Sharing Dreams with My Bestie’s Cousin Chapter 281 - She and he are destined

Wen Zhi gazed at Meng Fan, her face shifting through various looks from furrowed brows to obvious distress, all vibrant and expressive.

Quietly, she grabbed the bread from the table and held it to Meng Fan's lips, murmuring, “Why not eat a little to settle your stomach first, then I'll help you sort it out.”

“No appetite at all, can't eat,” Meng Fan averted her head, dodging the food near her mouth.

Wen Zhi persuaded her, “It's bread.”

Meng Fan couldn't hold back a chuckle, “I know it's bread.”

Wen Zhi persisted, “It's delicious, really filling.”

Meng Fan found Wen Zhi's sincere coaxing quite funny.

Helplessly, she accepted the bread—twice as big as her face—nibbling at the corner, and remarked, “It's been ages since I tasted such genuine bread.”

“See?”

Watching Meng Fan finally take some bites, Wen Zhi relaxed considerably.

Meng Fan managed only a quarter of the bread before nausea hit, forcing her to quit.

Wen Zhi got her a glass of water, hoping it would ease things. Yet soon after sipping, Meng Fan dashed to the bathroom to throw up.

The retching sounds twisted Wen Zhi's heart with remorse, “I shouldn't have pushed her to eat.”

She knew her intentions were good, but the result was bad.

A few minutes passed before Meng Fan emerged from the bathroom, her complexion a bit ashen, “I overdid it; just a nibble would've sufficed.”

Wen Zhi's brows knitted tightly, “Meng Fan, you seem truly ill.”

“No need to fret, I'm perfectly fine.” Meng Fan saw how her quick eat-and-puke had alarmed Wen Zhi.

Despite her discomfort, she still comforted Wen Zhi, “Haven't been in Licheng for years, so the local weather and water don't agree with me yet; one good night's sleep will sort it. Watch tomorrow—I'll be full of energy.”

Her assurance aimed to soothe Wen Zhi.

Yet Wen Zhi's frown only deepened as she heard more.

After more talk and seeing Meng Fan drift off to sleep once more, Wen Zhi went off in search of Shang Hexing.

Unfamiliar with Red Mansion and wary of wandering, she failed to locate him inside and stepped out.

Dusk in Licheng crept in gradually, not fully dark until around ten at night. At under six now, the light mimicked a standard afternoon.

Wen Zhi draped her headscarf over her head, masking half her face, exposing just her lovely eyes.

“Cousin-in-law.”

A call rang out from behind.

That laid-back voice let Wen Zhi peg it as Han Yu.

Turning, she mused, “As expected: ‘Bundled like this and you spot me anyway. That sheepherding must've etched deep in your mind.’ ”

He drew alongside Wen Zhi, “Mostly 'cause you, cousin-in-law, possess a grace that eclipses everyone; impossible not to notice.”

Wen Zhi: “Flatterer.”

“Where's the flattery? Pure truth,” Han Yu grinned, flashing his bright teeth.

Wen Zhi's veiled lips curved widely.

Right then, Han Yu inquired, “How's Meng Fan holding up?”

“Not great,” Wen Zhi's smile vanished.

Han Yu tsked, shaking his head, “Climate shift that bad? She came to Licheng plenty before—how'd she cope then?”

Wen Zhi had no clue; her spirits sank, and she dropped the chat with Han Yu.

“Cousin-in-law?”

“Cousin-in-law, why the silent treatment?” Han Yu felt truly bored.

Still, Wen Zhi paid him no heed.

Han Yu sulked, blurting without thought, “Cousin-in-law, I'm dying to know how uncle fell for you—given his background, it wouldn't point to it… Truth be told, beyond decent looks, you lag behind Sister Weiyue in lots of ways—”

Halfway through, Han Yu grasped his slip-up. Instincts flared; he choked back the rest.

But… swallowing it changed nothing.

Wen Zhi had seized the key name already.

“Sister Weiyue?” Wen Zhi edged closer to Han Yu, smiling as she probed, “Who might that be?”

Han Yu figured Wen Zhi would rage, not quiz on Xie Weiyue!

Duh, she had to know Xie Weiyue.

Testing him, no doubt.

“Truth is, I'm not tight with Sister Weiyue,” Han Yu stated firmly, “You're my one and only aunt-in-law.”

Wen Zhi scoffed, “Not close, but 'Sister Weiyue'? What to trust?”

Han Yu silently cursed his loose tongue. This woman was sly; anger her more, and he'd forfeit his last sheepdog.

Time to grovel. Han Yu flashed a silly grin at Wen Zhi, “Xie Weiyue may fancy uncle, but love needs two; one-sided crushes fizzle out. You're superior—uncle adores you, and I'm jealous for real.”

Wen Zhi eyed Han Yu, “Jealous of what?”

Han Yu: “Uh…”

That mouth of his—how to admit envy?

Screw it, time to bolt rather than butter up. Bad spot to linger; uncle could appear anytime!

As Han Yu pivoted to flee, he froze solid.

True enough, overthinking summons the thing.

And uncle appeared.

Han Yu's face soured worse than bitter medicine.

Wen Zhi's doubts lingered unresolved; no letting Han Yu escape, especially post his revelation, “Hold on, you claimed I'm inferior to Xie Weiyue—is she pursuing Shang Hexing?”

That dropped the air into heavy quiet.

Post-question, Wen Zhi spotted Shang Hexing nearing, yet she composed herself—the guilty one sweating bullets was Han Yu.

Han Yu: “Uncle, hear me out…”

Wen Zhi: “He started it; said a girl Xie Weiyue chases you, and she's super impressive too.”

They spoke near-simultaneously, but Wen Zhi's voice overpowered Han Yu's, leaving him voiceless, throat jammed.

He knew doom had struck.

Shang Hexing's icy stare raked Han Yu, “Got too much free time?”

“Nope, super busy actually,” Han Yu grinned through his scalp-prickling fear, “Just passing, paused for a quick word with auntie.”

Shang Hexing: “Word on what?”

“On…” Han Yu winced, “life.”

Shang Hexing pressed, “Whose?”

The vibe—no overt fury, pure crushing pressure—hit Han Yu with utter desperation's taste.

Cornered perfectly!

“Mr. Shang, he didn't spout rubbish, did he?” Wen Zhi interjected, shifting to formal address.

Now distant Mr. Shang.

Shang Hexing stayed silent, but his glare at Han Yu chilled further. Han Yu's pulse raced; catching the cue, he spun, “Gonna check the sheep's whereabouts.”

With that, he vanished.

Shang Hexing faced Wen Zhi, face neutral: “Meng Fan any better?”

Wen Zhi: “Answer my question first.”

Shang Hexing sidestepped again: “That bread for Meng Fan—did she eat any?”

Wen Zhi held firm against deflection: “Mr. Shang, still no answer.”

She craved his direct accounting.

Needed to define Xie Weiyue's place between them.

“She's irrelevant.” Shang Hexing's reply stayed curt, no elaboration.

Wen Zhi pressed straight, “You two ever date?”

“Never.” Succinct as ever.

Wen Zhi compressed her lips, angling toward him.

Signaling disbelief, no intention to engage.

His brevity lacked conviction, failing to sway her.

Noting her pout, Shang Hexing sighed, “Xie Weiyue and I share zero ties, never dated. If folks link us, it's elders matchmaking; I've only ever had platonic dealings with her.”

This round, his words rang sincere, far from terse.

Wen Zhi pivoted back, “Why so detailed now?”

Shang Hexing: “Nothing links us, so little to tell.”

Wen Zhi kept composed outwardly, inwardly thrilled, “Got it.”

From Han Yu's earlier spiel, she'd feared Xie as another ex.

Plus, Han Yu's vibe painted Xie as stellar, elder-approved.

And her?

Did everyone endorse her with Shang Hexing?

Abruptly, morning's Han Yu jab resurfaced—her as the crafty climber snagging Shang Hexing.

Implying worthless save beauty and tricks for status leap as arm candy.

Tricks? Ploys?

Wen Zhi shook her head with a sigh, hard to assess pre-memory self clearly.

After all, diary-her had boldly pursued Shang Hexing!

“One matter,” Shang Hexing voiced.

Prairie gusts whipped by, dislodging Wen Zhi's headscarf, her thick curls dancing wildly.

Wen Zhi refocused, swept hair from her face, eyed him: “What?”

Shang Hexing stated, “Grandfather arrives tomorrow morning.”

Wen Zhi hesitated seconds, memories from Meng Fan's tales flooding back.

Shang Hexing's grandparents' late-life separation.

Rumor held grandfather stayed away; grandmother unforgiving, shunning him even postmortem.

From remote Licheng, frail age barred grueling flights and rugged drives to Red Mansion.

Never dreamed he'd journey anyway.

Shang Hexing added, “If he reaches safe this time, likely no more trips back to Bai City.”

Wen Zhi grasped—the elder too aged for travels.

“Wen Zhi,” he murmured gently.

She answered, then queried, “What is it?”

Shang Hexing paused, then drew her into his arms; wind billowed the scarf from her neck, coiling his arm—vivid red against his dark attire.

“Maybe fate binds us too,” he murmured.

Wen Zhi appeared puzzled, not grasping his intent.