Now Zhuang Jiayi suddenly said she couldn’t go—
“Why not?” Meng Songnian asked.
“My favorite pianist is coming to Guangzhou for a concert, and it’s at the same time.”
“That old Italian guy?”
Zhuang Jiayi frowned slightly. “It’s Mr. Molteni.”
“……”
Just hearing about this old guy—ten years older than himself—made Meng Songnian uncomfortable. Every year, Zhuang Jiayi would fly to Italy for his Christmas concert, and now the man was coming right to their doorstep to stir up trouble?
Meng Songnian gave a couple of dissatisfied grunts but said nothing. It wasn’t until after the meal that he casually informed Meng Qinghuai:
“You’ll go to Spain in my place.”
–
“…He just took out a pair of Earplugs right in front of me. I was stunned.”
“Come on, if you’re going to take out Earplugs, just do it. Why call it a small box and make it sound so ambiguous?”
“How is that my fault for misunderstanding?”
At the elderly home, Guan Yingtang, now much more relaxed, finally couldn’t hold back and vented to Jiang Kewei about last night.
Jiang Kewei laughed for a whole minute, nearly crying. “You should have snapped back and said you thought President Meng was looking for condoms in the middle of the night—see how he’d react.”
“……”
—Otherwise, what did Miss Guan think the Box was?
When Meng Qinghuai had asked that question, Guan Yingtang had stayed silent for a few seconds, then turned over and played dead.
Thinking back now, she realized she hadn’t played it well— she should have retorted.
“Forget it.” In that kind of situation, Guan Yingtang could only be sharp in her own mind. “There’s no way I’d say something like that.”
The name “Guan Yingtang” represented tradition, gentleness, learning, and etiquette—the very model of a proper lady in everyone’s eyes. How could she possibly say something so blunt and direct?
Even if Meng Qinghuai really had taken out a Box of condoms, with her persona, she’d have to act out several layers of bashful seduction first.
“We’re married— what’s there that can’t be said?” Jiang Kewei said carelessly. “If it were me, I’d just buy a box of condoms and put it in the drawer, let him hand it to me tonight.”
Guan Yingtang felt a bit awkward and lightly kicked Jiang Kewei under the table. Jiang Kewei realized and quickly corrected herself, “Condom, condom.”
Then she comforted Guan Yingtang, “Don’t worry, the old ladies here are all hard of hearing.”
Just then, one of the old ladies at the table played an eight-dot tile.
Guan Yingtang: “Mahjong!”
She skillfully pushed out her tiles. “Thank you, Qingyise.”
Coming from a prestigious family, Guan Yingtang naturally had an interest in Chinese traditions.
But this was a different kind of tradition—though Peking Opera was nice, nothing cleared the mind like building the Great Wall with Mahjong tiles.
Back in her school days, she and Jiang Kewei would sneak a table into the dorm to play.
After returning to Hong Kong Island, she’d barely had any opportunities like this— when she wanted to play, it was usually just on her phone.
Now, playing Mahjong with a bunch of retired old ladies, Jiang Kewei had really hit the mark for her today.
The automatic Mahjong table shuffled the tiles. A few seconds later, a new round began.
As she picked up her tiles, Jiang Kewei kept chatting, “So, he still hasn’t answered his dad’s question?”
Guan Yingtang nodded.
As for whether Meng Qinghuai had discussed last night’s topic with Meng Songnian again this morning, she had no idea.
“What about you?” Jiang Kewei asked. “Do you like Meng Qinghuai?”
Guan Yingtang’s hands paused.
Like him?
She couldn’t say she had real feelings for him yet—at most, she didn’t dislike him and appreciated his gentlemanly manners at times.
If she had to dig deeper—
Guan Yingtang admitted that she did have a shallow fondness for his broad shoulders and narrow waist.
After all, she’d met plenty of men who pursued her, but none had such perfect proportions as him.
Especially when he wore a shirt with the top button undone— that restrained, predatory air was something else.
“He’s got a nice figure,” Guan Yingtang commented fairly.
“What do you mean?”
Suddenly, one of the old ladies at the table chimed in, “She’s just lusting after his body.”
Guan Yingtang: “……”
The speaker was Ms. Chu, 69 years old, the Mahjong ace of the elderly home. She’d been specially invited by Jiang Kewei today to play a few rounds with Guan Yingtang.
Guan Yingtang shot Jiang Kewei a look— “Didn’t you say they were hard of hearing?” Jiang Kewei was laughing so hard at Ms. Chu’s comment that she could barely sit up, giving her a thumbs up. “Gotta hand it to the old ladies of Chaoyang District.”
Guan Yingtang didn’t get the joke, but she pressed her lips together, refusing to lose her Hong Kong Island heiress poise. “We’re married, so what? It’s not illegal.”
“You say that, but you don’t dare do anything,” Ms. Chu said, eyes glued to her tiles, sharp as ever. “On my wedding night, I counted every mole on my husband’s body.”
Jiang Kewei almost collapsed on the table laughing.
Who said these old ladies were hard of hearing? With a tongue that sharp, it was a shame she wasn’t in court helping Jiang Kewei defend clients.
Guan Yingtang closed her mouth— she really couldn’t top Ms. Chu’s wild comment.
She didn’t know how many moles Meng Qinghuai had.
But as luck would have it, last night, when he leaned over to get the Earplugs, his pajama collar was open.
In the dim light, she’d accidentally noticed a small, faint mole just below his collarbone.
That spot—there was something inexplicably sexy about it.
She couldn’t help but look once, and then again.
“Self-draw, all three pay.” Ms. Chu suddenly slapped down a tile.
Guan Yingtang snapped back to reality. She’d lost both in words and in the game this round—unconvinced, but she had to admit defeat—
Whether in Mahjong or in handling men, the older the ginger, the spicier it gets.
–
Now that she was living with Meng Qinghuai, Guan Yingtang didn’t dare stay out too late.
She said goodbye to Ms. Chu and the others at around five, and by the time she returned to Jinghua Mansion, the sky was already darkening.
No one was downstairs. Thinking Meng Qinghuai wasn’t home yet, Guan Yingtang went upstairs to change—only to unexpectedly see him sitting in the study on the second floor.
She froze for a moment, feeling a guilty pang as if she’d been “messing around” outside, but quickly composed herself.
“You didn’t go out?”
His schedule had changed, so Meng Qinghuai had to work overtime to handle some things in advance. He looked up at Guan Yingtang. “Go where?”
Guan Yingtang wasn’t about to let him hear that she wished her husband were out all the time. “I meant, don’t you have any social events?”
Meng Qinghuai: “I turned them down.”
“……”
Meng Qinghuai closed the laptop in front of him and looked straight at Guan Yingtang. “Just as well, I need to talk to you.”
“?”
Meng Qinghuai got up and walked over to her. “Tomorrow I have to fly to Spain for a banquet. You’re coming with me.”
Guan Yingtang was stunned. “Why?”
“I need a female companion for the event.”
Guan Yingtang’s mind raced.
Why should she tag along on his business trip?
She could imagine how boring that banquet would be— she’d have to wear one of those elegant gowns that screamed “famous heiress,” and put on her usual act of saying the right thing to the right person, no matter who they were.
Hadn’t she done enough of that on Hong Kong Island?
Besides, this was the perfect chance to enjoy herself while her husband was away—why waste it?
“Sorry, Mr. Meng.” Guan Yingtang paused, feigning difficulty. “I’ve never been anyone’s female companion before.”
The implication being: you’d better find someone more qualified.
“Then start with this time.” Meng Qinghuai was unmoved. “There will be many occasions in the future where we’ll need to attend together.”
So he was using her status as Mrs. Meng to make this a requirement.
Guan Yingtang lifted the corners of her lips, feeling a rebellious streak. “You could easily find someone more experienced to be your companion.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” she added.
The study fell silent.
Meng Qinghuai lowered his gaze, looking at her.
Their eyes met. In the warm, soft light, his shirt was unbuttoned at the top.
His jawline was sharp and smooth, his Adam’s apple prominent, and that faint mole on his collarbone half-hidden, tantalizing.
For some reason, Ms. Chu’s comment about “lusting after his body” popped into her mind, and Guan Yingtang reflected inwardly—
Maybe… she wasn’t as above it all as she thought.
The air was unusually quiet. Meng Qinghuai didn’t say a word for a long time, and Guan Yingtang couldn’t read his mood.
She hesitated, wondering whether to say something to ease the tension, when the man spoke calmly:
“I mind.”