The Engineer Falls for His Sweet-Scented Maid - Chapter 31: Memories Blurred by Drink

Wanshan Shen’s steady footsteps sounded at the far end of the corridor.

“How did he get this drunk? Did something happen at the mill?” His voice drew closer.

Nianhe Su’s scalp prickled with fear.

If she ran out now, she would walk straight into him and his wife.

She could only shrink back beneath the bed and inch toward the wall at its farthest edge.

Dust in the corner tickled her nose. She pinched her thigh hard, forcing back a sneeze until tears sprang to her eyes.

Footsteps entered the room. Two people this time.

Wanshan, in slippers, came to the bedside and surveyed his unconscious son.

“All right. Go fetch some hot water and wipe his face. I’ll get his shoes off and lift him onto the bed.”

Huizhen Liu murmured assent and went out again.

Wanshan bent, gripped the heel of one leather shoe, and tugged.

It landed on the floor with a dull thud, right beside Nianhe’s hand.

She stared at the shoe, scarcely daring to breathe.

Wanshan lifted both of his son’s legs onto the bed and pulled a light blanket over Huai’s stomach.

When he straightened, he too noticed the strange smell.

After years in official circles, Wanshan was hardly sensitive to scents. The room simply struck him as stuffy. He went to the window and slid one pane halfway open with a clatter.

The night breeze dispersed much of the thick, milky sweetness and the smell of liquor.

Nianhe lay in the dark corner, her blouse open and the floor cold against her skin.

She remembered Huai’s burning lips against her on the bed, the overwhelming male heat of him mingled with alcohol. It had almost swallowed her whole.

If Huizhen had not suddenly knocked, she had no idea how far things would have gone.

Water sloshed in the corridor.

Huizhen came in with half a basin of hot water, set the enamel basin on the bedside table, and wrung out a towel to wipe Huai’s face.

“He’s usually so sensible. Where did he go to pour all this booze down his throat?” she grumbled as she worked. “And what is that smell? It’s so strange.”

“Young people have plenty of social obligations. What does it matter if he overdoes it once? I’ve opened the window. Let it air out.” Wanshan was unconcerned.

The couple fussed over the bed for a while.

Huai never woke. He only mumbled something indistinct when the hot towel touched his face.

Huizhen could not make it out and dismissed it as drunken babble. She finished wiping his face and hands, then picked up the basin.

“Come on. Let him sleep. Make him some hangover soup in the morning.” Wanshan led the way out, hands clasped behind his back.

Huizhen closed the window until only a crack remained, then followed with the basin and pulled the door shut behind her.

The latch clicked. Silence returned.

Only the soft rustle of the breeze through the window and the man’s even breathing broke the stillness.

Nianhe stayed beneath the bed for another full five minutes. Once she was sure there was no movement outside, she crawled out on trembling limbs.

She sat on the wooden floor and gulped air.

Her blouse was in disarray. Two buttons were missing.

Frantically, she pulled it together and clutched the edges in both hands. Her legs nearly gave way as she stood.

She glanced at Huai, still sleeping without a care.

In the moonlight, his face looked stern and peaceful. None of that dangerous loss of control remained.

Biting her lower lip, Nianhe crept to the door, turned the handle, and slipped out.

The corridor was silent.

She kept close to the wall, made her way down the stairs one careful step at a time, and ducked back into her room on the ground floor.

The moment she shut the door, she sagged against it and slid slowly to the floor.

That had been terrifying.

Another moment, and her whole life could have been ruined.

She sat against the door for a long time. Only when her heart finally stopped racing did she drag herself onto the bed, her limbs still weak.

She pulled the thin quilt over her head and tossed on the hard wooden bed.

Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw that dim room upstairs.

His scorching body heat had reached her through their clothes. His breath, heavy with liquor, had washed over her face.

He had pinned her down and kissed her hard, heedless of everything, until she could barely catch her breath.

It was the same in her dreams. Huai was frighteningly strong, his arms like iron clamps around her waist, his kisses leaving her lips numb.

She could not push him away. A fire seemed to burn inside her, turning her soft and hot, robbing even her fingertips of strength.

When she startled awake, dawn had not yet broken. Only a few early birds called outside.

Nianhe touched her face. It felt hot.

She quickly sat up and patted her cheeks, forcing those jumbled images out of her mind.

She had to stop thinking about it. Otherwise, she really would not be able to stay in this job.

Ping’an Shen would wake at first light and want his milk. She had to hurry.

Quietly, she opened her door and slipped into the downstairs kitchen.

To produce enough milk for that little tyrant, she needed a full stomach.

She found two leftover mixed-grain steamed buns in the cupboard and wolfed them down with chunks of pickled vegetable.

She ate so fast that a mouthful caught in her throat. Eyes rolling, she hastily scooped more than half a dipper of cold water from the water jar and gulped it down.

With her stomach filled, her body responded quickly.

Within minutes, her breasts began to tighten and swell.

The heavy ache, aggravated by the rub of her clothes, made her breathe harder. That troublesome, cloying milk scent escaped her collar, overpowering even the smell of cooking grease in the kitchen.

Nianhe hurried back to her room and expressed the milk into a feeding bottle.

She had just finished when Ping’an began fussing in the nursery next door.

She went over and picked him up.

His little nose twitched twice. Catching the familiar sweetness, he quieted at once and opened his mouth in search of food.

Nianhe put the bottle to his lips. He drank with eager little smacks.

By the time he finished, it was fully light.

Auntie Wang came in yawning and took him from her. “Nianhe, you’re the only one who can handle this little tyrant. Off you go. I’ll watch him.”

Nianhe gave an awkward laugh, fastened her collar to the very top, and returned to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the family.

The congee had just developed a glossy film when Huizhen came downstairs in her mid-heeled shoes.

Rubbing her temples and looking displeased, she stopped at the kitchen door. “Nianhe, shred some ginger and make a good strong bowl of hangover soup for Huai. Take it upstairs. He drank too much last night, and he has work at the mill today. We can’t have him late.”

She paused, then complained again. “I don’t know where he went drinking. His room had such a strange smell. Even leaving the window open for ages didn’t clear it.”

Nianhe’s hand jerked. The knife nearly caught her finger.

She lowered her head and answered, her palms slick with guilty sweat.

Back in the village, her father, Dahe Su, used to get drunk, hit people, and smash things. The next morning he would remember nothing. He would even ask who had split his head open.

Engineer Shen had been so drunk last night that he could barely walk. Surely he would not remember either?

She reassured herself over and over.

As long as she denied it, no one would know what had happened on that bed.

The ginger soup was ready. She poured it, steaming, into a white porcelain bowl.

Carrying it on a tray, Nianhe climbed the wooden stairs.

Each faint creak tightened the knot in her chest.

Outside Huai’s room, she took several deep breaths before raising her hand to knock.