Chapter Sixteen: Watching the Meteor

I was truly terrified, afraid that he might pounce on me and do something unspeakable. He rubbed his forehead, muttered something under his breath, and looked at me. "I like that temper of yours."

I trembled. "You were the one who harassed me first, I... I..."

Just then, Zhu Bang’s voice sounded from outside: "Young master, young master..."

A glimmer of hope appeared. I scrambled and crawled toward the bow of the boat and, sure enough, saw Zhu Bang outside.

Tears streaming down my face, I cried out for help and tried to leap out.

He showed not the slightest surprise, didn’t even look at me, simply asked, "Young master, I’ve brought you the things you requested. Is there anything else you need?"

The voice of that perverse man echoed from within, "You may go now."

Zhu Bang respectfully placed several bags on the wooden boards, pushed off in his boat, and prepared to leave. Knowing this was my only chance, I hurriedly jumped onto the board, making a dash for his boat.

But in the end, I miscalculated. Someone grabbed my shoulder, lifted me lightly, and I watched helplessly as my last hope slipped away.

The deranged man bent down to pick up the bags, then carried me back onto the boat. He tossed me beside the brazier and pointed at me as I tried to get up. "If you don’t want to die, behave yourself."

Seeing him take clothes from the bag, I froze at once. After all that commotion, I was sweating and no longer cold, but I still wanted to escape.

He handed me the clothes. When I didn’t move, he asked, "Need my help?"

Unwillingly, I took them from him. He rummaged through the other bag and pulled out bandages and such—serves you right, you pervert.

He adjusted his clothes, and seeing me still watching, tossed the cotton swabs and supplies my way.

I threw them back. "Don’t you have hands? Do it yourself."

He caught them, his tone unchanged, and in one swift motion, snatched back the clothes he had just given me, threatening to toss them overboard.

At a moment like this, all that talk about dignity and pride seemed too pretentious. I reached over and snatched the clothes back.

He handed me the cotton swabs again. This time, I took them, knelt before him, and helped clean his wound.

The wound wasn’t large, but not exactly small either. I wondered if there might be shards of broken porcelain inside. If he ended up disfigured, would he sue me and make me lose everything?

Thinking of this, I calmly reminded him, "You should go to the hospital and have it checked."

He snorted, "Weren’t you hoping I’d just die?"

I sneered, "If I could leave, I wouldn’t care whether you lived or died."

Once I’d finished tending to his wound, he took his coffee and went to sit at the bow. I hurried to change clothes, sneezing repeatedly.

After tidying myself, I poured a cup of coffee, walked to the bow, and sat beside him.

"Such a beautiful view—what a waste," I remarked.

Hearing this, he edged away. "What, you're not afraid I’ll devour you?"

To be honest, the man before me now seemed entirely different from the one who’d bullied me earlier. At this moment, he looked harmless, still with that face rivaling Jia Baoyu’s, his faint smile almost bewitching.

I sipped my coffee. "Whoever’s afraid is a pig."

Suddenly, a whooshing sound swept past my ear. I looked up, then screamed, "Look, a shooting star!"

Another whoosh, followed by one, two, three streaks...

He remained unmoved. I shook his shoulder, shouting excitedly, "Shooting stars! Aren’t they beautiful?"

In my excitement, I pushed him down. As he cried out in surprise, I quickly knotted the corners of our clothes together and closed my eyes to make a wish.

Silently, I recited, "I have three humble wishes, may God grant them: first, for my grandfather’s good health; second, that I find a good job after graduation; third, to forget that scoundrel as soon as possible..."

After the college entrance exam, my grandfather had taken me to Beijing, where we’d prayed at the Yonghe Temple. Back then, all my wishes had been about Du Fanchuan.

Now, none of them concerned him at all.

A glass lantern hung at the bow, casting half light, half shadow across the perverse man’s face, highlighting his striking features. I couldn’t help but wonder—he must be of mixed blood, for surely no ordinary Asian man would have such impossibly long legs.