SES Chapter 135 Part 1

Due to external project commitment, the chapters will be released every 2 days till the end of November 25. Thank you.

 

Chapter 135

Mù Dài finished peeling the apple, cut it into small pieces, placed them neatly in a glass bowl, and covered it. Then she walked over to the electric kettle to pour some hot water into a glass. Holding the rim carefully with two fingers, she started to bring it over.

Maybe the glass heated up too fast—after just a few steps, she had to set it down again, shaking her hand and blowing gently on her fingers.

Luó Rèn let out a quiet sigh.

This time, he’d actually come to talk to her.

Maybe it was the influence of what he’d gone through in the Philippines, but he had to admit—he’d developed a kind of emotional fastidiousness. When it came to feelings—whether love, family, brotherhood, or friendship—he craved simplicity.

He had grown to despise the deceit and treachery of those years abroad—the endless betrayals, bloodshed, and uncertainty. After coming back to China, all he wanted was a life stripped of complications.

He wanted simple family bonds, just the warmth of everyday life—so even though he technically had relatives, he still treated Pìn Tíng and Uncle Zhèng as true family.

He wanted friendship that was honest and straightforward—so among his circle, he actually liked Yán Hóngshā the most. She wasn’t as tactful or smooth as Yī Wàn Sān or Cáo Yánhuá, but she was direct and loyal, always saying what she meant.

And, of course, he wanted love that was wholehearted and true.

When he first met Mù Dài, it was her simplicity that drew him in. He’d thought then: A girl who can be scared to tears… how rare is that?

But over time, Mù Dài had become something far more complex than he’d imagined.

When he accidentally saw that video on Hé Ruìhuá’s computer, his feelings were tangled and hard to name. He couldn’t deny—there was anger mixed in.

If this love isn’t real, why keep pretending? He thought. I don’t need charity disguised as affection.

But now, he didn’t want to say anything.

Or maybe… he couldn’t bring himself to.

Suddenly, he realized that all those things he used to think of as “true devotion”—the grand, burning declarations—meant less than this quiet, ordinary night. He’d had a few drinks and was drifting off, while she sat beside him, peeling an apple in silence and making a pot of light tea.

He had secrets too. Just a few days ago, he’d asked Xiàng Sīlán to hide something from Mù Dài.

So why assume her secrecy was deceit? Why assume it was betrayal?

Luó Rèn made a low sound in his throat, then sat up, rubbing his forehead.

Mù Dài immediately came over. “Are you dizzy? You really did drink too much, didn’t you? Want some apples?”

He nodded. Maybe it was better to just pretend he was drunk.

She handed him the bowl and two toothpicks. “Yī Wàn Sān said you should drink slower next time. You tilted your head back, and that whole B-52 Bomber went straight down. He said he saw actual flames in your mouth.”

That cocktail hadn’t been strong enough to make him drunk, but it had definitely left his throat dry.

Mù Dài asked, “Want some water? It’s still hot.”

“I’ll wait till it cools.”

He ate a few pieces of apple, then set the bowl down and took her hand. “Come here. Let me look at you.”

She was still thin, her skin pale and soft, her eyes calm but flickering shyly when they met his.

He reached out and pulled her into his arms.

He could feel her tense, just slightly—then she relaxed, smiling faintly as she looped her arms around his neck.

Luó Rèn kissed her forehead and asked, “Did I ever tell you about Eurice and his Malay girlfriend?”

Mù Dài shook her head, curious. “No. What about her?”

Eurice was a young Black guy who used to brag he was from Hawaii, and said he could dance in a grass skirt.

But once, Luó Rèn happened to see his passport—it turned out the guy had no connection to America at all.

He was short, with a bright smile full of white teeth. He liked to whistle at girls on the street and claimed he always used two condoms when with a woman. He said it was family tradition—any child of his must be raised by him, never abandoned. He didn’t want to leave the Philippines someday with a trail of kids behind him.

Then, suddenly, he stopped chasing women altogether—because he’d fallen in love.

With a Malay bar dancer.

Luó Rèn could never understand why.

The woman wasn’t beautiful. She had dark, sallow skin, was short and plump, with rolls around her waist. She loved wearing shiny gold dresses fringed with tassels, and when she danced, the tassels would sway enough to show her underwear.

She also loved money. Every time, she’d wrap her arms around Eurice’s neck, pout her red lips, and tap her chubby finger against them: “Here, here—still missing a gold ring.”

How could he have fallen for her?

Maybe that’s just love—it stops making sense the moment you try to explain it.

Eurice sank into lovesick misery. At night, he’d toss and turn, sometimes yanking away Luó Rèn’s pillow and waking him up.

“Luó, what do I do? My father says our bloodline must stay pure. He’d never let me marry a Malay woman.”

Luó Rèn had said, “Your father… has a point.”

…

But the whole matter didn’t last long. Signs soon showed the woman had other lovers—and she’d taken a lot of Eurice’s money.

Heartbroken, Eurice went to confront her.

Luó Rèn went along—not because they feared a fight, but because they were afraid Eurice, blinded by love, might give her even more money.

It was daytime, and the bar was nearly empty. Eurice argued with the woman near the back while Luó Rèn stood at the door, arms folded, watching.

Then suddenly, Eurice hugged her.

Looking back, Luó Rèn realized that it was one-sided—because right after, the woman pulled out a fruit knife and stabbed him in the chest before running off in a panic.