To Sweep Across Like Wildfire - Chapter 14

Chapter 14

There was no way around it. Meng Chi had ordered the spicy pot herself, and as an adult, she had to take responsibility for her actions.

So, she ate.

Shen Qingruo hadn’t eaten all day, and combined with the “intense exercise” she’d just shared with Meng Chi in the car, she was famished. After devouring a few pieces of tender beef, she finally felt her energy return, and her rusty brain began to function again.

She noticed that although Meng Chi had been eating for a while, the food in her bowl never seemed to decrease, while her water glass was refilled over and over.

Shen Qingruo watched her for a moment, then signaled a waiter and whispered a few words in his ear.

Three minutes later, two waiters arrived. One carried a split “Mandarin Duck” pot.

Meng Chi looked up, bewildered. Her cheeks were flushed, a light sweat covered her face, and her thin lips were a vivid, burning red from the spice.

“I’ve scooped out all the ingredients; you can take the old pot away,” Shen Qingruo said. “Sorry for the trouble.”

These were the same waiters they had chatted with at the door. One picked up the red-oil pot while the other swapped in the split pot and turned up the heat. “No problem at all! Our red-oil base is indeed very spicy. Many customers find it too much and ask to switch to clear broth halfway through.”

One waiter glanced at Meng Chi and added, “Your sister saw you couldn’t handle the heat and asked us to switch. Your sister is really good to you.”

While waiting for the pot to boil again, Shen Qingruo saw Meng Chi bowing her head to finish what was left in her bowl. “Don’t eat that,” she said. “You’ll ruin your stomach.”

Seeing the clear broth start to simmer, she gracefully picked up some green vegetables and slid them in leaf by leaf. “It’ll be ready in a second. Just eat from the clear side.”

Even though she was hungry and had to deal with the mid-meal interruption, Shen Qingruo showed no sign of impatience. Nor did she ask Meng Chi why she’d chosen the spicy pot if she couldn’t handle it. It was as if she already knew the answer.

Meng Chi felt she had hidden her weakness well and was embarrassed to have been caught. Fearing further questions and having nothing else to do, she buried her head in her food to avoid making eye contact.

Though Shen Qingruo loved to tease her, she also knew when not to push someone into a corner. She didn’t ask Meng Chi if she actually liked hotpot or why she’d invited her out for it if she didn’t.

Relieved by the lack of interrogation, Meng Chi gave a soft “oh” and stopped eating the spicy leftovers, accepting a glass of plum juice from the older woman.

Shen Qingruo placed some cooked greens onto a fresh plate and pushed it across the table. “Actually, I’m not a very observant person,” she said slowly. “I miss a lot of things. So you have to tell me what you want and what you don’t want. That’s the only way I’ll know.”

“Oh.”

“I won’t make your sauce this time. Go make one yourself.”

After taking a bite, Shen Qingruo saw Meng Chi sitting still. “What’s wrong?”

Meng Chi chewed on a leaf and muttered, “I don’t like dipping sauce.”

The first person I’ve seen who eats hotpot without sauce, Shen Qingruo thought. Then she smiled to herself. Fine, this kid—one second she learns about the ‘direct approach,’ the next she’s using it to hide her pickiness. She’s a quick learner.

The restaurant remained busy even as midnight approached. They chatted intermittently, focusing mostly on the food, until well past twelve.

It was the first time Meng Chi had stayed out this late for hotpot, and the first time she’d felt so… refreshed. The food was excellent—it definitely ranked in her personal top three.

At first, the spicy pot had numbed her tongue so much she couldn’t taste a thing. But once they switched to the clear broth, she could finally appreciate the fresh ingredients. Without realizing it, she ate quite a lot.

“You two sisters finished?” A familiar waiter passed by as they were packing up.

“All finished,” Shen Qingruo replied warmly, noticing the waiter had changed into street clothes. “Heading off shift?”

“Yes, finally!” The waiter waved as he headed for the exit. “Be safe on your way home with your little sister.”

Shen Qingruo said, “You stay safe too,” and heard the “kid” beside her echo the sentiment, seemingly accepting the “sisters” label without protest.

Meng Chi seemed oblivious, simply turning to her to ask, “Could you pass me the tissues?”

To Meng Chi, the polite reply to the waiter was just a reflex, nothing more.

Shen Qingruo picked up the tissue box, twirled it in her hand, and gave her a mischievous smile. Her reddened lips parted slightly. “Call me ‘Sister,’ and I’ll give it to you.”

The hotpot had been turned off, but the residual heat still sent wisps of steam upward. Meng Chi’s young, delicate face was blurred by the mist. Her eyes looked moist and slightly red at the edges, making her look like a vulnerable little rabbit—yet there was a stubborn glint in her gaze.

She met Shen Qingruo’s eyes, her lips pressed into a firm line. She didn’t speak.

Feeling a bit silly for the childish prank, Shen Qingruo handed over the box. “Don’t be mad. Here you go.”

Meng Chi pulled out a tissue and wiped her brow, mumbling, “I’m not mad.”

Shen Qingruo was significantly older than her, so calling her “Sister” (Jie) was objectively appropriate. But when that woman looked at her like that… she just couldn’t bring herself to say it.

…

Shen Qingruo assumed Meng Chi was a local Xiling student and, seeing how late it was, didn’t ask questions. She simply drove her back to the hotel she had booked earlier.

Meng Chi didn’t protest, assuming Shen Qingruo wanted to…

Upon entering the hotel room and connecting to the Wi-Fi, Meng Chi finally checked her messages. She found a message from Teacher Tian sent three hours ago on QQ.

In the Wheat Field: [Image] Did you draw this today? In the Wheat Field: The lines are much more fluid than before. Good job. There are still some detail issues, though.

The image was the sketch of the man on the grass she’d done at Xiling that afternoon.

Meng Chi had left the sketch in the studio and hadn’t expected Teacher Tian to see it. At first, her heart tightened—remembering the scolding from a few days ago, she thought she was in trouble again. But as she re-read the message, she realized she was being praised.

The compliment acted like a shot of adrenaline. She paced the room happily and, while Shen Qingruo was showering, she dashed down to the 24-hour convenience store to buy a sketchbook and pencils.

Shen Qingruo hadn’t actually planned on doing anything “extra” tonight. She only showered to get the smell of hotpot out of her hair. When she emerged, she saw the kid sitting cross-legged on the sofa, sketching intently.

Definitely an art student, she thought. Up until now, she hadn’t asked much about Meng Chi’s life; hearing her talk about stocks before, she’d assumed she was an economics major.

She glanced at the sketchbook. The lines were fluid and showed strong foundational skill. “That’s quite good,” she praised, drying her hair. “When are you going to draw me?”

She immediately shook her head and walked away. “Never mind. I can’t sit still long enough to be a model.”

Meng Chi’s heart stirred. She watched Shen Qingruo’s slender silhouette, flipped to a fresh page, and after a moment’s hesitation, her pencil began to fly across the paper.

For the next hour, they occupied their own corners of the room. Shen Qingruo sat on the bed handling work emails, while Meng Chi sat on the sofa drawing. The atmosphere was quiet and harmonious.

An hour later, Shen Qingruo rubbed her stiff neck and looked up, suddenly remembering someone else was in the room.

“Stop drawing and go shower,” she teased, rubbing the tip of her nose. “I can smell the hotpot on you from here.”

Meng Chi flushed. “Oh.” She stood up, quickly closing her sketchbook and sliding it to the far side of the sofa, seemingly worried the older woman might see it.

Shen Qingruo didn’t notice. “I know you don’t like using hotel amenities,” she added, recalling their previous stays. “I have a fresh towel in my suitcase. And if you want, you can wear my nightgown—the light gray one. I’ve only worn it once.”

After a moment of hesitation, Meng Chi’s germaphobia won out over her shyness. She walked over to the suitcase. She didn’t even realize that to her, Shen Qingruo was technically a stranger whose background she didn’t know—yet she felt no instinct to pull away.

“I usually don’t bring a suitcase for one or two days of work,” Shen Qingruo explained, “but I’m here for a longer stint this time.”

Meng Chi thought: Is her job that hard? Always traveling? Her eyes grazed over the personal items in the suitcase, and she felt her face heat up. Once she grabbed what she needed, she practically bolted into the bathroom.

When Meng Chi emerged in the light gray silk nightgown, she felt a bit self-conscious, though the style was simple enough.

Shen Qingruo was about 170cm, slightly shorter than Meng Chi, so the gown fit reasonably well.

By the time Meng Chi finished, Shen Qingruo had finished her work and was nearly asleep. Hearing a soft movement by the bed, she opened her eyes. Seeing the girl in her own nightgown made her drowsiness vanish instantly.

Thinking Shen Qingruo was asleep, Meng Chi moved softly. Seeing her open her eyes, she whispered, “Should I turn off the light?”

Shen Qingruo hummed an “Mhm” and rolled over to make room.

After turning off the light, Meng Chi climbed into bed carefully. Her mind was still racing with the unfinished sketch, the inspiration refusing to die down. She began “drawing” in her head. After a moment, her hand drifted up, her fingertips hovering inches above the other woman’s skin. She traced the silhouette of Shen Qingruo’s body in the air, silent and invisible.

Shen Qingruo opened and closed her eyes several times. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she turned over.

…

Over an hour later, Meng Chi whispered softly in her ear:

“Sister…”