To Sweep Across Like Wildfire - Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Meng Chi was never one to wear her heart on her sleeve. Most of the time, she wasn’t good at expressing herself, let alone when it came to matters of the heart.

She didn’t know how to put it into words.

Why was Shen Qingruo unwilling to touch her?

Was it… because she didn’t like her?

Her mind was a tangled mess, and the more she thought, the colder her heart became. Was she really that lacking in attraction for Shen Qingruo?

It inevitably reminded her of her failed past relationship. Though she had never had physical contact with Song Yuanzhe, he had once said with a bitter smile that she was like a block of wood, devoid of human emotion. At the time, she felt nothing; she thought there was nothing wrong with her. She believed everyone had their own habits, and given her upbringing, it was normal to dislike excessive intimacy.

She had always believed that.

Until this moment. The realization that Shen Qingruo hadn’t touched her sent a powerful wave of emotion surging from her heart. It hurt. She began to overthink Song Yuanzhe’s shallow judgment—was she really just a “block of wood”? Is that why no one would ever have “thoughts” about a block of wood?

But she quickly cast Song Yuanzhe’s words aside. His character was questionable, and his motive for saying that had been impure—he just wanted her to behave the way he desired. Besides, one should stay rational; you shouldn’t doubt yourself based on someone’s superficial judgment.

Perhaps her heart was just too chaotic right now, which was why her mind drifted back to his words.

As she refocused her thoughts, she realized she had a tendency to snap back to the “rational track” very quickly. Was this the opposite of being sexy? Yes, people who are always analyzing and trying to untangle things appear quite boring.

I am a boring person, so Shen Qingruo isn’t interested in me.

In all her years, she hadn’t faced much true hardship. She used to think a difficult math problem, a less-than-perfect test score, or a professor’s critique of her art were the heights of frustration. Little did she know that on the road of life, anything can happen. After meeting Shen Qingruo, all previous frustrations were insignificant. In terms of lethality, those were pebbles, while this was an atomic bomb that could turn her to dust in an instant.

Meng Chi suddenly felt that life was meaningless. No wonder so many people wanted to retreat into a monastery.

Just then, a soft voice came from beside her: “Kid, I’m thirsty. Go pour me a glass of water.”

Meng Chi’s movements were faster than her brain. She bounced off the bed, walked to the living room, poured a glass of warm water, and delivered it steadily into Shen Qingruo’s hand.

Seeing the frown on Shen Qingruo’s brow vanish after a sip, Meng Chi suddenly felt she was useful after all. She climbed back into bed, feeling quite pleased with herself.

The thought of the monastery was tossed to the wind. Just as her feet had touched the bitter sea of renouncing love, she heard Shen Qingruo’s voice and immediately packed her bags to run back down the mountain.

A moment later, Meng Chi leaned gently against Shen Qingruo’s leg.

Unaware of the turbulent waves in Meng Chi’s heart, Shen Qingruo kept typing with one hand while using the other to lightly ruffle the girl’s hair. Thinking she was tired, Shen said, “Go to sleep in a bit. I’m almost done.”

Two minutes later, Meng Chi quietly shifted closer. This was the boldest “seduction” she was capable of.

After the lights were out, Meng Chi stared at the pitch-black ceiling. Just before she could stare a hole through it, she withdrew her intense gaze and took a long breath. She turned over gently, her hand reaching out to rest on Shen Qingruo, only to find the other woman’s breathing steady—she was already asleep.

Meng Chi: “…”

She felt unsatisfied, but comforted herself: It’s just the first time; I’m inexperienced. I’ll try again next time. After tossing and turning for a while, she fell into a reluctant sleep.

…

Early the next morning, Shen Qingruo woke up to a faint rustling by the bed. Opening her eyes groggily, she saw Meng Chi quietly changing clothes. The room was dim, showing only a silhouette, but it was enough to see she had a great figure.

“Kid…” A slightly raspy voice came from behind Meng Chi. “Hand…”

“What?” Meng Chi was confused. She knelt on the bed with one long leg and leaned over. Despite being teased so many times, she never learned; she maintained a natural trust. As she reached out, she belatedly wondered if this was another prank. But before she could pull back, her hand was gently grasped and then released. Something had been placed in her palm.

“You bought me so many things last night. Consider this a small return gift,” Shen Qingruo said. “Even though the value doesn’t come close, I’ll make it up to you later.” Seeing Meng Chi remain motionless, she added, “Don’t like it?”

As Shen reached to take it back, Meng Chi gripped it tightly and pulled it away. Her voice was calm: “There’s no rule that says you can take back a gift.”

Shen Qingruo rubbed her nose. “That bottle is unopened. It’s new, feel free to use it.”

She heard Meng Chi’s soft, slightly awkward mumble: “It wouldn’t matter even if it were used.”

“What?” Shen wasn’t sure if she heard correctly.

“Nothing,” Meng Chi said steadily. “I like it very much. Thank you.”

Really? Shen thought suspiciously. The voice was so flat, it didn’t sound like she liked it. She then wondered if she had been too lazy by just grabbing something she already had as a gift. Oh well, she’d make it up later.

Shen decided not to overthink it and lay back down. “Go to school. I’m going to sleep more.”

Meng Chi: “There are crackers and bread in the snacks I bought yesterday. Eat something when you wake up; don’t just go out.”

Shen Qingruo gave a perfunctory grunt of agreement.

Meng Chi moved slowly toward the bedroom door, then doubled back. She whispered, “Can I come over directly in the future?”

“I’m not always home. Just tell me in advance when you want to come,” Shen said, not thinking much of it, but adding a warning: “But no skipping class to come play.” She sounded exactly like a responsible “big sister” from next door.

After leaving, Meng Chi felt like she had forgotten something important. She remembered. She took out the perfume Shen had just given her, carefully sprayed a bit on her wrist, and dabbed it behind her ears.

Shen Qingruo’s first gift to her.

…

Half an hour later, Shen Qingruo frantically grabbed her laptop bag and dashed toward the door. Suddenly remembering the “kid’s” instruction, her body instinctively did a 180-degree turn. She rushed back to the living room, muttering, “I’m going to be late for work, who has time for breakfast?” She complained about being so obedient—it wasn’t like there were cameras; how would the kid know if she didn’t eat?

Muttering under her breath, she grabbed the bread and milk from the table. She truly hated breakfast; it felt like her organs weren’t even awake yet. How good could bread be, anyway?

She rushed toward her workplace, taking a big, messy bite of the bread as she ran…

This bread… actually seemed softer than the ones she usually bought.

Was this the legendary taste of… “soft rice” (living off someone)? It was actually quite delicious.

…

Back at the studio, “Old Third” the third roommate came back from the restroom, shaking the water droplets off her hands. She reached stealthily for the tissue box on the table. Just as she was about to grab one, “Old First” the leader popped her head out from behind an easel as if the tissues were alarmed.

“Can’t you bring your own tissues?!” Old First shouted, waving her paintbrush so excitedly it looked like she might throw it.

Caught, Old Third lost her guilt and grew bold. She wiped her hands flamboyantly. “Boss, I forgot! Remind me next time.”

“Get out! How come you never forget to eat?”

“Waah!” Old Third ran over to act cute. “I sent you a red envelope on WeChat, go accept it!”

“Go away, go away!”

Old Third sniffed the air. “Boss, did you change your perfume? It smells pretty good…” She paused, realizing the scent wasn’t coming from there. She sniffed toward the side and looked up at Meng Chi. “Meng Chi! Are you wearing perfume?”

Meng Chi’s brush paused slightly. Her expression wasn’t awkward at all; in fact, she looked quite poised. “A friend gave it to me.” There was a tiny hint of pride in her calm tone.

Old Third didn’t catch the pride, she was just shocked. Meng Chi almost never wore perfume. Even when she used to date Song Yuanzhe and the roommates suggested she wear some, she’d said it was unnecessary.

Remembering something else, Old Third added, “Oh, I ran into Professor Tian in the hallway. He wants you to go to his office.”

At the thought of the professor’s usual scoldings, Meng Chi’s heart sank. The lightness in her voice vanished. “Got it.”

She rose slowly, walking out of the classroom under the sympathetic gazes of her roommates. “Number Four!” “Old Second” called out. “Remember to use the ‘Out-of-Body’ technique! You’ll be fine!”

…

In the office, Professor Tian set his teacup down and pointed to several sketches. “You did all of these during the Xiling trip?”

His expression was unreadable. Meng Chi wanted to say “no,” but she braced herself. “Yes.”

She prepared to stare at her toes, as per the advice for “Out-of-Body” survival, but then she caught a flash of joy in the professor’s eyes.

“Good!” Professor Tian said happily. “You’ve made great progress lately. But why do you look so pale?”

A drop of sweat rolled down behind Meng Chi’s ear, but she remained composed. “I didn’t sleep well.”

“Young people shouldn’t have such bad sleep quality. You’re becoming like us old folks. Sit down,” he said. “Did you experience something these past few days? Your sketches feel different.”

A fleeting image of a certain vivacious figure crossed Meng Chi’s mind. She didn’t know what to say.

Professor Tian continued, “Well, a lot can happen in a few days. Maybe you just had a breakthrough… though there are still some detail issues… look here…”

Meng Chi listened intently. Ten minutes later, the professor handed her a flyer. “This is a national youth sketching competition. The department wants a few students from each class to sign up. Go spread the word.”

…

Back at the studio, the roommates were practically holding a prayer vigil. When another classmate mentioned that Professor Tian had actually spent a long time praising Meng Chi, the roommates were stunned.

The “criticism machine” Professor Tian? Praising someone? Especially Meng Chi, whom he always picked on?!

When Meng Chi returned, Old Third asked in disbelief, “He didn’t yell at you?”

“No,” Meng Chi said.

“He must have had a personality transplant,” Old Third muttered.

Meng Chi posted a photo of the competition flyer to the class group chat. It was officially exam month. Even though she had finished her review, she decided to head to the library to consolidate her knowledge.

Near dinner time, she looked up from her books and noticed a couple sitting across from her. Usually, she wouldn’t care, but today she couldn’t help but notice their small, intimate gestures.

She took out her phone and opened her chat with Shen Qingruo. She had wanted to ask if she could come over for days, but felt it wasn’t “dignified.”

She took a breath, typed quickly, and sent it before immediately flipping her phone face-down.

“Are you free tonight?”