To Sweep Across Like Wildfire - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Early the next morning, Shen Qingruo stood by the bed with her back turned, rubbing her waist as she got dressed.

Though Meng Chi hadn’t slept long, she woke up alongside her. Supporting her upper body with her slender arms, the blanket barely veiled her pale chest. She asked, “Aren’t you going to sleep a bit longer?”

Shen Qingruo replied casually, “No, I have to go to work.”

Meng Chi let out a soft “Ah,” appearing surprised, and murmured under her breath, “Do you people… even get time to rest?”

Her gaze drifted across Shen Qingruo’s fair back, where hickeys were clearly visible—anyone could tell whose handiwork they were. Meng Chi’s ears burned instantly. She lowered her head, unconsciously rubbing her aching wrist as her mind drifted back to a few hours ago.

She quickly shook her head, trying to cast those thoughts aside. Fortunately, Shen Qingruo had her back turned and didn’t see this strange behavior.

Don’t think about that, Meng Chi told herself. Think about more important matters. Like… how do I bring up paying her, and how much?

Shen Qingruo had just finished tidying herself when she heard a tiny voice behind her, so soft it was almost inaudible: “Um, do you prefer Alipay or WeChat?”

It was phrased extremely vaguely.

A normal person might not have understood, but Shen Qingruo did.

Last night, Meng Chi had assumed she was a “professional” and approached her. At the time, Shen Qingruo found it amusing and said, “I don’t take orders from little sisters,” though she had immediately followed up with, “I’m kidding.” Looking back, she realized that follow-up was highly ambiguous. One meaning was: I’m kidding, I’m not in that profession. The other was: I’m kidding, I take orders from little sisters too.

Evidently, the “little kid’s” subsequent reactions proved she had interpreted it as the latter.

Add to that Shen Qingruo’s own penchant for drama last night—spinning tales about “coming out to make a living at eighteen”—and she had the kid completely fooled.

Shen Qingruo turned around and saw Meng Chi’s cheeks were flushed pink, looking like a fresh, delicious peach.

She couldn’t resist reaching out and giving them two light pinches. She blinked and said with a smile, “You performed very well yesterday. Sister is very satisfied, so I won’t take your money.”

…

Long after Shen Qingruo had left, a faint scent of perfume still lingered in the air.

Meng Chi lay flat on the bed, hands over her heart, when a thought suddenly struck her. She bolted upright.

She realized she still didn’t know the woman’s name. More importantly, she had no way to contact her.

Unable to go back to sleep, she got up and ran to the window to look out. Even though she knew the woman had been gone for a while and couldn’t possibly still be nearby, she still held a glimmer of hope. In doing so, she happened to spot several familiar figures. A thought flashed through her mind; she immediately got dressed and ran downstairs.

Last night, Jiang Sitian hadn’t been able to stop worrying, so she had called a few acquaintances to secretly keep watch outside the hotel. After Meng Chi discovered them, she told Sitian to send them away. Not long after, they were gone. She had assumed they had left, but looking down just now, she saw them still loitering nearby. This wasn’t a coincidence. It was easy to guess they hadn’t left at all—they had just found a different spot to wait.

The curtains had been drawn tight last night, so Meng Chi didn’t think they could have seen anything. She was perfectly composed as she walked up to them.

Normally, Meng Chi was a very calm person—as long as she wasn’t facing that woman.

The guys tried to hide when they saw her, but there was nowhere to go. They were forced to greet her awkwardly. Before they could even say “What a coincidence,” she got straight to the point: “The woman I was with—did you see which way she went when she left?”

They looked confused. “That woman left?”

Meng Chi sighed softly. She checked the time on her phone and said, “Are you busy? Wait for me a moment. I need to check out.”

Meng Chi was efficient; she emerged from the hotel shortly after with a large bag of food for their breakfast. She added, “You can’t get a taxi around here; the app says fifty people are in line. Please take me back to school. I’ll treat you to a meal another day.”

To Meng Chi, these were separate matters. The fact that they helped Jiang Sitian “monitor” her was true, but their good intentions were also true.

The black Mercedes started up, circled half the fountain, and headed toward the main road.

Meng Chi leaned against the backrest, head tilted toward the window. The hotel receded until it vanished from sight. She silently repeated a name to herself.

When they got the room last night, both had registered their IDs. While checking out, she had indirectly asked the receptionist. The receptionist likely didn’t expect her not to know her companion’s name and, without suspicion, told her.

Shen Qingruo.

The boy in the passenger seat stole a glance in the rearview mirror. From this angle, he could see Meng Chi’s beautiful, sleek jawline as she looked out the window.

Meng Chi was gorgeous—it was rare to see someone that striking—but she was also genuinely cold. Sometimes her words could freeze a person solid.

They weren’t actually close to her; they were just helping Jiang Sitian. They had only met her once before at the gates of Beiyuan University.

Worried she’d notice him staring, he shifted his gaze and whistled guiltily.

…

Beiyuan University is one of the country’s most famous institutions. Like all prestigious schools, it attracts countless tourists. However, since it wasn’t a holiday or a weekend, the school was closed to the public to ensure normal teaching. Tourists gathered at the gates to take photos.

Meng Chi squeezed through the crowds and looked down at a WeChat message from a classmate sent two minutes ago:

“Building 3, Room 411. Professor Yan is about to take attendance. Get here fast.”

Fortunately, the gate was close to Building 3. Meng Chi arrived quickly. Word of Professor Yan’s attendance check had spread; many who had been sleeping in or studying in the library had rushed over. Someone had even cracked open the back door to let those skipping class sneak in.

Professor Yan saw everything. He stood behind the podium, head down over his book, appearing oblivious. In reality, his gaze flew over his reading glasses, sweeping past the students frantically texting and those slipping through the back door.

He quickly caught a tall, slender figure. Withdrawing his gaze without looking up, he said nonchalantly, “Even the top student skips class, I see.”

Everyone turned their heads back to see a beautiful silhouette. Those with sharp eyes might have noticed she hadn’t changed her clothes from yesterday, but no one seemed to catch it; they were just surprised she was late.

Meng Chi was a double major: Fine Arts and Economics.

Professor Yan’s class was a general course for the School of Economics and Management—not as vital as her core subjects and easy to pass. Yet, Meng Chi rarely missed a session.

She had just sat down when she felt the eyes of the entire department on her. She had no choice but to stand up and apologize. “Professor, I’m sorry. I woke up too late.”

She hadn’t expected to be stuck in traffic for so long. No wonder she couldn’t get a taxi; no driver wanted the order because of the gridlock.

Professor Yan gave a soft huff but wasn’t truly angry.

After she sat down, the others looked away. Only the classmate next to her whispered, “You really woke up late?”

Meng Chi gave a vague hum in response.

The classmate’s eyes were full of suspicion. Suddenly, they noticed something off. Squinting through thick, highly nearsighted lenses, a glint of light reflected off the glass.

Meng Chi wasn’t nervous before, but the classmate’s expression made her so. She realized she hadn’t had time to change.

It had been sweltering lately; even two showers a day felt like too few. There was no way someone wouldn’t change their clothes for two days.

Unless… they hadn’t gone back to the dorm at night.

Meng Chi assumed her classmate had guessed.

The classmate’s gaze settled on her collar. “Your collar is wrinkled.”

Meng Chi paused, then straightened it. “I probably didn’t notice when I was running over.”

The classmate nodded and went back to her book.

She remained calm the entire time. She only saw the wrinkle; she didn’t realize the outfit was the same.

“…” Meng Chi didn’t actually mind telling her she hadn’t come home, but for some reason, she felt a surge of gratitude toward this girl whose world consisted only of studying.

Because she had been singled out by the professor, Meng Chi was extra attentive for the rest of the lecture. When the first class ended, she finally relaxed during the break. Holding a black pen, she began to doodle aimlessly on her scratch paper.

Her lines soon became fluid and familiar, flowing in a single breath.

The heart-stirring gasps, the silky skin, the moisture on her fingertips… that passionate, lingering night she couldn’t forget.

Three minutes later, Meng Chi added the final stroke and stared at the drawing in a daze.

After a moment, she took her phone and photographed the sketch. She opened her secret Weibo account, “Random Doodles 417,” and started a new post. She edited the text several times, not knowing how to describe it. Finally, she wrote just two words: “Last Night.”

She attached the sketch and posted it.

Comments soon started rolling in:

• “First!”

• “Today’s drawing feels different than usual, Xiao Sui.”

• “Beautiful! The lines are so vivid!”

Meng Chi had used this account for years to share her spontaneous art. At first, there were no comments and only a few dozen views. Once, after a good day with Jiang Sitian, she had posted a quick sketch of a little white flower by the road.

Shortly after, it was retweeted by a famous art blogger with hundreds of thousands of followers. Meng Chi had found it strange, but checking the blogger’s profile, she realized the person retweeted nearly fifty posts a day just to maintain engagement.

Since then, perhaps because Meng Chi was active, her views grew and people started leaving comments.

Meng Chi scanned the comment section and opened the sketch again.

On the paper were just a few strokes, yet the silhouette was exceptionally enchanting: it was the figure of a woman leaning against a railing.