To Sweep Across Like Wildfire - Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Next, Shen Qingruo and Meng Chi fought their way into the final circle. Although they didn’t “eat chicken” get first place, they secured a “chicken butt” second place.

Lao Da, who had originally uninstalled Peacekeeper Elite, had her fighting spirit reignited by their matches. After witnessing a miraculous shot by Meng Chi, she immediately re-downloaded the game, deciding to never give up and returning to the battlefield like a retired veteran.

After finishing that round, Shen Qingruo said she had some things to do and logged off.

The four roommates continued to play for several more rounds, grinding until after 3:00 AM. When they finally couldn’t hold their eyes open anymore, they retreated from the front lines.

…On the night before the sketching trip ended, Xie Zhen invited Meng Chi out for karaoke. Meng Chi arrived at the school gate before the appointed time.

Five minutes later, a sleek silver-white Porsche glided to a stop. Shen Qingruo, with one hand on the steering wheel and her other slender arm resting on the car door, looked at her with a beaming smile.

Meng Chi glanced at the car. She remembered her cousin had a similar model with a price tag of over 3 million yuan—about 200,000 or 300,000 more expensive than the one Shen Qingruo had been driving before.

“Didn’t I tell you last time to wait in the classroom?” Shen Qingruo said after Meng Chi got in.

Ten minutes ago, Meng Chi had felt a surge of restlessness, as if something was hanging in her heart, neither rising nor falling. She had simply packed up her sketches and walked to the gate. The moment she reached it, that hovering feeling finally landed, like an important task being completed.

Meng Chi showed no outward sign of this. While pulling on her seatbelt, she thought to herself: I just wanted to be here early to wait.

“It wasn’t much of a wait,” she said vaguely.

She looked around the interior and added, “Is this another rental?”

There were many personal touches from the owner inside; it didn’t look like a rental at all, but rather like something someone had owned for a while.

While driving, Shen Qingruo followed Meng Chi’s gaze to the Avengers cartoon seat covers.

She had actually forgotten her “persona” again?

What kind of memory was this? If she kept this up, she’d never be in the running for an Oscar.

With a smile still on her lips, Shen Qingruo said, “It’s Xie Zhen’s.”

Meng Chi looked away from the seat covers and met Shen Qingruo’s eyes. Her clear, dark eyes seemed to say: Keep making it up, I’m listening.

Meng Chi usually kept a neutral expression, making it hard to tell what she was thinking. Shen Qingruo maintained her “Best Actress” facade and said, “A wealthy businessman gave it to her.”

That wealthy businessman being Xie Zhen’s biological mother.

Meng Chi gave a soft “Oh.” It was unclear if she believed it, but she didn’t press further.

It had rained earlier that afternoon, leaving the ground damp. The lights from the skyscrapers spilled onto the pavement, merging into a flashy, phantasmagoric display of colors.

The light at the intersection turned red, and the car slowed to a halt. Shen Qingruo kept one hand on the wheel while the other rested on the door, her long fingers tapping lightly.

The wind caught the ends of her hair, and the chaotic city lights reflected on her fair, exquisite face. She looked completely immersed in the North City night. She appeared both glamorous and remarkably grounded.

The light turned green, and traffic began to flow again. Meng Chi retracted her gaze, her fingers unconsciously plucking at her seatbelt before finally relaxing her hand onto her lap.

…

The KTV was called “Red Tide,” with a neon red sign glowing atop the building. The structure was draped in lights, looking golden and brilliantly eye-catching.

The interior was lavish. The lobby looked like that of a star-rated hotel, and the air was filled with a pleasant fragrance. Meng Chi rarely went to KTVs, and she had certainly never been to one like this.

Just as they reached the entrance, Shen Qingruo received a call from Xie Zhen: “Are you guys here yet? The server isn’t coming… bring up a dozen beers…”

To the right of the lobby was their in-house supermarket, stocked with drinks and snacks. Shen Qingruo casually tossed a few bags of snacks into the basket and picked up a small crate of beer. Glancing at Meng Chi, she said with a smile, “We’re happy today. You should have a little drink with us.”

Her hand moved toward the side, intentionally scanning past various beers before stopping at a shelf. “This looks good. Let’s go with this.”

The label on that shelf clearly read: Sweet Milk.

She grabbed two cartons and tossed them into the basket.

Meng Chi: “…”

She didn’t really want to argue with Shen Qingruo over this, but seeing the mischief in those eyes made her feel like she had to do something. She stepped past her toward the wine section. Just as she picked up a bottle, her wrist was caught. Shen Qingruo’s palm was a bit cool, and her face held a touch of helplessness. “Aiyah, kid, what’s wrong with milk?”

Shen Qingruo paused for half a beat and added, “It helps you grow taller.”

After a brief back-and-forth, Xie Zhen called again to urge them along. They finally reached a compromise: Shen Qingruo picked out two cans of milk beer for Meng Chi.

Although Meng Chi felt this “compromise” was entirely one-sided, she left the store looking somewhat disgruntled.

The private room was a “small” one for this establishment, but it was still larger than any Meng Chi had been in before, with walls covered in intricate patterned wallpaper. To set the mood, Xie Zhen had dimmed the lights.

“Old Shen, toss me a beer.” Xie Zhen was perched on the arm of a sofa, focused on the song selection screen.

As they sat down, Shen Qingruo sat up slightly, tore a beer from the plastic packaging, and tossed it onto the sofa next to Xie Zhen. “Here.”

Ignoring Meng Chi’s stare at the beer, she opened a can of milk beer with a crack. She took a sip first and frowned. “Why does milk beer taste so strongly of alcohol these days?”

Xie Zhen glanced over, saw the label, and went back to selecting songs. “That brand doesn’t have a strong taste. It barely has any alcohol; it’s like drinking milk.”

Shen Qingruo shook her head and kept the milk beer by her side, effectively confiscating it.

After picking a few songs, Xie Zhen asked in a host-like tone, “Anything you guys want to sing?”

Shen Qingruo: “Jay Chou’s Rice Field (Dao Xiang).”

As soon as she spoke, the large screen switched to the familiar music video. The nostalgic melody filled the room. Xie Zhen picked up the microphone and cleared her throat, waving her arm to hype them up. “Alright, next, I shall perform Rice Field for everyone.”

“…” Shen Qingruo immediately clutched her heart with a look of mock flattery. “Really? Am I allowed to hear this for free?”

Xie Zhen laughed and threw a crumpled tissue at her. She was about to say something when the intro ended, so she ignored Shen Qingruo and sang with total devotion.

Shen Qingruo leaned back on the sofa, her long fingers tapping rhythmically against the milk beer can. She took small sips in time with the melody. The flickering lights flashed across her stunning face. A bit of the milky liquid clung to her lip; her neck was long, her skin flushed a faint pink. She swallowed in small, delicate gulps.

Meng Chi’s gaze drifted—first to the screen, then back to Shen Qingruo.

She wasn’t a big drinker, so she hadn’t minded much when Shen Qingruo took the drink away; she just resented being treated like a child. But now, watching Shen Qingruo take sip after sip, she wondered: Is it really that good?

Perhaps noticing her gaze, Shen Qingruo casually licked the milk from her lip. “What’s wrong? Feeling like you’ve accidentally wandered into an ‘old person’s’ playlist?”

“It’s fine,” Meng Chi said, her own voice sounding muffled to her ears. “My high school teacher liked this song. They played it for us a few times during self-study.”

“How old was your teacher?”

“Over forty.”

Shen Qingruo propped her head on one hand and covered her face briefly with the other. She quickly looked up again, her expression resigned. “Fine, my mistake. Go pick some songs. Let me see what young people are listening to.”

“I don’t really listen to much music, and I don’t know how to sing.”

“Then pick the one you’re best at.”

Meng Chi thought for a moment. Back in her senior year, the school had held a New Year’s Eve performance. Because of the academic pressure, it wasn’t mandatory, but every class had to provide one act. They had just finished a mock exam, and everyone was in a slump. As class president, she had volunteered to save the class the trouble. She didn’t think she’d be chosen, but she ended up being pushed forward by the entire grade. Someone had filmed her singing and uploaded it online; it had gone viral enough that even Jiang Sitian from another school had seen it.

Meng Chi paused and gave the song title.

Shen Qingruo seemed to recognize it. She stood up and tapped the screen:

Something Just Like This.

A moment later, Xie Zhen handed the microphone to Meng Chi. Meng Chi suddenly felt nervous—more nervous than when she was on the school stage. She wished she had insisted she couldn’t sing.

Meng Chi stood before the center screen and took a light breath. With her back to Shen Qingruo, she tried to imagine she was the only one in the room.

The intro finished, and the lyrics appeared.

Meng Chi remained silent for a heartbeat. Just as Shen Qingruo was about to step in to save her, Meng Chi began to sing. Unlike her usual quiet voice, her singing carried an unexpected amount of emotion. It was beautiful. Her English pronunciation was fluent and natural, clearly the result of years of study.

Occasionally, she’d forget a lyric and pause for half a beat to look at the subtitles, but she’d catch up quickly. With her back to them and both hands gripping the mic, she looked like a quintessential “good student.”

Xie Zhen cupped her hands around her mouth and cheered. “Amazing! You could debut!” She then put on a look of mock regret, glancing at Shen Qingruo. “She’s so wonderful; what on earth does she see in you?”

Shen Qingruo watched Meng Chi’s slender back, her expression unmoving. “Don’t be in such a rush. When I have time, I’ll send you a book called Ruo Ruo’s Virtues.”

She turned back with a fox-like smile. “By then you’ll realize that not having me is one of life’s greatest regrets.”

Xie Zhen: “…”

Xie Zhen: “That book must be full of blank pages.”

…

A while later, Shen Qingruo went to the restroom to touch up her makeup. Shortly after, Meng Chi entered as well, seemingly to wash her hands. She stood before the marble vanity, water streaming from the golden faucet over her elegant hands.

The tips of her ears were a faint red.

Shen Qingruo’s gaze lingered on her ears. Twirling her lip brush, she said, “Kid, did you sneak a drink while I wasn’t looking?”