Volume One, Chapter 12: You Are Truly Wicked

Meng Chuan said he had gone out of town and wouldn’t be back tonight.

It must be a hallucination, the girl thought, lowering her head again.

“Shu Wan.”

The low, magnetic voice struck above her head. Even in her drunken stupor, Shu Wan felt herself sober up a little.

She felt like she had been called on by a teacher—no, more like a drill instructor during military training—and reflexively stood up, only to collapse immediately from weakness.

The dull pain she expected never came. Instead, she fell into an embrace.

An embrace as cold as a winter storm.

Not warm, but powerful and steady.

“Shu Wan.” Meng Huaijin held a cake in his right hand while firmly supporting her with his left, calling her name again, his tone no softer than tonight’s snow.

She had grown used to his cold words; even in a hallucination, his way of speaking remained unchanged.

Shu Wan felt even more aggrieved. Since it was all a hallucination, she had nothing to lose. She tightened her hands around his neck, squinting at the handsome face beneath the blizzard. Mimicking his lowered tone, she called out:

“Meng Huaijin.”

“Huaijin.”

The man narrowed his eyes, his voice deep and resonant like the ocean’s depths. “Say it again.”

Shu Wan trembled against his arm, reluctant to call him by his full name again, but still venting her frustration. “See? Still so stern. Can’t you soften your tone a little? Can it be warmer… I’m not your soldier to command.”

But no, the man’s expression grew even sterner, suffused with the suffocating tension before a storm.

Still relying on this being a hallucination, Shu Wan boldly leaned on him at just the right height and, with a playful “peace” sign, gently poked his mouth corners upward with her index and middle fingers.

“Uncle Huaijin, don’t be so serious. I hardly ever see you smile. This is what a smile looks like…”

Her fingers suddenly ached as he grabbed her roughly. “Move again, and I’ll throw you into the snow.”

Shu Wan pouted. “Throw me if you want. After all, I’m just a stray dog or cat you picked up off the street… that’s all.”

“So that’s why you dress up so fancily and go out to have fun early in the morning without me, especially on my eighteenth birthday. You didn’t send me a single message all day. You’re really terrible. I’m telling you, Uncle, you’re truly terrible…”

She didn’t realize that where she sat was only five or six hundred meters from the apartment, in a nearby park.

Meng Huaijin carried the cake in one hand and held her firmly in the other as he walked toward the apartment, his stern eyebrows knitting tighter and tighter. His tone softened only slightly.

“Are you upset just because I didn’t spend your birthday with you?”

The girl pouted silently, tears soaking the collar and tie of the man’s shirt. Her words drifted in a different direction.

“Today was important. Very important.”

Meng Huaijin juggled her lightly in his arm, expressionless. “How important?”

Shu Wan tugged at his shirt collar, leaning in to whisper softly, “I never dared to tell you because I was afraid you’d say I was being sentimental. But actually… I really miss Mom and Dad. I miss them so much.”

Meng Huaijin suddenly paused, staring at her tear-stained face, her trembling lashes shadowed by sadness, her flushed cheeks from the alcohol, and the soggy, crooked hat soaked by the snow. Yet he said nothing.

They entered the apartment, took the elevator, and stepped out. The man used his fingerprint to unlock the door, then kicked it open with his toes, shutting it again with a back kick.

First, he placed the cake on the dining table and turned the heater to its highest setting. Only then did he carry her to the sofa and pull off her dripping hat.

Once she leaned against the sofa, he noticed the gift bag she held. He tried to tug it gently, but it wouldn’t budge.

Feeling her treasure about to be taken, Shu Wan clutched it tightly and growled, “Don’t touch my things. This scarf is a gift for you, Uncle.”

The man raised an eyebrow, withdrawing his hand, then looked down at her and asked, “Have you eaten any cake?”

The girl closed her eyes, shaking her head like a rattle.

Meng Huaijin glanced at his watch: it was already five minutes past eleven.

He paced over, opened the cake box, stuck a candle in it haphazardly, lit it with a lighter, turned off the lights, and brought the cake before the sofa. Pinching her soft cheeks, he coaxed gently, “Shu Wan, blow out the candle.”