The carriage was completely silent.
The driver noticed Meng Xianwen leaning against the seat back, brows furrowed and eyes shut without a word, as if enduring pain. His heart leaped to his throat, and he asked uneasily, "Mr. Meng, are you alright?"
Meng Jingshan, who was drunk and swaying unsteadily, was jostled badly and nearly threw up. The smell of alcohol radiating from him spread through the car. Hearing the driver's words, he ignored his own discomfort and hurriedly opened his reddened eyes, reaching out with both hands to grope at his son's forehead. "Xianwen? Son, are you okay?"
Meng Xianwen's head was already splitting with pain, his mind in chaos. A prickling numbness made him clench the fists on his knees. After the wave of agony passed, he spoke in a low voice to reassure the two men in the car: "Dad, I'm fine. Xiao Li, keep driving — no rush, take it slow. Safety first."
"Got it, Mr. Meng."
In the rainy night, the vehicle started moving again. This time, the driver deliberately controlled his speed, driving smoothly all the way.
Meng Jingshan took a sip of warm water and panted heavily. His mood today was complicated — both pleased that his son was more accomplished than him, and wistful about it. As a result, he'd indulged a little too much in drink.
This little incident opened the floodgates of his chatter. He scooted closer to his son and began rambling on and on, jumping from work to health to marriage, saying whatever came to mind.
Meng Xianwen paid no attention to these words of concern. What worried him more right now was his own condition. He was about to dial Lu Yuan's number when, mindful of his father's presence, he restrained himself and sent a message instead, cutting straight to the chase with caution: 【I'll be brief. Something's come up on my end — not sure if it's a sign of memory returning. I may need your help at any moment】
It was late into the night, and Lu Yuan hadn't replied yet — either he'd turned in, or he was still busy.
Meng Xianwen slowly rubbed his thumb across the screen, lost in thought. Suddenly, his phone lit up in the dim carriage. He glanced down — it wasn't Lu Yuan, but Ning Zhen: 【How late is "late"? Tell me already!】
He stared at the message with heavy eyes, letting the screen go dark.
Truth be told, he shouldn't have been surprised at how their relationship had started. That she'd been keeping something from him — he'd always known it in his gut.
Now everything was clear as day. Back then, to avoid ruffling feathers, he'd turned down the marriage alliance with the Song family, publicly claiming he had a stable girlfriend he'd been with for years. And that girlfriend was Ning Zhen, someone he'd known for a long time.
Ning Zhen was the most suitable choice. She'd known him for years, was adored by his parents — if his girlfriend were her, it would shut everyone up.
On that point, he'd already guessed it the moment he accidentally learned of the Meng and Song families' intention to arrange a match. What he'd never been able to figure out was what role Ning Zhen had played in the whole thing. Had she known his intentions? Or had she been in the dark?
If she'd known, what reason did she have to go along with him?
She must have known — otherwise, there was no explaining all the slip-ups she'd shown him.
Was it because of the money he'd promised her?
Meng Xianwen gripped his phone, so hard that the veins on the back of his hand stood out. He looked out the window — the night was too dark, but his true emotions were plain on his face at this moment. His rational mind told him this was a predictable reason, yet emotionally, there was a subtle sting of displeasure.
He sat in silence for a long while. As the car drove through the ornate wrought-iron gates of the old estate, he stiffly sent her a reply, his tone as calm and composed as ever: 【There's something I need to tell you. Wait for me to get back】
Late at night, the main building of the old estate was brightly lit.
Meng Xianwen and the driver together helped Meng Jingshan inside. The commotion they made was considerable — Xiao Xuezhen hurried down the stairs from the second floor. Seeing her husband drunk out of his mind, muttering incoherently and louder by the second, her temples throbbed and her expression changed. She scolded, "Must be a father-son thing! The old one's like this, and the young one too!"
Seeing her eldest son glance over, she softened her expression slightly, flustered, and explained: "Not you — your younger brother! He came back stinking of alcohol, no idea what got into him. Said he was taking Yuqing home, but it turned out she was bringing him home. Now he's in his room carrying on, insisting on showing her all his certificates and trophies from over the years. Can't stop him no matter what."
After venting, Xiao Xuezhen walked to the sofa and gave her husband's arm a hard pinch.
"Mom, I'll go upstairs and check on Jiaran."
Meng Xianwen raised a hand to loosen his tie and headed upstairs. His demeanor no longer held the pleasant, relaxed ease of the celebration banquet — he was solemn and walked with urgency, as if burdened by something.
The hallway on the second floor had soft lighting. The door to Meng Jiaran's bedroom was slightly ajar, with faint voices drifting out.
Meng Xianwen walked past the study door and sharply caught a whiff of damp earth from the rain in the air. He glanced sideways — the window was half-open, the wind ruffling the curtains. Somehow, the housekeeper or the butler must have forgotten to close the study window.
He stepped inside, walked to the window, and quietly looked out at the rainy night. He let out a pent-up breath, slammed the window shut with a bang, and turned to leave.
Click.
Even the faintest sound felt amplified in the dead of night. Meng Xianwen, annoyed by the noise and unsettled in his mind, looked up toward his brother's room. A slender figure slipped out quietly.
Song Yuqing hadn't even had a moment to feel relieved that Jiaran had settled down when she unexpectedly ran into Meng Xianwen's gaze. Her heart skipped a beat.
"Brother Xianwen." She quickly recovered her composure and greeted him with a polite smile.
Meng Xianwen felt another wave of dizziness. He shook his head, unsteady on his feet, and braced a hand against the wall. When he looked at Song Yuqing again, her features began to blur, the background fading into nothing.
In her place stood another person — someone he knew all too well, someone he shared a bed with.
Her voice overlapped with Song Yuqing's, standing thin and fragile in the same spot, looking at him with a pale face, trembling lips, speaking timidly: "Brother Xianwen, I... I don't understand what you're saying."
"Brother Xianwen, I was wrong, please let me go..."
"It's not what you think — I, I, I'm serious about Jiaran, he was drunk and I was taking care of him — ahhh, let go of me!!"
Song Yuqing stood at a loss, watching Meng Xianwen hold the wall with one hand and press his forehead with the other. She stepped forward to help him, nearly touching his arm, then hesitated and pulled back. "Brother Xianwen, are you alright? Are you feeling unwell? Hold on, I'll go get someone."
"No need, I'm fine." Meng Xianwen lowered his gaze. The four words came out barely above a whisper, nearly squeezed through his teeth. He stopped Song Yuqing, his face still pale.
Song Yuqing paused at his words. She'd been at the celebration banquet today on behalf of Hongxin and the Song family, and knowing he'd been drinking, she assumed the alcohol was getting to him. She asked, "What about Zhenzhen? Did she come too?"
At the sound of that name, Meng Xianwen's body stiffened slightly. He dropped his gaze, hiding the darkness in his eyes, and replied in a slow, even tone: "She's at home. She has work to handle."
Song Yuqing gave an "mm" and a flicker of awkwardness crossed her face. "Jiaran's already asleep, so he should be fine. I should head home now. Brother Xianwen, you should get some rest too."
Meng Xianwen nodded and thanked her politely: "Sorry for the trouble today."
"No trouble at all." She smiled. "Jiaran's a friend of mine. It's only right."
After saying goodbye, she didn't linger. She quickly descended the stairs, letting out an almost imperceptible breath. It might have been her imagination, but she always felt that Meng Xianwen stood as if shrouded in mist, carrying an unfathomable sense of danger and pressure.
At that moment, the butler, wiping sweat from his forehead, emerged from the room. He had also overheard the conversation between Song Yuqing and Meng Xianwen. "Jiaran really knows how to make a fuss. He's settled down now, but I didn't dare give him a shower in that state."
Meng Xianwen leaned against the wall, his expression calm and unreadable. He said nothing for a long while, then spoke in a low voice: "I'll go check on him."
The butler had watched the two brothers grow up and shared a deep bond with the Meng family. Seeing how late it was and that it was still raining, he urged with concern, "Why not stay the night here? Don't bother making the trip back."
Meng Xianwen rarely stayed overnight at the old house, and even less so lately. On one hand, he was buried in work; on the other, his relationship with Ning Zhen was flourishing, and whatever time he had outside of work was devoted entirely to her. When it came to his parents, he was practically a phantom—rarely seen.
"Alright." Meng Xianwen agreed, his breath tight. He didn't want to deal with Ning Zhen tonight, didn't want to see her, and didn't want to set foot back in that house even for a moment.
Even if Uncle Yang hadn't suggested it, he had no intention of going back.
The butler nodded repeatedly, beaming with delight as he went downstairs to make preparations. The entire second-floor corridor was left to Meng Xianwen, who stood there expressionless, trying to steady himself. Taking advantage of someone's vulnerable moment was all too common in his world; there was no need to let it stick in his throat.
After a while, a low chuckle echoed down the hallway.
…
Song Yuqing sat in the back seat, leaning wearily against the cushion, replaying the night's events with a swirl of mixed emotions.
Lately, under her parents' arrangement, she had been meeting someone from a family of equal standing. At the celebration banquet, a family friend had cheerfully inquired about the situation—because that person happened to be his nephew. Annoyed as she was, she still responded with a polite smile.
Jiaran must have noticed her low spirits, because he took her leave early. The heavy rain had clogged the traffic, so on a whim, they got out of the car, shared an umbrella, and went for a late-night snack. They ordered some drinks too, and he ended up downing most of them.
She had no idea how miserable he'd feel tomorrow. She took out her phone from her bag to remind him to text her when he woke up, but when she saw Ning Zhen's profile picture, she paused for a moment, thought briefly, and sent her a message: [Zhenzhen, I just dropped Jiaran home and ran into Mr. Meng. He didn't seem to be feeling well.]
When Ning Zhen received Song Yuqing's message, she had just drawn a smiley face on the cake she'd made from scratch. She pulled off her disposable gloves and leaned against the table to reply: [He can't possibly be feeling great all three hundred and sixty-five days a year, hahaha.]
Song Yuqing: [Fair point.]
Ning Zhen had been joking with Song Yuqing, but deep down, she actually did feel a bit worried about Meng Xianwen. She figured that after she'd left, someone must have offered him more drinks and he couldn't refuse. After a moment's thought, she dialed his number.
A cheerful ringtone shattered the suffocating silence of the study. Meng Xianwen sat rigidly in his chair, staring at the caller ID without moving. The phone glowed on the desk until the call automatically disconnected.
"Why won't he pick up?" Ning Zhen muttered to herself. Phone in hand, she walked to the floor-to-ceiling window on the balcony, pressing her face against the glass to peer outside. It was still raining, dark and dreary.
She stretched, flopped back onto the sofa, and held her phone up to send him a text: [Where are you?]
Still no reply.
Could it be that Uncle Meng was throwing a fit at home drunk, and he and Aunt Xiao were busy tending to him? Imagining that scene, she burst into laughter, all her fatigue from preparing his surprise melting away.
Had she known that was the case, she definitely wouldn't have made up an excuse to leave early. But it was too late for regrets now. She'd just have to wait for Meng Xianwen to narrate the whole thing to her.
Would he even come back tonight?
Song Yuqing said he wasn't feeling well... He'd been so busy lately, busy enough that he barely slept a few hours a day. Several nights she'd woken up to find the spot beside her empty—he was always in the study working overtime.
Fine!
Given that he still made sure to drive her to work every day, she decided to postpone the surprise by a day. It might not be piping hot anymore, but it would still be warm.
She really was the best girlfriend in the world. Ning Zhen marveled at how lucky he was, then composed another message: [The rain's coming down harder now. You should just rest at the old house tonight. Sleep well! Don't worry, I'll take a cab to work tomorrow (at your expense).]
After sending it, Ning Zhen reluctantly dragged herself off the sofa, humming a sweet tune as she grabbed a towel and went to shower.
When she came out and picked up her phone, she saw that he still hadn't replied. She frowned. Could he already be asleep? But if he'd planned all along to stay at the old house, he wouldn't have asked her to wait for him.
Oh no—what if something had happened to him?
Her heart skipped a beat. Never mind that it was the dead of night; she frantically dialed Xiao Xuezhen's number.
The call was picked up quickly, and a sleepy voice came through: "Zhenzhen, you have work tomorrow. Why aren't you asleep yet?"
Hearing that, Ning Zhen let out a sigh of relief and asked, "Aunt Xiao, Xianwen hasn't been answering my messages. Has he already gone to bed?"
"I'll go down and check. I'll get back to you."
"Okay!"
Xiao Xuezhen pulled her robe tighter and headed downstairs. The door to Meng Xianwen's room on the second floor was open, and no one was inside. The study was empty too, though a glass of wine sat on the desk with the ice still barely melted—someone must have been there just a moment ago.
She made her way to the first floor. Today had kept the butler on his feet all day, and when he saw her coming down, he hurried over.
Xiao Xuezhen asked, "Have you seen Xianwen?"
The butler brought up the matter with a resigned look, lowering his voice: "He just left a few minutes ago. He'd told me he was staying the night and leaving in the morning, but then he suddenly came back down and asked the driver to take him home. I couldn't stop him!"
