Chapter 42: A Villain’s Sincerity is the Most Fatal

Carrying a bundle of questions, Jiang Huan rushed into Hunshi early in the morning, firing off a series of inquiries at Shan Di Meng.

“Shan Di Meng, you left too early yesterday! Let me tell you, Bai Jingchuan seems to have something against seeing doctors. When the doctor came out of Wen Li’s ward and noticed that Bai Jingchuan looked uncomfortable, he used a stethoscope to check his heart. He thought something was off and wanted to take him for further examination. But Bai Jingchuan resisted fiercely, refusing to go. It was strange, and I had to help him get out of it. But why couldn’t they hear his heartbeat? Don’t you think that’s weird? He also acted strangely when he drank too much before, and even rested here. Did you notice anything unusual about him then?”

“No.” Shan Di Meng seemed reluctant to continue discussing Bai Jingchuan. “How’s Wen Li doing?”

“She still needs to stay in the hospital for a few more days. She’s strange too. When Mom heard she was sick, she just said over the phone, ‘It’d be better if she died,’ and hung up. How could someone hate their daughter so much… You left too early yesterday; you should’ve heard that call. I couldn’t tell if it was concern or a curse for Wen Li’s death…”

“Is this why you came to see me—to talk about all this?”

Jiang Huan was taken aback by the question. “Huh?”

“You’ve been talking nonstop about Bai Jingchuan and Wen Li since you walked in. I feel like a punching bag. Shouldn’t you ask how I’m doing, or how I’m feeling?”

Eager to share, Jiang Huan didn’t know how to apologize—of course, there were things she wanted to say, concerns she wanted to express, but she had gotten into the habit of blurting everything out without considering Shan Di Meng’s feelings. She raised her hands in surrender: “I’m sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?”

The wind chimes jingled softly as the gloom on Shan Di Meng’s face slowly dissipated, but his smile was odd. Ever since Bai Jingchuan had grown closer to him, Shan Di Meng’s forced smiles had become more frequent. Jiang Huan wasn’t stupid; she could see it clearly. He turned around: “Didn’t you promise me absolute power with that card? Remember when we drew poker cards, and you agreed I could use it? Well, now I want to use it.”

This was an agreement Jiang Huan had made with Shan Di Meng during a poker game. If he drew the Joker from a deck of cards, he could make a request, and Jiang Huan would have no choice but to comply. At the time, Shan Di Meng had drawn both the black and white Jokers in one go, blinking innocently and saying it was just good luck—but he had never used it, and she had almost forgotten about it. The wind chimes jingled again as the door creaked open, letting in a draft. The sound was subtle, almost like her soul had momentarily drifted out of her body, watching herself from a third-person perspective—

A fleeting moment of disorientation.

“So, you’re using your absolute power. Tell me, what do you want me to do?”

Shan Di Meng didn’t avoid her gaze. “Go on a date with me.”

He had never spoken so bluntly before. Jiang Huan felt that strange premonition again—Shan Di Meng had started to change after Bai Jingchuan appeared and grew closer to him. Before Bai Jingchuan came along, Shan Di Meng had been like a calm, dependable friend always by her side. Now, however, a hidden competitiveness had emerged, like a trap waiting to snap shut at any moment.

The sudden dangerous aura emanating from him left Jiang Huan flustered. He didn’t give her any reason to refuse either. All she could do was silently chant to herself: This feeling of being pursued is terrifying. How could someone’s demeanor change so drastically? That sense of possession—it was... exhilarating.

But Jiang Huan remained outwardly calm: “Alright, where are we going?”

________________________________________

The city center was bustling with people; exhibitions and restaurants required long waits in line, completely different from the relaxed pace of Renwu Road. When Shan Di Meng appeared, he stood out—wearing a thin black denim shirt and light khaki pants, his white T-shirt blending seamlessly with his skin tone. His entire presence radiated a luminous whiteness, complemented by his silver hair, making him look like the perfect boyfriend straight out of a 2D manga. Though he attracted many glances, crowded places weren’t suited for him. His usual composed rhythm was disrupted as he navigated through the throng, and Jiang Huan felt a pang of guilt. With Bai Jingchuan, it was different—he was always caught up in unexpected situations, which made her want to tease him. Watching Shan Di Meng walk over with tickets in hand, Jiang Huan began to wonder why someone who didn’t seem interested in exhibitions suddenly invited her to a black-and-white manga exhibition.

Shan Di Meng, however, seemed genuinely pleased. “Let’s go.”

“Good thing we made a reservation; otherwise, we’d have waited forever.” Jiang Huan wiped his temple with a tissue. “Don’t you find it too crowded?”

“Do you think I’m some kind of otherworldly being who can’t handle crowds?”

“It’s just not worth wasting time on this kind of exhibition. You can find 2D stuff anywhere...”

“I’ve actually been looking forward to this black-and-white exhibition for a while. As you know, I don’t use this poker card lightly.”

Jiang Huan didn’t understand. This seemed like a manga exhibition that could be finished in ten minutes. The comics on the walls, the sofas and decorations inside, and even the clothes on the racks were all black and white. Stepping into the exhibition felt like stepping into a monochrome manga world. While it might be novel for teenage girls, for Jiang Huan—a working adult who had once enjoyed drawing black-and-white four-panel comics with pencil in her youth—it was nothing special.

Among the comics on the wall were shoujo manga, action series, and life-sized standees people could pose with. Jiang Huan stopped in front of a shoujo manga panel. “Do I have a bit of a protagonist vibe?”

“Very much so.”

“Really?”

“Fierce, persistent, and skilled—everyone finds it hard to resist your passion.”

Jiang Huan shrank back slightly. “That sounds outdated. Rather than being a fiery heroine, I’d rather be a wounded warrior who fights to the end, copying others’ superpowers and slashing through obstacles until the final victory.”

“What if I were the boss standing in your way? Would you kill me?”

Pretending to hold a blade against Shan Di Meng’s neck, Jiang Huan wrinkled her nose and pinched his earlobe. “If it’s you, Dimon Gege, I’d consider sparing you.”

“Why?”

“You’re not my enemy—you’re my blood station and armory.” She cleverly shifted the topic. “But if manga characters lived in a black-and-white world, wouldn’t it be boring? Nowadays, colorful manga is all the rage.”

“These characters might not hate their monochrome existence as much as you think.”

“How could they not?” Jiang Huan pointed to the paper, pen, and desk. “This is practically the embodiment of my dull high school life.”

“On the contrary, I find it very comforting.” Shan Di Meng spoke sincerely. “It feels like coming home. Everything here is black and white—it’s safe.”

“Then I should dress in black and white, skip the lipstick, and try to blend into this monochrome world too.”

“No need. You look perfectly natural just the way you are. I love seeing you as the only splash of color here—it’s fascinating.”

“Looking at it for too long will get annoying.”

“Not at all—I promise. I’m very used to it, and I’m grateful for this uniqueness.”

“Huh?” Jiang Huan didn’t understand. Had Shan Di Meng already praised her this much? With a mischievous streak, she went to the merchandise area and bought a pack of black-and-white anime candy beans. “There might be colored beans in here. Can you pick them out?”

Shan Di Meng froze for a second. “Your tricks won’t work on me. These are obviously all black and white.”

“What a shame. I thought you had monochromatic vision like cats and dogs. What you said earlier was kind of scary—I thought your eyes were malfunctioning.”

“You’ve given me candy beans before.”

“Yeah, I told you the red ones tasted better, but you didn’t believe me and insisted on taking the green ones.”

“You remember our moments clearly.”

“Yes, though it feels like my memory is fading, I remember everything vividly. And I’m certain of one thing—Dimon Gege would never hurt me…”

Suddenly, a flying dart whizzed past her ear and hit the target in front of them. The dart’s magnetic tip wasn’t sharp, but it struck the bullseye with such speed that it caught Jiang Huan off guard. Her body stiffened as she slowly turned around. In Shan Di Meng’s eyes, there was a shattered star-like gleam, paired with his gaunt cheeks, giving him a cold and hard expression. But as he stepped closer, the rainbow hues of her dress softened his gaze, making it dreamy and gentle. Jiang Huan felt unnatural, instinctively grabbing onto the hem of Shan Di Meng’s shirt.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Shan Di Meng’s lips curved slightly upward in a calm smile. “Shall we move on to the next place?”

Perhaps because the previous location was too crowded, the second spot Shan Di Meng chose was serene, located in a creative park studio. The three-story buildings in the park were painted to resemble shipping containers. After wandering for a while, they finally found the way. Shan Di Meng seemed to enjoy watching Jiang Huan struggle to navigate the unfamiliar environment.

The pottery workshop was empty, and Jiang Huan muttered under her breath—not surprisingly, it was exactly the kind of place Shan Di Meng would choose: somewhere she wanted to visit but wouldn’t go to alone. She glanced at the colorful plates, bottles, jars, and sculptures on the walls, as well as the glazing master who greeted Shan Di Meng. Smiling, he asked, “What kind of piece do you want to make today? It’s all up to you.”

“My crafting skills aren’t great—I’d be happy just making a pot or a bowl… or maybe a vase to display fresh flowers in your shop. Your place always feels so devoid of living energy, like it’s inhabited by 2D souls.”

Shan Di Meng smiled warmly. “You’ve chosen something beyond beginner level—that’s impressive.”

They added a touch of pigment to the clay to create a large-capacity vase. After shaping the base, the owner left to run errands, leaving the two of them alone in the shop. With no other customers, the setting sun bathed the room in golden light. Shan Di Meng rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, half his body bathed in warm orange glow, his muscles and facial contours sculpted by the interplay of light and shadow. Jiang Huan secretly wondered: Does competition make a person sexier? The sexual tension radiating from Shan Di Meng was several times stronger than before.

Shan Di Meng skillfully stretched and flattened the clay, removing air bubbles. Under the sunset, the veins and tendons on his hands were clearly visible, and every movement of his fingers shaping the clay sounded... intimate. Trying not to get distracted, Jiang Huan tilted her head and asked, “How do you look so experienced?”

“I’ve tried it a couple of times before. When I’m stressed, working with clay helps me unwind. Want to give it a try?”

Cautiously extending her hand, Jiang Huan felt Shan Di Meng’s muddy palm grab hers and gently place it on the clay. Then he splashed some water on her hand—it was cold, and she let out a surprised yelp. Not wanting to lose, she smeared some mud on his cheek.

“You really hold grudges, don’t you?”

The slight awkwardness quickly dissipated, and the handprint on Shan Di Meng’s cheek looked almost cute, as if he was laughing heartily at her sudden retaliation. There was a damp, shadowy quality to him that usually didn’t show, but it was evident in front of Jiang Huan, like a soul that had been suppressed for too long without sunlight.

Sitting face-to-face, their differing strengths and directions made it impossible to shape the small lump of clay into a perfect sphere. Jiang Huan felt nervous whenever their hands touched—it wasn’t the kind of contact between friends. Each touch made her instinctively want to pull away, but she repeatedly reminded herself: We’ve been friends for years; isn’t it normal to hang out? Why should I be afraid?

“Our forces don’t seem to be in sync. Give me a moment.”

Shan Di Meng stood up and sat on the same chair as Jiang Huan, who scooted forward slightly. Their bodies pressed together—chest to back—the sound of fabric rubbing against each other filling the air. The atmosphere became unsettling. Shan Di Meng’s chin rested in the crook of Jiang Huan’s neck, his hand covering hers—it was almost cinematic.

Sure enough, the clay in their hands began to take on a regular round shape. Shan Di Meng guided Jiang Huan’s movements, starting from the center of the clay, adding a drop of water, and inserting two fingers into the middle. The shape of a bowl began to emerge. Collaboration required leadership, and Jiang Huan, enveloped in his embrace, felt her mind go blank.

The pressure on the back of her hand hadn’t stopped, and his steady breathing tickled her ear. Their bodies were pressed together—how could she think straight? Even Liu Xiàhuì would feel like a startled deer in this situation. Shan Di Meng asked, “Is this pressure okay?”

“Mmm...”

“If you don’t like the shape, let me know.” His voice was close to her ear, his breath humid and sultry. “It’s all up to you.”

Each sentence made sense in context, but taken individually, they felt off. The Morandi-toned scene, paired with the gradually intensifying colors of the setting sun, felt like a movie. The sound of wet clay being smoothed was delicate and silky, and Jiang Huan’s heart pounded like a drum. Her ears and face flushed red—if he kept talking, she might start bleeding from her nose.

“The clay seems too wet. We can’t add more water.”

Is this really about making pottery…? Jiang Huan shifted forward slightly and cleared her throat. “Shan Di Meng, if you don’t like me, please go easy on me!”

“What?”

“Just... these actions of yours—they make my heart race.”

“Do you dislike me?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why resist? Can’t friends do these kinds of things?”

Jiang Huan was speechless. Shan Di Meng’s voice behind her was soft but left no room for argument: “You said friends can be close too—hugging, cheek-kissing, holding hands, watching sunrises and stars—it’s all fine. Blame the internet for hyping up ambiguity. So why do you feel I’ve crossed a line now?”

He was right—all those words were hers. But the warmth and heartbeat transmitted from his chest pressed against her back had exceeded that threshold. Her hand was still cradled in his large palm, wet and slippery, matching the tangled thoughts swirling in her mind.

“You...”

“Don’t push me away.” Shan Di Meng tightened his arms, leaving Jiang Huan no room to move or escape. “This is my only privilege card. Once I’ve used it, I can’t guarantee we’ll keep dating.”

A chill spread from her calves and arms, completely different from the warmth of their skin touching. But at this moment, Jiang Huan felt pressured. If she had to describe it, it was a restrained yet ever-present sexual tension—when a villain is sincere, it’s the most lethal.

“You’re doing this on purpose. How could I dare to keep dating you?”

Jiang Huan didn’t lean forward anymore. Instead, she allowed the person behind her to press closer, greedily guiding her hands to shape the vase. The slow movements sketching the form gradually sped up as he held her fingers to complete the vase. She realized that shaping the clay required more effort than she had imagined—any hesitation would prevent the clay from achieving the desired shape. Shan Di Meng was patient, determined to act as the teacher finishing the vase, meticulously refining every last detail until it was flawless. Jiang Huan regretted mentioning leniency earlier because he clearly wasn’t as happy as before. His fingers moved mechanically, and he stopped talking.

By the time the wheel stopped spinning, it was completely dark outside. The workshop was empty, and the broken white lights illuminated the lifeless clay pieces scattered around the room. From behind her, Shan Di Meng spoke: “You should understand—I’m the kind of person who doesn’t stop until I achieve my goal.”

“Mmm...”

“So maybe, just maybe, I might hurt you in the process.”

“Is your goal... to make me happy?”

“...”

Contradictory. Neither of them spoke until the door opened, breaking the silence as the shop owner returned with drinks. Shan Di Meng conversed easily with the owner, who praised them, saying it was rare for first-timers to create a vase, let alone one so refined. They were a perfect match, full of chemistry. Shan Di Meng smiled without refuting the compliment, simply handing Jiang Huan a sandwich he had unwrapped. Jiang Huan felt a headache coming on, finding the owner oddly familiar, as if she had seen him on Renwu Road before. She tried to dispel the foggy memories, and it clicked—the owner was familiar. He had taken a photo of her with his camera, and if she remembered correctly, Shan Di Meng had been standing beside her, arms outstretched in an embrace.

“Have we met before?”

The owner furrowed his brow slightly. “I don’t think so. If you’re Shan Di Meng’s girlfriend, today counts as our first meeting.”

Every pottery piece in the workshop seemed to echo through time and space. Jiang Huan subtly denied the relationship with her expression, and Shan Di Meng stiffened for a second before quickly resuming his smile. Together, they began coloring the vase, but Jiang Huan found it hard to focus, stealing glances at Shan Di Meng. People fear suspicion when they sense hidden motives; yet, she had always trusted Shan Di Meng implicitly. What ulterior motive could someone who was completely open with her possibly have?

But now, her heart was muddy, turning endlessly on the spinning wheel.