hand hurriedly. “Pretend I didn’t say that. Look at how this turned out—it was just a small misunderstanding.”

His face was pale, and he laughed with forced ease, trying hard to lighten the atmosphere.

Song Zhen also laughed awkwardly and echoed, “Yes, a small matter, a small matter.”

They arrived home, and the car slowly came to a stop in front of the villa.

Song Zhen got out to open the door for Meng Yuan. “I’ll see you inside.”

“No need,” Meng Yuan said, shrinking his neck as the cold wind hit him. “I’m at the door, I can go back myself. You go back to your work; thank you for your hard work today.”

It was indeed a bit cold outside. It was late at night, and it seemed like a few snowflakes were faintly drifting in the air.

Meng Yuan’s complexion was very bad, but he kept forcing a smile. Song Zhen didn’t dare let him stay in the cold wind too long, so he bowed slightly. “Alright, then I will take my leave.”

He didn’t leave immediately, however. He watched Meng Yuan enter the door and waited until the lights on the first floor turned on before instructing the driver to start the car.

[Young Master Meng has been delivered home safely.]

He reported to Lu Cong.

After a long time so long that Song Zhen thought Lu Cong wouldn’t respond, the phone screen lit up once.

[Good.]

A single word, so brief that no thoughts could be discerned.