Volume One, Chapter 9: Are We Going to Book a Room?

Time and air seemed frozen in place; at that moment, Wan Shu’s mind went completely blank. Not to mention explaining—she could barely bring herself to speak, and explanations might have been useless anyway, since she was the one who lied first.

“Don’t scare the child. Let’s find out what’s really going on before jumping to conclusions.”

A clear, gentle female voice drifted in like a spring, piercing the frozen barrier of tension. Wan Shu took several deep breaths, her pupils flickering, and then realized Meng Huaijin hadn’t come alone. Beside him stood the stunning Jiang Jie.

“I have something to attend to tonight. I’m not going upstairs.” Meng Huaijin said this to Jiang Jie and then strode directly toward Wan Shu.

“Huaijin,” Jiang Jie called after him, but he didn’t look back.

Their eyes met—like ice meeting fire. Wan Shu instinctively wanted to step back, but her feet felt as if weighed down by a thousand pounds; she couldn’t move an inch.

“Is that your uncle?” Zhou Ze asked more calmly than she felt. After a quiet moment, he extended his right hand in a friendly gesture. “Hello, Uncle. I’m Wan Wan’s classmate and childhood friend. My name is Zhou Ze.”

But Meng Huaijin seemed not to hear him at all, not even glancing his way, as he continued approaching Wan Shu.

The next moment, she suddenly felt her wrist tighten, pulled forward by an iron-strong, commanding force, striding swiftly out of the hotel.

Wan Shu couldn’t keep up, practically dragged along. “Uncle.”

Meng Huaijin said nothing, his long legs forging ahead.

After walking several dozen meters, Wan Shu called out “Uncle” repeatedly, her voice growing choked with tears. “You’re hurting me.”

At last, Meng Huaijin slowed his pace, stopped by a car, opened the door, and pushed her inside, following her promptly before slamming the door shut.

The security guard driving was startled, glancing back at Wan Shu’s panicked face, about to plead, but was silenced by his captain’s razor-sharp glare.

“I... I’m stepping out for a smoke. Captain, let’s talk this through calmly.”

Once the guard stepped out, only Wan Shu and Meng Huaijin remained inside the confined space, the silence stretching on.

“Nothing to say? Wan Shu.” The man toyed with a cigarette between his fingers but didn’t light it. His voice was like a dry well beneath thick fog—unclear, yet brimming with a bone-deep menace.

Wan Shu massaged her wrist, almost torn from being pulled, stealing a quick glance at him before averting her eyes. “Sorry, Uncle. These past few days I said I was out with my deskmate. That was a lie.”

“So you were out with your early boyfriend,” Meng Huaijin stated flatly.

“He’s not my boyfriend, and I’m not in an early romance!” Wan Shu finally dared to meet his gaze directly.

Meng Huaijin took in her flushed embarrassment and anger. “Wan Shu, you even rented a room with him and still deny it?”

Those words stung worse than any lash—humiliating and painful. Growing up was like that: what others saw as trivial felt monumental to her. Her nostrils flared, eyes reddening as tears welled up.

“So, in your eyes, that’s the kind of person I am, right?” she asked, her tear-brimmed eyes striking a chord in him. Though he was questioning her, now she was challenging him.

His sharp brows furrowed, his voice cold as ever. “Wan Shu, be reasonable. If he’s not your boyfriend, then why lie and say you were with your deskmate?”

Wan Shu struggled to explain the chasm between their generations, cheeks burning. “Last time, I only cried a few tears because of friendship, but you asked if I was crying for a boyfriend. How was I supposed to answer?”

“If I told you the person who came to see me was a boy who flew over a thousand kilometers just to find me, would you believe we’re simply friends?”

“You probably wouldn’t. Adults only believe what they want to believe. But Zhou Ze really is my friend...”

At the most painful moment, the girl broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. “He, Bai Fei, and I have been close friends since kindergarten. But after my family’s troubles, for reasons I had to avoid, they didn’t contact me for months. I thought it was because I was unlikeable, that I couldn’t even keep a friendship.”

“This time, Zhou Ze risked being expelled from his family registry to find me. Even though I was terrified you’d find out, I was happy inside. I agreed to go back to the hotel with him because they brought me gifts, and I just went to get them. But you... you say I rented a room with a boy. Does that sound fair?”

“I’m still a virgin, understand?”

“...” Meng Huaijin rubbed his temple, momentarily overwhelmed by the rapid-fire words, especially that last line.

For two or three minutes, he said nothing.

When her emotions settled somewhat, he calmly pulled out a tissue and wiped the remaining tears from her face. “I’ll just say this: if you can argue with me ten times over, then you’ve grown up, Wan Shu.”

The girl pursed her lips, lowering her gaze to her toes. After a long pause, she whispered softly, “I was wrong to lie before. I’m sorry. But Zhou Ze really isn’t my boyfriend, and I didn’t rent a room with him.”

She didn’t get stuck in contradictions—owning her mistakes sincerely, but fiercely holding to what was true. Not so meek after all; she was quite eloquent.

Meng Huaijin withdrew his gaze, tossed the tissue aside, his tone as calm as ever. “Next time you have friends over, whether they stay here or elsewhere, I’ll arrange it—but you must tell me.”

Wan Shu sniffled, glancing sideways at him. “Got it.”

Meng Huaijin rolled down the window, finally lighting the cigarette. He took a few shallow drags, flicked the ash out the window. “Wan Shu, falling in love isn’t shameful. You don’t need to feel that way. I don’t oppose you dating. If you do start dating in the future, bring them home proudly.”

She blinked, surprised by his sudden change of tone, unsure how to respond.

“But for now, early romance is not allowed. Even male friends must be kept at a distance,” he said firmly, leaving no room for negotiation.

His words sounded somewhat authoritarian. Though she hadn’t started dating, how many youths were truly rational?

Wan Shu asked gently, “Uncle, have you ever had an early romance?”

Meng Huaijin pressed the cigarette butt with his tongue, white smoke drifting from his nostrils, his gaze lofty and disdainful. “When I was your age, I spent every day of the year in the military, where even the birds perched on the wires were all male. Who would I have dated?”

The girl stared at him, her swollen eyes unblinking for a long while before remembering to blink.

When she was eight, it wasn’t unreasonable to think of him as a fierce bandit with a stunning face.

Comparing the man before her now—stripped of his formal director’s role and his family’s red-collar laurels—this image of him with cigarette poised on his tongue was nothing if not a wild and fierce outlaw.

Moreover, with age and experience, this uncle was even more formidable and intimidating than the young man he once was.

“And now?” Wan Shu heard herself ask, “Why were you and that striking, confident Miss Jiang seen at the hotel? Were you there to rent a room? Or... are you two dating?”