Chapter Sixty-Six: Midnight

No. 39 Weijin Garden—this was the address Yan Xu had managed to extract from the tipsy lips of Ong Meiling. Hearing Ong Meiling mention him, the taxi driver realized she truly knew Yan Xu and quickly scurried away. Yan Xu supported Ong Meiling as they walked; despite her petite stature, her drunkenness made her feel especially heavy.

Fortunately, Weijin Garden was not far—just next door to the Wanbao Pavilion and opposite Hong Kong Radio. Soon enough, Yan Xu spotted the three large characters of Weijin Garden atop the surrounding wall. “Hey, where’s your home? Hey, wake up,” Yan Xu urged, shaking Ong Meiling who leaned on him, but she was so muddled she seemed half asleep, mumbling something indistinct.

Seeing Ong Meiling was truly out of it, Yan Xu had no choice but to help her inside. Luckily, Weijin Garden was not yet like the future residential complexes with rows of apartment blocks. It was a standalone white building. Entering the lobby on the first floor, Yan Xu saw an elderly security guard on duty at the door.

“Miss Ong, drunk again, is she?” The attendant came over as Yan Xu supported Ong Meiling inside. He seemed unsurprised, almost used to the sight.

“Uncle Kwong, right? I’m Ah Ling’s friend. I know she lives here but not which room,” Yan Xu said, glancing at the name badge on the guard’s chest and learning his surname.

“Miss Ong is in 1B on the first floor—just over there,” Old Kwong pointed to one side of the lobby.

Yan Xu, holding Ong Meiling with one hand, reached into her shoulder bag with the other, found a ring of keys, and—after several tries—managed to open the door and half-carried her inside.

Her apartment was not large. Though she was now a popular star at TVB, she’d only been in the business a few years. Given the station’s notorious stinginess and oppressive contracts, her income was not high. This apartment had been transferred to her by her godfather last June as a second-hand property, costing just over half a million—a bargain at the time. Now, with prices soaring, it would fetch at least seven or eight hundred thousand.

The room was decorated primarily in light green, giving a particularly fresh feeling under the lights. Ong Meiling’s room was unmistakable: her portraits hung on the walls and the table displayed photos of her with Tong Zhenye. Despite the public drama about their relationship—Tong Zhenye’s frequent appearances with Wu Yunru in the news, gossip linking Ong Meiling with Miao Qiaowei and Liang Chaowei, and her recent sultry photo shoots stirring up the press—the group photos revealed she still cared deeply for Tong Zhenye.

It was Yan Xu’s first time in a girl’s room so chaotic. Perhaps it had been closed up too long, for the air was heavy and stale. The wardrobe stood wide open, clothes neither hung nor folded but rolled into a tangled heap. Garments lay scattered across the floor and bed, their history—worn or not—uncertain. Bedding was bunched to one side, the sheets rumpled, as if someone had just gotten up. More strikingly, Yan Xu noticed a white lace panty draped over a plush toy atop the writing desk, almost like a hat.

This was a far cry from Zhou Huimin’s fragrant tidiness, revealing how disordered Ong Meiling’s recent life must be.

Yan Xu tossed Ong Meiling onto the bed. She sprawled inelegantly, limbs splayed, face flushed deeper under the lamp’s glow, her breathing rough, mouth slightly open. Yan Xu shook his head at the sight. Whenever he saw her, she was drunk; the papers outside wrote endlessly of her and Tong Zhenye’s love affair, though her two suicide attempts had never leaked. Clearly, his arrival had stirred the butterfly’s wings just a bit.

Ong Meiling was like a puppet, too drunk to resist. Yan Xu helped her remove her jacket and shoes, pulled the bedding over her, poured a glass of water in the kitchen, and set it by the bedside.

Given how turbulent things were, Yan Xu worried something might happen to her. So, after making her comfortable, he didn’t leave. He fetched a thin blanket, settled on the couch in the living room, switched on the television, and watched a Cantonese feature film. Without ceremony, he reached for the pile of snacks beside the table, clearly gifts from her fans—she was very popular now. Yan Xu even noticed one room filled with unopened gift boxes and all kinds of plush dolls.

He’d spent the day scouting locations for a new film, so as he watched the tired old plot of the Cantonese movie, he soon lay back and drifted into sleep on the sofa.

Bang—a door swung open, followed by a loud crash as the frame hit the wall.

The noise jolted Yan Xu from his doze. He sat upright, eyes searching for the source. It was Ong Meiling’s bedroom door. Yan Xu saw her emerge, still swaying, and in that instant his blood surged—he couldn’t look away.

Ong Meiling, not fully awake, began to undress, shrugging off her top and casual trousers, tossing them aside, leaving most of her body exposed to Yan Xu’s gaze. She wore a gray-blue deep V lace bra, its design novel: a sheer layer of lace over traditional fabric, embroidered with little flowers, lending a sense of depth. Her breasts were perfectly framed, the cleavage deep and enticing, especially where the fabric joined below, adorned with a three-dimensional flower from which delicate ribbons trailed over her flat abdomen—irresistibly alluring.

Though Ong Meiling was only one meter fifty-eight, her petite frame was well-proportioned. The matching lingerie barely concealed her private parts, and her legs, though not long, were smooth and shapely, fitting her figure exquisitely.

Contrary to Yan Xu’s wild imaginings, Ong Meiling didn’t continue undressing, but quickly slipped into the bathroom. Still, her enchanting silhouette was burned into his mind, and even as the sound of the shower echoed, Yan Xu remained transfixed by the memory.

P.S.: There’s just one more chapter about Ong; after this, her appearances will be sporadic. Another movie clue is hidden in this chapter—who can spot it? Guessing the film would be impressive.