As Wen Jianing looked around the room, taking in its layout, Song Tingyue was quietly studying her as well.
Her brows were knitted so tightly together they looked capable of squashing a fly. Her bright eyes darted around the room, her cheeks flushed red, as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t bring herself to.
“Don’t just stand there. Come in.” He jerked his chin toward the doorway. “Close the door. The wind’s strong.”
Of course, Song Tingyue knew exactly the kind of place she’d grown up in.
A luxurious villa in the French Concession. Her bedroom alone had been larger than this entire room.
A soft Simmons mattress. Plush wool carpets. A vanity crowded with dolls brought back from Hong Kong. The whole room had been tastefully decorated in Western style.
If the Wen family hadn’t taken him in, he probably never would have lived in a place like that in his lifetime.
They had never belonged to the same world.
No wonder that, as Wen Jianing grew older, she had come to despise him more and more, until she eventually refused to have anything to do with him.
The thought inexplicably irked him.
He bent over and rummaged through a drawer, his movements rough enough to make it bang noisily against the desk. After a moment, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
He had just shaken a cigarette free when he looked up—
—and met those clear black-and-white eyes.
He froze.
The cigarette hung awkwardly between his fingers. He couldn’t quite bring himself to put it in his mouth, nor could he leave it there.
In the end, he stuffed it back into the pack and slammed the drawer shut with a loud bang.
“Why are you still standing there? Doesn’t it get tiring?” His voice softened almost imperceptibly. “Sit down for a while. I’ll take you to the mess hall in a bit.”
He nodded toward the bed. The metal stool in the room was nothing but bare steel, while at least the bed had a thin mattress and was somewhat softer.
“No, thank you… Um…” Wen Jianing hesitated, her voice growing quieter and quieter. “Isn’t there… a bathroom in here? I need to use the restroom.”
By the end, she was barely louder than a mosquito.
Song Tingyue hadn’t caught what she’d said. Leaning slightly closer, he frowned.
“What was that? Speak up.”
His face still wore its usual stern expression, but his tone had already lost much of its earlier chill.
Blushing furiously, she repeated in a rush,
“I need to use the restroom.”
She had secretly searched the room the moment she’d walked in.
There wasn’t one.
On the way here, whenever the women on the truck needed to relieve themselves, the driver simply pulled over on a deserted stretch of road, and they’d all head into a grove of trees together.
She would sooner die than do something like that.
She’d barely dared drink any water during the entire trip, despite being thirsty.
But she’d been holding it for so long now that she was reaching her limit.
Song Tingyue paused before finally realizing why she’d looked so uncomfortable earlier.
His gaze drifted to her dry, cracked lips, and his brows drew together.
“Come with me.”
“There isn’t… a chamber pot?”
Wen Jianing stared at the crude public latrine before her.
An overpowering stench drifted out from inside, accompanied by the constant buzzing of flies.
She had grown up using flush toilets.
After the family home had been confiscated, the most primitive thing she’d ever been able to tolerate was a chamber pot.
But this…
This was even worse than relieving herself in the woods.
“What are you making that face for?” Song Tingyue shot her a glance. “Water’s scarce here. Every drop is precious. The men’s dorm only has this communal dry latrine.”
“Having somewhere sheltered from the wind and rain is already good enough. You’re still being picky?”
She bit her lip without saying a word, looking as though she might burst into tears at any moment.
She kept reminding herself over and over that she had to be prepared to endure hardship.
But after spending eighteen years surrounded by comfort, falling overnight from heaven into hell…
The fragile wall she’d built inside herself was already beginning to crumble.
Slowly, as though resigning herself to her fate, she shuffled forward.
She pinched her nose shut.
A few seconds later she couldn’t hold her breath anymore, so she let go to gasp for air before pinching it shut again.
After repeating the cycle several times, her eyes had turned glossy with tears, the tip of her nose flushed pink.
She looked like a frightened little deer, standing there pitifully.
Finally, still pinching her nose, she mumbled through a nasal voice,
“It’s too smelly… I’m not going.”
She’d rather burst her bladder.
If tears could replace going to the bathroom, she thought she could probably cry enough to fill a basin.
Song Tingyue took a deep breath.
He stared at her for two long seconds before blurting out gruffly,
“What a spoiled little princess.”
Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode back toward the dormitory.
Wen Jianing thought he’d gotten angry.
Thought he’d finally had enough of her.
She’d come all this way to trouble him, and she still couldn’t shake off the pampered habits she’d grown up with.
She forced herself not to cry.
There was no one here who would wipe away her tears anymore.
Crying meant admitting weakness.
She absolutely refused.
The urge to pee became more and more unbearable.
She looked hesitantly toward the dry latrine.
If I actually died from holding it in… that would be too embarrassing.
Just as she was steeling herself to go inside—
Footsteps suddenly pounded toward her from behind.
“Here!”
She turned instinctively and caught what Song Tingyue tossed into her hands.
A thick stack of soft toilet paper.
“The paper in there is rough. It’ll chafe.”
“This one’s softer.”
As he spoke, he pulled out his cigarette pack again.
Breaking off the sponge filters from two cigarettes, he didn’t give her time to react before gently stuffing one into each of her nostrils.
The movement looked rough.
His touch, surprisingly, wasn’t.
“There.”
“The tobacco smell’s stronger than the stink.”
He looked her up and down before letting out a helpless sigh.
“Well, Your Highness?”
“Will this satisfy you?”
The teasing title, paired with his lazy tone, caught Wen Jianing completely off guard.
She suddenly remembered something she’d once said to him.
“I’m the precious young miss of this family, and you’re just someone my parents picked up off the street to be my bodyguard! Without my permission, you’re not allowed to leave my side!”
The words she’d thrown at him like a weapon had finally come back around to strike herself instead.
Back then, she’d only been a little girl.
Overbearing.
Willful.
Rude.
But when she’d said those things, it was only because she couldn’t stand seeing Song Tingyue getting close to another girl from school.
She’d always been fiercely possessive of the people she cared about.
She’d wanted him all to herself.
She hadn’t wanted him looking at anyone else.
Seeing her still standing there in a daze, Song Tingyue continued,
“The latrines over in the family quarters are much better than this—cleaner too.”
“Once you move over there, you won’t have to put up with this anymore.”
“But for now, you’ll just have to make do.”
After a bit more coaxing, Wen Jianing finally nodded and walked toward the entrance.
Her nose was filled with the faint scent of tobacco—the same smell that lingered in his room.
Truth be told, she hated the sharp, smoky odor.
But compared to the smell of the latrine…
It was infinitely preferable.
After taking a few steps, she turned back uneasily.
“What if someone else comes in?”
Song Tingyue folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe, looking down at her through half-lidded eyes.
He ground his teeth before finally squeezing out,
“I’ll stand guard out here.”
“With me here, not even a tank’s getting through.”
“Now go.”
Only then did Wen Jianing finally feel reassured enough to go inside.
Song Tingyue leaned against the wall and ran both hands roughly through his hair.
People always said girls changed dramatically once they grew up.
How had this girl become more delicate with age?
She could make using the bathroom into such an ordeal.
“Tch.”
He clicked his tongue.
Now how am I supposed to take care of her?
Back at the Wen household, her parents and the servants had shared the responsibility. All he’d needed to do was fulfill his role as an older brother.
Now…
The entire burden rested on his shoulders alone.
This was going to be one hell of a mission.