To Sweep Across Like Wildfire - Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The next morning, as soon as the alarm rang, Shen Qingruo woke up. Her body felt incredibly sore and weak; her legs even trembled slightly when she tried to step out of bed.

Don’t be fooled by the “kid’s” persona as a soft little rabbit outside the sheets; once in bed, she turned into a ferocious wolf cub. Shen Qingruo chided herself for her short memory—she knew the kid wasn’t one to be trifled with, yet she kept teasing her until those eyes turned red. Being pounced on without a word, her “old bones” felt like they had nearly been torn to pieces.

I really want to sleep more. I really don’t want to work.

Rubbing her slender waist, Shen Qingruo tiptoed to the sofa and picked up her skirt, which had nearly been shredded. In the process, she accidentally knocked over the sketchbook tucked in the corner.

A crack was left open in the window, letting in a warm breeze that gently lifted the patterned curtains. As light spilled into the room, it quickly brightened.

Shen Qingruo dressed quietly, not wanting to wake the other person who hadn’t slept long either. As she zipped up, she picked up the open sketchbook from the floor. Her eyes inadvertently skimmed the page, and she froze.

Yesterday, she had seen Meng Chi drawing a man on the grass. But the drawing she was looking at now—

A woman sat at the head of a bed looking at her phone, her brow slightly furrowed. She wore a thin black nightgown, one strap slipping down her shoulder, unheeded. Her legs were long and slender, stretched out and crossed at the ankles. On her heel, there was a tiny, specific mark.

Shen Qingruo used the dim light to check her own foot. There was indeed a red friction mark on her heel from wearing high heels for several days to see clients. It didn’t hurt, so she hadn’t noticed it until now.

She thought for a moment, took a photo of the sketch with her phone, then placed the book back exactly as she had found it.

…

2:00 PM, Xiling Plaza Office.

Xie Zhen pushed her laptop away with a groan, her chair creaking as she reclined to escape the torture of work. Rubbing her stomach, she said to the person next to her, “I’m done. My brain is flatlining. I need carbohydrates.”

Shen Qingruo had long anticipated another failure in Xie Zhen’s dieting career. However, she was too busy to joke; her eyes were glued to her screen as one hand flew across the keyboard and the other tossed her phone accurately into Xie Zhen’s lap. “Order takeout yourself.”

“Old Shen, sometimes you truly touch my heart,” Xie Zhen said. “Do you want something? You only had a sandwich for lunch.”

“Get me an iced Americano. No sugar.”

“You’ve already had three cups of instant coffee. What’s going on? Were you out moonlighting as a thief last night?”

“Shh.” Shen Qingruo didn’t look up, her expression serious but her tone light. “Don’t ask. I’m afraid the answer will make you sad.”

Xie Zhen: “…” “Fine,” Xie Zhen gritted out. “I’ll buy you a dozen coffees.”

As she was placing the order, a notification popped up on Shen Qingruo’s WeChat. “Old Chen is asking if you’ve hired a new artist yet. He’s about to cave under the pressure.”

“Almost forgot. I circled some detail issues in the work he did yesterday. Send those screenshots to him,” Shen Qingruo said. “Tell him that the moment of crisis is the ultimate test of one’s resolve and courage. Tell him to grit his teeth and not let go—we must plant the flag of victory on the summit. Also, tell him there’s a raise coming after this phase. Definitely a raise.”

“Only that last sentence sounds human.” Xie Zhen opened the photo gallery to find the screenshots. When she saw the most recent image, she let out a surprised “Huh?” and shoved the screen toward Shen Qingruo. “This is good! Did the new artist draw this?”

It was the sketch of the woman sitting on the bed.

Shen Qingruo’s gaze flickered to the photo for a split second, remembering she’d taken it that morning. “No.”

“But isn’t this you? It’s so vivid… it has a certain… vibe. Who drew it?”

“The kid from the bar.”

Xie Zhen caught on immediately. “She’s an art student?”

“Seems so. I picked her up from Xiling Academy last night, we went for hotpot, and then…”

“Stop right there. I don’t want to hear it,” Xie Zhen rejected her flatly, her eyes lingering on the faint red marks on Shen Qingruo’s neck.

Shen Qingruo leaned back, a faint smile playing on her lips. To Xie Zhen, that smile looked “morally bankrupt.” She thought it was a blessing that this shameless woman was too busy working to brag about her “achievements” from last night.

…

At the same time, Long Lake.

As the school bus pulled into the parking lot, students began gathering their gear. Meng Chi’s roommates saw she was still asleep and gently nudged her. “Why so tired? Were you clubbing all night?”

Meng Chi rubbed her reddened eyelids. Actually, last night was pretty similar to clubbing, she thought.

She packed her things and followed them off the bus. The parking lot was adjacent to Long Lake Park. A few steps away lay the picturesque lake, its surface shimmering with light and dotted with tour boats. Pedestrians strolled leisurely under the shade of the trees.

The class teacher hadn’t come, so Meng Chi, as the class monitor, was responsible for the group. Seeing everyone’s excitement, she simply announced the meeting time, warned them not to swim or do anything dangerous near the water, and dismissed them.

She and her close friends found a spot with a wide view and sat under the shade to begin painting.

Twenty minutes later, a roommate stretched and reached for her phone. She glanced at the others and saw Meng Chi sitting nearby with headphones on, painting serenely.

The roommate’s gaze fell on Meng Chi’s hand. “Meng Chi, why are you painting with your left hand?”

This caused the others to stop and look. Without looking up, Meng Chi said calmly, “Just trying out the left hand.”

Once they looked away, she gently massaged her aching right wrist. Last night… I overused this hand.

Beiyuan Academy was full of talent, and many could paint with both hands. Though Meng Chi wasn’t a lefty, her left-handed work was almost indistinguishable from her right.

Halfway through, Meng Chi decided to take a break. She pulled out the sketch from the hotel—the one of the seductive woman looking at her phone. She refined the details, her ears burning as she recalled the previous night.

After some thought, she blurred the woman’s facial features so she wouldn’t be easily recognized. She took a photo, opened Weibo, and looked at the “Share something new…” box. After another moment of hesitation, she typed a single word: “Night.” She attached the sketch and posted it.

Comments came quickly. One user, “Xiao Sui” (a nickname derived from her handle “Random Drawing 417”), asked if it was a self-portrait. Meng Chi replied, “I’m here.”

She read through the comments—some called the woman mysterious, others praised the aesthetic. Every time she read a compliment, she looked at the drawing again. Ten minutes later, she forced herself to stop. If I keep looking, I’ll never finish today’s assignment.

…

That evening, she checked Weibo again and found her followers had jumped by dozens. The post had been shared by a major art blogger.

While she was checking her notifications, a WeChat friend request popped up. The name was “Won’t Change Name Until I’m 95 lbs,” with the message: “Hi Meng, I’m Xie Zhen. We met before. Shen Qingruo is my ‘old daughter’.”

The ’98 Little Tiger. Meng Chi immediately made the connection and accepted. “Hello.”

“Hi! You remember me, right?” Xie Zhen replied instantly.

“I do.” After a pause, Meng Chi added, “Is there something I can help you with?”

Meng Chi rarely added strangers without a reason. Because Xie Zhen was Shen Qingruo’s friend, she was more patient.

“Nothing much,” Xie Zhen replied. “Are you an art student?”

“Yes,” Meng Chi replied. “Why?”

While waiting for a reply, Meng Chi tapped Xie Zhen’s profile picture and noticed her Moments had a new post from five minutes ago.

Worked all day, more tomorrow. So tired. Out for some air. Image Image

The first was a bar interior; the second was a profile shot of a woman with her face partially turned away.

Under the post was a comment from rr: “I’m so beautiful.” Xie Zhen replied to rr: “You always hide when I take photos. Try not hiding next time.” rr: “Last time you made my face look like a basin. I’ll show my face when you learn how to edit photos.”

rr was Shen Qingruo.

Meng Chi went back to the chat. Xie Zhen had replied: “Let’s hang out sometime.”

Xie Zhen had asked for Meng Chi’s WeChat because she wanted to ask for a portrait, but she wanted to get to know her a bit first so it wouldn’t be awkward. Meng Chi didn’t look into the reason; she just saw the location Xie Zhen had shared and felt a pull.

It was free time after returning from the park. Meng Chi packed her bag and headed out. Xiling Academy was near several bar streets. Guided by the GPS, she turned into a narrow alley. Despite the noise nearby, the dark alley felt a bit unsettling.

Just around this corner, she thought.

Suddenly, she saw the glow of a cigarette. A woman was leaning against the wall.

She wore a bodycon fishtail skirt with an irregular hem that revealed glimpses of her fair, long legs. She held a cigarette between her fingers. Hearing footsteps, her gaze flickered over, and her frosty expression instantly thawed into warmth.

Shen Qingruo smiled. “Kid, I was just thinking of you, and here you are.”