Yearning For Warmth, Day and Night - Chapter 8
Chapter 8: Illness
Du Yueming was notorious in social circles for being a flirt. Her ex-girlfriends were countless, ranging from movie stars to household maids. She changed partners almost every three months—this was well known to everyone.
Her family had tried to discipline her for two years, but Du Yueming had threatened suicide in response. She even declared openly that she simply liked women and that if she wasn’t allowed to date girls, she’d rather die. The Du family, with most of their business and life overseas and quite liberal in their views, eventually accepted this truth and let her be.
Du Yueming wasn’t the only child in the family. She had two older brothers—one in business and the other in politics—both quite successful. So after letting go of any restraints, her parents moved abroad for peace of mind. With no one controlling her, and her brothers doting on her, she started changing girlfriends like changing clothes—and no one dared criticize her face-to-face.
Though behind her back:
“Isn’t she that social butterfly?”
“Tsk, why is she standing next to the Third Miss?”
“Haven’t you heard? She used to have a crush on the Third Miss and tried every way to get into her bed.”
“So that’s what it was. Shameless!”
Even in hushed whispers, Wei Hui had long heard of Du Yueming’s reputation. Even if she hadn’t heard the full details, she remembered being harassed back when they were in school. Thinking of this, she frowned and called out, “Shiyi.”
Shiyi, who had been stunned speechless by something Du Yueming said, quickly came to her senses and was about to walk to Wei Hui’s side when someone grabbed her arm.
“Can I get your contact info?” Du Yueming asked, her face smiling and eyes sincere. Her narrow eyes carried a lazy, casual air.
Shiyi shook her head. “Sorry, I… I don’t have one.”
Du Yueming seemed disappointed and glanced at Wei Hui. What a pity—she rarely met someone who fit her taste so well, and it turned out to be Wei Hui’s person. What kind of fate was this? She murmured with a smile to Wei Hui, “So stingy.”
Wei Hui remained expressionless as she heard her mumble. Her lips moved slightly. “Shiyi, come here.”
Shiyi walked to her side. Shen Hao asked, “Won’t the Third Miss stay a little longer?”
Wei Hui tilted her head slightly. “No. Thank you for the hospitality, Mr. Shen.”
Shen Hao’s eyes showed faint regret. They had just gone to a lounge earlier and spoken briefly about a stalled construction project. Wei Hui had agreed to let the Shen family take a cut of the profits, but insisted that the final authority had to lie with Wei Tian. Her stance was firm and left no room for negotiation. This was their first head-on clash, and Shen Hao finally understood why the old patriarch had agreed to call off the engagement.
With her presence alone, few could truly stand their ground.
And yet, that only made Shen Hao want to conquer her more. A dark glint rose in his eyes as he said in a low voice, “Third Miss, about the follow-up—”
“Another time,” she cut him off with just two words, nodded slightly, and said, “Mr. Shen, goodbye.”
With that, she walked out of the hall without looking back, her high heels clicking on the floor like a vivid streak in motion. All eyes were drawn to her—some envious, some infatuated. Shiyi held her breath and followed quickly behind her out of the hotel.
Once in the car, Wei Hui leaned back and took a deep breath, her complexion slightly pale. Shiyi, seeing this unusual expression for the first time on Wei Hui’s face, asked worriedly, “Third Miss, are you feeling unwell?”
Wei Hui’s body was taut beneath her gown. She didn’t answer, only instructing the driver, “Drive.”
The car pulled away from the hotel, the cabin dimly lit, only illuminated by occasional flashes of streetlights. Shiyi, having had a few drinks, was tipsy and tried pinching her thigh to keep herself awake. There was a faint scent in the air—something light and floral, like the faint aroma of flowers in a winter garden. It wasn’t strong, but when the breeze stirred, it became a little intoxicating.
Afraid of brushing against Wei Hui, Shiyi consciously moved to the side. Just as she shifted, a hand grabbed her wrist. She gasped, “Third—”
“Shut up,” came a soft voice beside her ear, yet it rang like thunder in Shiyi’s mind. She immediately silenced herself, her entire body going stiff.
In the darkness, her wrist was held in a painfully tight grip, almost as if it would break. Despite the pain, she gritted her teeth and didn’t make a sound. Her beautiful eyes welled with tears, and she bit down on her already wounded lip, reopening the scabbed cut—but it wasn’t searing pain, just the faint taste of bl00d.
She swallowed hard, afraid to move. Then she heard Wei Hui’s voice again, as soft as before: “Come closer.”
Shiyi clenched her fists and shifted her body toward her. Just as she moved, a weight settled on her shoulder—it was Wei Hui’s head.
She could also feel the heat—the searing heat emanating through the thin fabric of Wei Hui’s dress. Shiyi cried out, “Third Miss—”
“I know,” Wei Hui replied softly. Her breath landed gently against Shiyi’s earlobe, tickling and warm. Shiyi wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol causing hallucinations, but why did it feel like Wei Hui was not only holding her hand but leaning against her?
Was she drunk?
Shiyi turned slightly to look at her. The red light caught them, and the dim glow fell on Wei Hui’s face. Her forehead was slick with sweat, and her complexion even paler than before. Her long lashes trembled lightly. At that moment, Wei Hui no longer seemed so cold and untouchable—instead, she looked… fragile.
Startled by her own thoughts, Shiyi shook her head to push away the image.
But her heart wouldn’t calm down, thudding anxiously.
Half an hour later, the car pulled into the Wei family estate. The driver, without turning his head, announced, “We’ve arrived, Third Miss.”
A calm yet authoritative voice replied, “Get out first.”
From the rearview mirror, the driver noticed the two figures pressed closely together. With a knowing glance, he got out and gestured to the approaching butler, silently signaling that something was going on inside the car. The butler stood by the car door, shielding the window.
Shiyi shifted uncomfortably and whispered, “Third Miss?”
Her wrist was still tightly gripped. Her shoulder, now damp with sweat, radiated warmth. Wei Hui’s free hand was trembling slightly. She murmured, “Open my bag.”
Shiyi didn’t respond right away. When she did, she asked urgently, “What’s wrong? Should I call Dr. Su?”
“No, just the bag.”
Her voice was barely audible, and it sent a jolt through Shiyi’s heart. She quickly reached for Wei Hui’s bag, but with the butler and driver standing outside, the car was nearly pitch dark—she couldn’t see anything. Gritting her teeth, she said, “I’m sorry, Third Miss, I’ll be a bit intrusive.”
Then she climbed over, which made Wei Hui’s head fall and brush against her cheek. The soft breaths and the faint scent made Shiyi’s heart pound. She grabbed the bag and helped Wei Hui sit upright again.
“The red bottle,” Wei Hui gasped. “Two pills.”
Shiyi found several bottles in the bag, unsure which one was red. Luckily, the phone in the bag lit up, and she spotted the correct bottle. She poured out two pills and said, “Here you go, Third Miss.”
Wei Hui, taut with tension, grabbed Shiyi’s hand and swallowed the pills with her head tilted back. Her tongue grazed Shiyi’s palm, making Shiyi quickly clench her fist.
A few minutes later, Wei Hui’s breathing began to steady.
Shiyi looked at her, worry in her eyes, bright and clear in the darkness. Wei Hui noticed the look and said coolly, “Get out.”
“Okay.” Shiyi opened the door and stepped out, just as she heard Wei Hui say, “Watch your mouth.”
The voice was cold and stern. Shiyi turned to look at her—Wei Hui had straightened up, her profile sharp under the flickering lights. That weak woman from earlier felt like a hallucination.
Blushing furiously, Shiyi bit her lip. “I understand.”
They exited the car one after the other. Shiyi’s dress was damp on the shoulder and slightly wrinkled. Her cheeks were flushed, and thanks to the alcohol, her eyes looked glazed. Her lips, red and swollen from biting, made her look like she had just been through something intimate. The servants exchanged glances, their eyes filled with wordless understanding. Shiyi felt their stares piercing into her, her spine trembling.
Wei Hui swept her gaze over the crowd and said flatly, “Dismissed.”
Zhang Ma waved at the rest to retreat and asked, “Third Miss, did you eat at the banquet? Would you like dinner prepared?”
Wei Hui rarely attended such events unless necessary, and usually came home to eat again. But today, she shook her head. “No.”
Then she looked at Shiyi, who happened to look back. Their eyes met. Wei Hui said, “Make her dinner.”
Zhang Ma glanced at Shiyi, taking in her appearance, her expression turning grim. “Yes, ma’am.”
Without another word or glance, Wei Hui went upstairs. Zhang Ma stood beside Shiyi and asked, “Miss, what would you like to eat?”
Shiyi, still tipsy and not particularly hungry, politely declined. “Thank you, Zhang Ma, but I’m okay.”
“You must.” Zhang Ma was firm. “If the Third Miss said to prepare food, then there must be food.”
Shiyi, already hunched over, clasped her hands nervously and said softly, “Then… just noodles, please.”
“Xiao Cui,” Zhang Ma called toward the kitchen, “make the young lady a bowl of noodles.”
“Coming,” came the reply.
Shiyi sat at the dining table, but Zhang Ma kept glancing at her, each look like a needle prick. Shiyi couldn’t relax. Voices floated from the nearby kitchen:
“Didn’t she always act pure? Said she’d rather get beaten than… you know.”
“Fake modesty. With someone like the Third Miss? She’s probably thrilled.”
“You didn’t see how she looked coming out of that car—I couldn’t even speak.”
“Shameless.”
Shiyi sat stiffly, her hands clenched so tightly in her lap they hurt. She abruptly stood. Zhang Ma looked up in surprise. “Miss?”
“I… I’m really not hungry. I won’t eat.”
She turned and bolted up the stairs. Behind her, Zhang Ma watched her retreating figure, expression growing colder.