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07 | Silence Before Storm - Part 2
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2020-10-24 20:32:53The faint glow of the moonlight perfectly outlined the broad shoulders of a man in a suit, who was standing right in front of Meiying. The suit alone had brought out his charisma, which shaking the core of her soul. Meiying almost bent her knees, the instant ramification at the sight but luckily, she still had her sanity intact and held tight onto the door handle to hold herself.
How could someone look so good in a suit?
It should be illegal for him to walk around in that kind of appearance.
He should be cuffed and jailed for making her knees weak.
For a moment, her eyes were locked with his sharp ones. It was the deepest shade of the richest earth, beautiful and mysterious like the night. So deep and calm, but wild and dangerous at the same time.
As if she was staring right into the eyes of the storm.
What was unusual about his appearance was the white gloves he was wearing. The weather was a lot warmer but even during winter, almost no one bothered to wear gloves. Meiying fiddled with her classic bob-styled hair, biting her lip as she became very nervous.
‘Uh . . . Can I help you?’
‘Does Mr. Tsai live here?’A broken radio voice in her head snapped her from her reverie. His tone was lacing with intimidation as if he was a mafia that was sent to cause havoc.
‘Who are you?’ Meiying asked with a glare, suddenly forgot to apply her politeness.
‘A friend,’ he briefly answered, eyes never leaving her.‘An old friend,’ he added again, emphasising the ‘old’ that only made her question how old he was because he couldn’t be much older than her to be an old friend of her father.
She didn’t know why but suddenly she felt something cold running up her spine. Following her instinct, she shook her head and said, ‘He’s not here at the moment.’ But before she could close the door, her father showed up at a very bad moment.
‘Not here?’
‘Yes. Now, if you excuse me,’ Meiying curtly answered as she pulled the security door.
‘Who is it, Meiying?’ He casually walked to the entrance with a pineapple cake in his hand.
Meiying gasped at her father’s presence, but she instinctively pulled the door quickly. However, the man had already slipped his foot to keep the door ajar and smirked at her. ‘It appears that he’s here.’ How she cursed her decision to open the steel security door without checking who he was first.
‘No, he isn’t!’ Meiying didn’t even know why she didn’t feel like allowing this man to meet her father. After some experiences, she chose to rely on her instinct like the way she did at that moment.
‘Meiying, who is this young man? Does he disturb you?’ Her father quickly approached her.
‘Let me handle this, Pa!’ Meiying shouted. ‘Listen, I might be a woman but you better not mess up with me! Now go away and leave us be, you damned arsehole!’
The young man smirked like he was some sort of sadistic mafia. Meiying cursed herself for thinking how cool that smirk for a second but she had strengthened her will to not let her guard down.
‘Do I know you, Son?’ her father asked after observing the man from top to bottom.‘If you don’t have any business, I appreciate it if you leave. Don’t you have a family to celebrate Qingming?’
The man almost snorted. ‘To answer your first question—yes, you know me. You know my family, especially my brother . . .’ Guohan widened his eyes as if he remembered something. ‘That was a long time ago. Your second question—no, I don’t. It’s all thanks to you . . . Has Wang Huijun name rings any bell to you?’The pineapple cake fell from Guohan’s hand as he slowly lost all the colours in his face. Meiying quickly held her father when he started to lost his balance and let the door go.
‘Pa, are you okay? Pa?’ Meiying didn’t know what was going on but it seemed that whoever the man was he wasn’t coming for good. She only knew from the way her father reacted, the man before her might not be just an acquaintance.
It was Qingming Day and they saw the kind of ghost most people wouldn’t want to see . . .
It was a ghost from the past . . .
The presence they wished never come . . .
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author's note
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