Chapter 49 Part 1

Wen Zenian turned and walked away after speaking.

Meng Ning stood there alone as a staff member entered to go over the procedure. Spotting her, the staffer said, “Hey, Cara, you’re here early. Perfect—want to run through the flow together? The jellyfish explanation should come right after the appetizers.”

“Oh, sure,” Meng Ning replied, walking over.

The scene felt all too real, all too ordinary, making Wen Zenian’s earlier moment under the aquarium’s dreamlike lights—her hand lifting to toy with Meng Ning’s lips—seem like nothing more than a dream.

A strange sensation stirred in Meng Ning’s heart: if she asked the staff now whether Wen Zenian had even been there, they would probably look at her oddly and say no, she must have imagined it.

It was all just her illusion.

She had fallen into a dream, losing her senses entirely. She had thought she could keep her feelings in check even if she liked Wen Zenian, but now her very perception was turning upside down.

Fortunately, the children soon poured in, their noisy chatter diluting her swirling thoughts.

After the appetizers were served, the microphone was handed to Meng Ning. It was her first time leading a tour, guiding the group of kids past the aquarium tanks one by one.

When she reached the Peach Blossom Jellyfish, she paused. The moisturizing lipstick Wen Zenian had wiped away left her lips dry, her voice catching slightly as she spoke—as if the numbness from Wen Zenian’s touch lingered, echoing all the way to her heart.

Unthinkingly, she bit her lower lip.

She completed the task smoothly and asked if she could leave early, receiving an affirmative nod.

Meng Ning stepped out of the banquet hall and passed by the lounge. With the evening’s events, no one was using it; the lights were off. Yet a male voice called her name from inside: “Cara.”

Meng Ning approached.

Of course—that voice had sounded familiar. It was Eden, the investor.

His presence here suggested the banquet was for a group of investors.

Meng Ning’s figure blocked the corridor light as Eden strained to open his eyes. “Could you get me a glass of water?”

He looked like he’d had too much to drink.

Meng Ning tried to find a server, but everyone was tied up at the two banquet halls tonight. She grabbed a bottle of water, flicked on the lounge lights, and stepped inside to hand it to him.

Eden called after her: “Cara.”

Something had already felt off by then, but she didn’t stop, continuing toward the exit.

“Cara.” Eden caught up and draped his arm over her shoulder.

Meng Ning felt ridiculous. Before shoving him away, she had even rationally considered whether her rejection should be more “tactful.”

She wasn’t sure how badly tearing into him outright might affect Wen Zenian’s business.

But in that split-second hesitation, Eden’s fingertips brushed lightly along her bare arm.

Chicken skin prickled across Meng Ning’s body. She thought she’d grown numb to so many things, her senses dulled at times. But the touch of a man with ill intentions felt nothing like Wen Zenian’s.

Were there cameras in the corridor? Undeterred, the man leaned toward her temple, as if to sniff or kiss her.

Meng Ning shoved hard, but the tall foreign man’s arm was incredibly strong. His fingertips clung to her upper arm like some slimy sea plant, slick and nauseating on instinct. In that instant, she instinctively recalled the feel of Wen Zenian’s fingers.

Moist. Warm. Soft.

It was pure instinct, like a drowning person thrashing for air when held under the waves.

Just then, a touch like that truly gripped her wrist—beautiful, like an illusion.

Followed by a sharp yank backward. Eden hadn’t expected anyone else; turning, he saw Wen Zenian’s stunning yet furious face.

She pulled Meng Ning into her embrace, checked that she was unharmed, then positioned herself to shield her—and delivered a resounding slap.

Her makeup was heavy tonight, and instead of her usual small diamond earrings, she wore a long diamond ear chain: three strands of diamonds set in platinum, trailing down her slender neck.

She’d put her full force into that slap. The momentum swung her right hand, sending the ear chain whipping across her own face and drawing a faint blood mark.

The chain had some weight; it slipped from her earlobe, the clasp giving way, and clattered onto the marble-patterned floor tiles.

By now, a crowd had gathered. Wen Zenian’s furious curse rang out alongside the ear chain’s clatter: “She’s mine! This is C Hotel!”

Her chest heaved. “How dare you! You stupid bastard!”

The profanity clashed with her elegant evening gown. That faint blood trace even accented her heavy makeup, making her look both beautiful and ruthless.

Eden clutched his face, clearly stunned.

In context, Wen Zenian’s words could be taken to mean: this was C Hotel, Meng Ning was an employee under her protection.

But Meng Ning noticed the order: she had said “She’s mine” first, then mentioned the hotel.

Wen Zenian turned to Meng Ning. “Are you okay?”

Meng Ning nodded.

She shrugged off her suit jacket and draped it over Meng Ning’s shoulders. “Come with me.”

Eden’s wife rushed over, her first concern his swelling face. No need to wonder why she was invited or why he acted so recklessly—he made the money, so he held the power. That was exactly why women needed their own income.

Nearby, an employee whispered, “Gwyneth is… so badass!”

“If all the management were like that, sexual harassment wouldn’t be an issue!”

Meng Ning wasn’t sure whether to take it as equal treatment from management or something just for her.

She believed Wen Zenian would protect any girl in the same situation, but she wasn’t certain it would be with such decisive fury.

Wen Zenian’s anger had been real. That expensive diamond ear chain had fallen in disarray, its diamonds scattering every which way, and she hadn’t spared it a glance.

The blood mark on her face still lingered.

Wen Zenian led her straight out to a sightseeing cart, sitting beside her with a small gap between them. Meng Ning wondered if the night breeze chilled Wen Zenian’s bare, pale arms.

One elbow propped on the cart’s armrest, she rested her chin in her hand, gazing at the tropical foliage whipping past, lost in thought.

Meng Ning asked softly, “Don’t you need to go back and handle the aftermath?”

“Aftermath of what?” Wen Zenian’s tone was flat.

Meng Ning didn’t know how to press.

The cart rolled on, her jacket still warm on Meng Ning’s shoulders, carrying her body heat and perfume. The air held a faint mist from the day’s rain. The cart stopped in front of the hotel’s main building; Wen Zenian’s fine high heels splashed lightly in a puddle on the gravel. “Get out.”

She offered no explanation to the driver for bringing Meng Ning to the main building. If she’d wanted, she could have said she needed to question Meng Ning about the evening or give her a private room after the ordeal.

Wen Zenian apparently saw no need. No one dared question her.

She led Meng Ning upstairs, swiped her card to open the administrative suite, and said, “Inside.”

All commands.

Meng Ning stepped in. Wen Zenian kicked off her high heels. “Want to shower?”

She guided Meng Ning toward the bathroom. “You go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

Leaning against the wall, her expression humorless, Meng Ning looked at her face. “You’re scratched.”

“What?”

“Your face—the ear chain grazed it earlier.”

Wen Zenian paused, touching her cheek and frowning slightly, as if only now feeling the sting.

But she dropped her hand and frowned again, this time with impatience. “It’s nothing. Go shower now.”

Meng Ning did need one.

The middle-aged man’s oily fingertips had left a sticky residue like sea slime, impossible to shake.

She handed back the jacket; Wen Zenian tossed it onto the nearby Beauty Recliner.

Meng Ning slipped into the bathroom.

The hot water had a soothing power. The man’s breath on her temple had itched, sending shivers of disgust like centipedes crawling up her arm.

She showered for a long time before emerging. Sure enough, Wen Zenian was still posted at the bathroom door, arms folded against the wall, staring out the window—but with eyes that seemed to take in nothing.

Only one earlobe still dangled an ear chain.

She asked Meng Ning, “Will the bathrobe make you uncomfortable?”

A bathrobe was so intimate, held closed by a single belt safeguarding all privacy—perhaps unsettling after what had happened.

Before Meng Ning could answer, she yanked open the bathroom door, grabbed Meng Ning’s worn dress, and tossed it straight into the trash. Meng Ning said, “That’s…”

“I know,” Wen Zenian replied flatly, her anger at Eden now cooled. “You borrowed it from the hotel.”

Curtly, she added, “I’ll handle it.”

She went to her closet, pulled out a neatly folded shirt and trousers, and handed them to Meng Ning. They carried a faint, indelible perfume mingled with the laundry’s fresh scent.

“Change. I won’t look.”

It was Meng Ning’s first time wearing Wen Zenian’s clothes.

She emerged into the sitting area to find Wen Zenian on their usual white sofa, a bottle of liquor and two glasses on the low table before her.

Meng Ning glanced—it wasn’t the brand Wen Zenian had given her, but another foreign whiskey, deep amber.

“Come sit.”

Meng Ning sat. Wen Zenian asked, “Want some wine?”

Meng Ning shook her head. Wen Zenian said, “I do. Keep me company.”

Tonight she chose square tumblers; holding one felt grounding. She poured two glasses; the first sip burned fiercely, making Meng Ning wrinkle her nose.

Smiling at Wen Zenian, she quipped, “Does one glass like this cost half my monthly salary?”

Wen Zenian ignored the deflection, not setting down her empty glass but swirling it lightly by the wrist.

Softly, Meng Ning said, “Do you have a first-aid kit? Let me tend to the scratch on your face.”

“I’m fine,” Wen Zenian replied, every sentence toneless. She set the glass down, poured another, and looked up. “Want more?”

Meng Ning shook her head.

Wen Zenian lifted her glass, her crimson lipstick imprinting the rim. The liquor was potent; Meng Ning wasn’t sure if she’d eaten tonight and couldn’t help reminding her, “Drink less.”

“I need it,” Wen Zenian said. “To cool my temper.”

Meng Ning replied, “I’m okay.”

“I know you think you’re okay.” Wen Zenian nodded. “That’s what pisses me off, Meng Ning. Why do you act like your feelings don’t matter?”

These seemed like two rhetorical questions that didn’t require an answer. Wen Zenian set down her wine glass and slowly exhaled a breath. “Where do you want to rest tonight? Here, or back at the dorm? If you stay here, you don’t need to worry about anything happening. I have work to do.”

Meng Ning thought for a moment. “I’ll head back to the dorm.”

Wen Zenian seemed to agree that returning to familiar surroundings was best. “Alright. I’ll get someone to take you.”

“No need.” Meng Ning hurriedly refused. “I’ll walk back on my own.”

Wen Zenian lifted her gaze to glance at her but said nothing more. She simply nodded.

Meng Ning stood up. “Then I’m off.”

She turned to leave but couldn’t resist looking back over her shoulder. “Don’t drink any more.”

Wen Zenian remained seated, not lifting her head. She merely offered Meng Ning the view of her pale, slender nape and murmured softly, “Mm.”

Meng Ning walked back to the dorm alone.