To Sweep Across Like Wildfire - Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Around 10:00 PM, outside the library.

Meng Chi’s roommates had walked a few paces ahead when they realized she hadn’t followed. They stopped and looked back toward the entrance.

Meng Chi stood perfectly still. She cradled her books in one arm while staring at her phone in the other. The glow from the screen projected onto her face, emphasizing her fair skin. Her usually calm expression flickered with a distinct emotion—so fleeting one might suspect it was an illusion.

Quickly, she stowed her phone and hurried toward them. She told them she had something urgent to attend to and asked them to take her books back to the dorm.

The roommates, caught off guard, blankly agreed. They watched Meng Chi’s brisk, light-footed figure recede until she vanished from sight.

One roommate stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Did Meng Chi… look happy just now?”

…

Changyang Street is North City’s famous bar strip, surrounded by a massive commercial district. Traffic was backed up for nearly three kilometers. Worried about getting stuck, Meng Chi got out of her taxi early and walked briskly toward the street.

She repeatedly lit up her phone screen, re-reading the messages Jiang Sitian had sent in succession.

“I had that bartender buddy of mine keep an eye out.” “That woman really never went back to that original bar.” “BUT! His friend works at ‘Chunfeng DO’ and said he saw her!” “[Image] The woman in this photo looks like her to me!”

Meng Chi had looked at these messages so many times she could recite them by heart. Yet, she would browse them, put the phone away, and then pull it out again seconds later, as if the messages might vanish into thin air or as if she feared she had misread the name of the bar.

She opened the photos one by one. Through the pixels, she felt she could witness the moments from just a short while ago.

In a dimly lit bar, a woman in a black slip dress sat on a sofa near the stage. She was leaning sideways, drinking, her expression obscured. In one shot, a flash from a phone camera illuminated the scene; the woman seemed to sense something and turned toward the lens.

She habitually narrowed her eyes, a lazy smile playing on her lips. Her gaze looked languid yet slightly cold—as if she had spotted the camera, yet didn’t care.

The flustered staff member had clearly lost their nerve, taking two blurry, out-of-focus shots before quickly hiding the phone.

Meng Chi turned off her screen again, her pace quickening unconsciously. The streets were packed. The summer night breeze felt stagnant and stifling here, thick with humid heat.

Two minutes later, Meng Chi turned onto Changyang Street. She wove through the noisy crowds of various bars and arrived at the entrance of “Chunfeng DO.” She took a deep breath to steady her erratic breathing and pushed open the heavy glass doors.

A wave of powerful, rhythmic music hit her. Several people were already dancing on the small stage. Among them were two women who, unlike the others, had no male partners. They held hands, moving with a synchronized, practiced grace. Their swaying silhouettes drew the eyes of nearly everyone in the room.

…

Actually, after leaving the hotel that morning, Shen Qingruo had felt a twinge of regret, annoyed at herself for rolling around in the sheets with a “little kid.” She blamed it on her recent foul mood. Consequently, she hadn’t gone out for drinks since then, fearing she might make another poor decision.

It wasn’t until tonight that she finally came out with Xie Zhen.

The two had been drinking for a while, and Xie Zhen, getting a bit tipsy and high on the music, pulled her up to dance. Xie Zhen held Shen Qingruo’s hand, raising her arm slightly; Shen Qingruo cooperated with a laugh, spinning twice under her arm.

Shen Qingruo’s slender waist was incredibly flexible. Though her movements were simple, they were undeniably sexy. The cheers from the crowd intensified.

A bit lightheaded from the alcohol, Shen Qingruo turned her head. Through the boisterous crowd, she narrowed her eyes and spotted a cool, familiar-looking girl standing by the door.

The girl stood alone and silent, looking like a little white flower that had accidentally wandered into a den of vanity.

Shen Qingruo rubbed her temples. Have I been dreaming about her too much lately? Am I hallucinating in real life?

Meng Chi watched the stage without blinking. Shen Qingruo’s form was exquisite—her shoulders were thin, her movements bold and fiery. She possessed a natural, magnetic charm that made it impossible to look away.

Gradually, this seductive figure began to overlap with the intoxicating memories of that night.

Meng Chi’s throat felt parched. Just as she was about to look for a drink, the woman on stage pushed through the crowd and walked over with a swaying gait.

Noticing the fine beads of sweat on Meng Chi’s hairline, Shen Qingruo grabbed two tissues from a nearby table and handed them over. “Why are you sweating so much?” she asked naturally.

Meng Chi had expected Shen Qingruo to say “What a coincidence” or “How are you here?” She hadn’t expected her to be so casual. The stiffness in Meng Chi’s body eased slightly. She took the tissues and wiped the sweat from her face. “It’s hot outside. I just got here.”

Shen Qingruo blinked. “And here I thought your heart was racing because you saw me.”

Meng Chi let out a soft “Mmm.” “That is also true.”

While her face remained somewhat expressionless and cool, her slightly trembling eyelashes betrayed her true state of mind.

Shen Qingruo hadn’t expected Meng Chi to actually play along. Slightly surprised, she scanned the girl’s face and caught the shyness hidden beneath that high-and-mighty exterior. Suddenly, a streak of mischief rose within her.

I really am a bad person, Shen Qingruo thought.

She softened her tone, sounding like the serpent tempting Eve with the apple. “Want to have a drink with me?”

Shen Qingruo had seemingly forgotten all about her previous annoyance regarding their night together.

…

Meng Chi followed Shen Qingruo, appearing natural on the outside but feeling mortified inside. She couldn’t understand why she had blurted out those words earlier.

Shen Qingruo led her straight to a young woman at a table. This puzzled Xie Zhen—was there a new friend joining them? It wasn’t until the “new friend” got closer that Xie Zhen recognized her as the “little kid” Shen Qingruo had gone to the hotel with.

Xie Zhen’s playful gaze darted between the two. They didn’t look like they had planned this; it looked more like the kid had come to demand an explanation.

Xie Zhen and Shen Qingruo had been friends since university and spoke without filters. Putting on a look of confusion, Xie Zhen said to Shen Qingruo, “I’ve noticed you’ve really taken a liking to kids lately. How did you pick up another one?”

Normally, Shen Qingruo would snap back: Young people have more stamina—oh, sorry, I forgot you haven’t dated a young person.

But with Meng Chi standing right there, Shen Qingruo wanted to maintain a bit of a “graceful image.” She simply replied, “Don’t talk nonsense.”

Once Meng Chi was seated, Shen Qingruo pointed at Xie Zhen. “This is my friend… the ‘Little Tiger born in ’98’.”

The last part was clearly a deliberate jab, either to shut Xie Zhen up or to mock her previous online persona—or both.

Shen Qingruo tilted her head, her smile deep and her eyes watery, looking both seductive and innocent. Meng Chi glanced at her face, then quickly looked away.

She felt even thirstier now than she did a moment ago.

Xie Zhen reacted predictably, forgetting her teasing of Shen Qingruo. “Can we stop bringing that up? I swear, when you die, you’ll have ‘Little Tiger of ’98’ carved on your tombstone.”

Shen Qingruo replied leisurely, “No need. I’m not the Little Tiger.” She turned to Meng Chi. “One time at a bar, my friend posted a profile on the big dating screen saying she was a ‘Little Tiger born in ’98’.”

Meng Chi thought: I know. I was there.

She realized then that the message she saw that night had been sent by the woman sitting across from her. She wanted to join their conversation but didn’t know how to break in. She looked at Xie Zhen thoughtfully and said, “Then you aren’t that much older than me.”

Xie Zhen, who had been bickering with Shen Qingruo, froze. She turned her head, eyes wide, pointing a trembling finger from Shen Qingruo to Meng Chi while clutching her heart. “Teasing me, are you?! You two! You’re doing this on purpose!”

Shen Qingruo suppressed a laugh and leaned into Meng Chi’s ear. She lowered her voice to a whisper that was still perfectly audible to everyone: “She was born in ’91.”

Shen Qingruo leaned half her body weight toward Meng Chi without quite resting against her. Her soft lips were so close to Meng Chi’s ear they almost touched, her warm breath fanning across the skin.

At such close proximity, Meng Chi could smell that faint, signature perfume.

Xie Zhen, oblivious to the chemistry, barked at Shen Qingruo, “Cut it out! Weren’t you born in ’91 too?”

Shen Qingruo blinked innocently, adopting a tone of peak “tea-master” sweetness. “Sister, we can’t say it like that. You were born in March, I was born in November. There are eight months between us. Can March and November be the same? That would violate the laws of the Earth’s orbit! Spring and Winter would be a mess! For the sake of global stability and human prosperity, let’s just take it month by month, year by year. Don’t you agree, Sister?”

Xie Zhen: “…”

Choked by Shen Qingruo’s honeyed “Sister,” Xie Zhen clutched her chest and took several deep breaths. “Good little sister, you truly have a silver tongue.”

Shen Qingruo smiled shyly, turned back to Meng Chi, and asked, “Little one, what do you want to drink?”

As she spoke, she casually pulled away, re-establishing the distance between them. Meng Chi didn’t show it, but she felt a wave of disappointment.

Hearing the word “Little one” made Meng Chi knit her brows slightly. Despite having been intimate, Shen Qingruo still treated her like a child.

Meng Chi lifted her chin, a hint of defiance in her eyes. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

She didn’t want to be a child in Shen Qingruo’s eyes.

Shen Qingruo asked Xie Zhen if she wanted anything else, but Xie Zhen shook her head.

Shen Qingruo turned to the waiter. “One whiskey on the rocks, please.” She glanced at Meng Chi and added, “And one glass of whole milk.”

Before she could finish, the “little kid’s” calm voice cut in: “Wait. Make that two whiskeys, both on the rocks. Two total.”

Her tone was steady, as if she ordered at bars every day. Shen Qingruo, however, could hear the faint trace of stubbornness in her voice.