The Engineer Falls for His Sweet-Scented Maid - Chapter 37: Were You in My Room?

In the quiet courtyard, the cough sounded startlingly loud.

Huai came to himself and turned.

Huizhen stood by the little doorway, her expression difficult to describe. Shock and worry mingled with the anguish of a mother who had discovered her son was a pervert.

“Mom. Why aren’t you asleep?” Huai stood, his voice even.

She came over, deliberately avoiding the laundry on the wire, and lowered her voice. “Huai, you’ve finished commissioning the equipment at the mill these past few days, haven’t you?”

“Mm.”

Huizhen sighed and spoke earnestly. “However busy work gets, you have to make time to find a wife. I’ve chosen two young women with good prospects. One works at the Municipal Party Committee Publicity Department. The other is a political commissar’s niece. Take some time tomorrow morning and meet them at the state-run café.”

His brows lowered. He refused without a thought. “I’m not going. I still have drawings to check at the mill.”

Normally, Huizhen might have let him have his way.

Not today.

She stepped closer in agitation. Her voice fell further, but its force increased. “You’re going whether you like it or not! Look at the state of you. Twenty-six and still no girlfriend. Stay single much longer and you’ll develop problems in your head!”

Huai was bewildered. “What psychological problems do I have?”

Seeing him deny it, she darted a glance at the little faded pieces of fabric on the wire, then swiftly looked back. Her expression plainly said, I saw everything. Don’t pretend.

“Who sits here in the middle of the night looking at these filthy things if there’s nothing wrong with him?” she demanded through gritted teeth, furious at his failure to live up to her expectations. “Hurry up and find a wife. This strange affliction will cure itself. I won’t tell anyone. You are going tomorrow!”

Huai followed her glance over his shoulder.

The undergarments swayed in the breeze.

His head roared. Blood rushed upward.

Only now did he realize what he had been doing—and fully understand his mother’s expression.

She thought that going without a wife had turned him into a pervert who sat here ogling the maid’s underwear.

Huai felt thoroughly ill.

His face was livid. He swallowed, wanting to explain.

But how?

Tell her he was thinking about the dream he had had of Nianhe after getting drunk last night?

Then she would think he was sitting here savoring it.

That would be worse than being a pervert.

“I’m getting some air,” he forced out.

Huizhen gave him an I understand look and nodded perfunctorily. “Fine. Getting some air. Tomorrow morning at ten. Make yourself presentable and go meet them. I’m doing this for your own good.”

She turned and hurried away, afraid that lingering another second would only embarrass him further.

Huai stood listening to the little door close and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Never in his life had he been so unjustly judged.

His mother’s parting look had made it plain: she thought years of bachelorhood had warped him into a pervert.

And it all came back to those fragmented memories of last night.

Huai turned. Instead of going upstairs, he walked straight along the ground-floor corridor and stopped outside Nianhe’s room.

A single dim bulb cast yellow light over the wooden door.

He raised his right hand, curling his well-defined fingers. His knuckles stopped less than two centimeters from the wood.

Knock, or not?

His breathing grew heavier.

If everything last night had truly been a drunken hallucination, nothing more than an absurd dream, would knocking on her door in the middle of the night and asking such a question frighten the timid girl into running away?

At the mill, he never lacked words when dressing someone down. Now, before this thin wooden door, his thoughts were hopelessly tangled.

His hand hovered for a long time. At last, he lowered it.

Forget it.

He had just turned to go upstairs when the door creaked behind him.

Nianhe had spent ages tossing and turning on the hard bed.

The weather was hot, and she had drunk plenty of water.

Now, in the middle of the night, her bladder was painfully full.

She hastily pulled on an old, faded cotton blouse. Without even fastening all the buttons, she opened the door to hurry to the toilet at the end of the corridor.

She rushed out with her head down, never expecting anyone to be there.

She collided squarely with a warm, solid wall of flesh.

“Oof.”

Her forehead struck Huai’s chin hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.

But her breasts hurt more.

Unprepared, she had hit his firm chest full on, her softness compressed by the impact.

The ache and the friction of the fabric drew a small, involuntary cry from her throat.

Huai stumbled half a step back, his leather shoes thudding on the floor.

Instinctively, he reached out and gathered the woman who had crashed into him into his arms.

Soft. So soft.

Her body seemed boneless against his. Her full breasts pressed directly against the muscles beneath his athletic undershirt.

Even through their clothes, he could feel that startling yielding warmth.

At the same instant, an overwhelming sweetness filled his nose.

The milk scent was far stronger than usual, carrying the warmth of the bed she had just left. Every trace of it filled his breath.

His muscles tensed all at once.

“I’m s-sorry!” Nianhe planted her hands against his chest in a panic and tried desperately to retreat.

But his large hand still held her waist.

His palm rested against her lower back through the old blouse, its heat reaching her skin through the thin cotton.

“What’s the hurry at this hour?” His voice was rough, his throat working in the dim light.

Nianhe looked up. Recognizing Huai, she went white.

She remembered how he had pinned her to the bed upstairs the night before, his strength frightening.

“I-I need the toilet…” She stammered, unsure what to do with her hands or feet. Her waist trembled beneath his grip.

Huai looked down at her.

The old blouse was too loose. Their collision and her struggle had pulled its neckline crooked.

Through the opening, he could see a small patch of fine, fair skin and the remarkable curves rising and falling with her hurried breaths.

The milk scent grew richer, tugging at his nerves.

Last night’s blurred memories overlapped with the present.

Warm lips. Silky skin. Her almost tearful whimpers.

He did not release her. Instead, he drew her a little closer.

They were so near that their breaths mingled.

“Nianhe Su.” His voice was low.

She went rigid, unable to meet his eyes. “Engineer Shen, please let go. I need the toilet.”

“Let me ask you something.” His eyes rested on her reddening ears. “Were you in my room last night?”

Her heart skipped a beat.

So he had remembered after all.

Or he had begun to suspect.

If she admitted it, she was finished.

Huizhen and Liping would throw her out of the compound. Huai would be angry too. He would not help her.

“No.” She bit her lower lip hard. Her voice was small, but the word was clear. “I was in my own room asleep the whole time.”

“No?” His grip on her waist tightened. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” She lifted her head and looked stubbornly at him through a film of tears.

Something in those wet eyes sent a sudden heat of anger through him.

The scent was exactly the same. So was the feel of her.

Yet she refused to admit it.

He stepped forward.

Forced back, Nianhe hit the doorframe of her room.

There was nowhere left to go.