Daughters of the Elite - Chapter 105

Qian Meigui hadn’t told Song Sheng anything. She couldn’t.

For days since she found out about the picture, she kept quiet, composed. She planned out Song Sheng to find her for two reasons: to denounce herself from the Song family so that Lin Anni would think she’s on their side and so that she could see him, even if it were for a moment.

She knew that her words hurt him; he didn’t expect her to treat him so cruel, but she had to make it all the more convincing; this was more a game now than solving a crime.

She played the role of a loving niece, and she was getting good at it.

Qian Meigui smiled back at the workers that watched, including their butler. She knew that the children and everyone else were innocent; this was something between a.d.u.l.ts.

Qian Meigui nearly thought this was amusing because she was a part of something that she would hear briefly about as a child, wanting to know more information by the a.d.u.l.ts, but they wouldn’t tell you anything, and if they did, it would be vague. But she wasn’t laughing. She was a part of something serious. And she was getting close, she could feel it.

Qian Meigui looked out the window of her guest room, waiting until the deep-blue sky changed colour. She was going to see Song Sheng. It had almost been two months. She even left school for this reason, so she’ll be behind a term, but other matters were more important.

When the dusk turned to night, she turned off the lights of her room. She wore a coat over her clothes, carrying a small bag with her. She then the door of the room slightly, peaking out. There was no one. So she swiftly squeezed through the parted gap, closing the door carefully behind her.

Qian Meigui walked down the hall with careful, quiet steps, trying not to creak the floorboards. She managed to get to the front door, but she knew it made noises. Qian Meigui took a vile of oil from her bag, placing them in the hinges until it was enough to slip out. After she got out, she felt like she could breathe again; the fresh air and night crickets welcomed her. Taking a pair of sunglasses from her bag, she placed them over her eyes and walked.

The hotel wasn’t far. Qian Meigui had passed it many times shopping with Lin Anni. She had to speak to Song Sheng privately, but more importantly, she needed to see him, more for herself.

Qian Meigui went to the front desk where the receptionist had told her someone already checked in. Therefore, she went up to the elevator, her chest-thumped out of her ears. She shouldn’t feel nervous, but if it was as if she was seeing him for the first time again, after they confessed, sneaking around, trying to calm the thrill and dangerousness of it.

She stepped away from the elevator, walking down the hall room with identical, parallel doors. She then approached the biggest one on the floor.

She knocked on the door, once, twice. She heard hurried steps approach the door, and Song Sheng was there springing it wide open. His eyes were vast and wild, unbelieving. She could see the stark creases under his eyes, from restless nights. She left him in the dark, without a word. He held onto the frame of the door, blinking, not sure if he was seeing her image right, seemingly afraid to look away as if she was someone that he imagined.

Even she couldn’t believe it. She missed Song Sheng terribly, but she had to maintain her act; her family also didn’t know that they were together, and the last thing she needed was for anyone to harm him. He had no part in something that happened eleven, nearly twelve years ago.

Her heart raced at the sight of him. He wore grey sweatpants and a white shirt that ended at his waistband. Song Sheng was something that came out a dream; if they weren’t together before, she would have stayed single, living a life of independence because she’d rather be alone if she weren’t with him.

But he was in front of her, his black hair falling over his eyes beautifully.

They stared at each other carefully; their chests expanded from their pounding hearts. And Qian Meigui wondered if he noticed.

Song Sheng kept still, one hand leaning against the frame of the door, the other on the knob. But Qian Meigui moved forward, taking steps inside, meeting him hard. He reacted by grasping her in his arms, hugging her tightly, sighing in relief. They held onto each other for quite some time, Qian Meigui wasn’t sure how long.

She felt him kiss her on the head, and she exhaled deeply in relief. So he wasn’t angry as she thought he would be.

Song Sheng backed away slightly, but not letting go. He held her face between his hands, his eyes darting all over hers, making sure she was all right. His gold-flecked eyes were dim and hollow, worried.

“How are you?” he asked her with a breathless tone. She felt his handshake on her face, and her heart ached. She then reached up to grab it from her cheek. “I am well, Sheng. I’m sorry,” she said.

Song Sheng shook his head, leaning in to press their foreheads together. “Don’t apologize,” he breathed. His words caressed her skin, hot. She missed him dearly, desperately, passionately. It was her fault for leaving so abruptly. “How are the twins?” she asked him.

“They didn’t know at first. But now, the twins are helping in any way they can,” he told her. Qian Meigui shook her head, “I don’t want to involve them, not any of you, which is why I didn’t say anything at all.” Song Sheng nodded, understanding.

He let go of her face, taking her hand instead, guiding her to a table with candlelights and food. She looked at it in awe. “What’s this?” she asked him.

He popped open a bottle of wine, “I need you to tell me everything.” He passed her a glass, “This will calm your nerves.” Qian Meigui took a seat across him; she let out a breath, downing the wine. After a few moments, it kicked in, and it did make things easier.

She took a photograph from her bag, passing it to him.

Song Sheng observed it. “What’s wrong with it?” he questioned curiously.

“My aunt told me that my mother left the family to marry my father, that both families were not on good terms. But in the photo, it’s clear that it wasn’t the case. My parents are in the picture, happy, next to Lin Anni and the man who killed my parents.”

Song Sheng stilled, glancing up at her astonishingly. “You remembered?” he asked her.

“I never forgot,” she said sharply, resentfully. “But I didn’t know who he was.”

Song Sheng nodded. He observed the picture, studying it. “What are you going to do?” he asked her.

Qian Meigui chuckled. “I need proof, evidence, and more importantly, to find him.”

Song Sheng looked at her, “all right,” he said, agreeing.

Qian Meigui’s eye widened. “You’re not going to stop me?” she asked him astonishingly.

Song Sheng chuckled as well. “Why would I? It’s dangerous, yes. But who am I to tell you not to do something you’ve wanted to do since it happened?”

He then leaned over the table, “But I want to help too.” Qian Meigui nodded enthusiastically; she will no longer keep him in the dark. “All right,” she answered. Song Sheng smiled at her with his beautiful, wicked grin.

Qian Meigui smiled at him back appreciatively.

After a few moments, Song Sheng gave her an update on what he’s done with Yu Qingge, setting a trap for her in the industry. He also told her about Su Feng’s reaction to her identity; it made her laugh. He also went in on what Song Ren will do to people if she found out that any harm came to her sister; it comforted Qian Meigui, distracted her from the heaviness that weighed on her. Song Sheng kept gazing at her, not tearing his eyes away. She pursed her lips, flushing as she took another wine glass. When she turned red, she admitted, “I’ve missed you.”

She heard Song Sheng exhale as if he was sighing in relief. He then rose from his seat, walking towards her. Her chest pounded, nervously. It had only been nearly two months, but it was all too much, too long.

He paused in front of her, lifting her chin. Her eyes shot up to his, meeting the burnt gold in front of the brassy hues of his eyes, sharp and bright under the moonlight and candles. He was charming; no other man compared to him, his gentleness, his understanding of her, his skill at reading other people well with merely a few words exchanged in the conversation.

Her chest pounded as they stared at each other. It felt thrilling, like a huntress finding a wolf, but instead of killing it for its fur and meat, she would join him in the woods, running freely.

His fingers underneath her skin burned hot; her breathing hitched just by the close contact.

Song Sheng playfully began to circle soothing strokes on her face. He gazed into her eyes as he caressed her skin; he stopped at her mouth, rubbing the seams of her lips.

He was also red from the wine; though, they weren’t entirely drunk, just persuaded by distance and longing.

Song Sheng leaned down, grasping her face between his hands, kissing the lines of her lips, testing it. It wasn’t a deep kiss; it was gentle, asking for permission. He then gave her more pecks on her lips, moving onto her jaw, her cheek, ears, temples, and forehead. He kissed her playfully, like a child, she laughed as he attacked her with teasing kisses. He smiled at her.

He then rose again, reaching down to grab her hand, she took him, and he guided her to the bed. When they went under the covers, he gave her soothing strokes to compel her to sleep. “Don’t scare me like that again,” he told her, pleaded. She nodded, “I promise,” she said to him. Song Sheng smiled, “sleep,” he told her, embracing her body.

But Qian Meigui wasn’t tired; she needed him, not to help her sleep, even though they’ve both been restless, but she needed him for that sense of togetherness, merging reassurance. She wanted him. “I’m not tired,” was all she said to stir him awake.