Two Faced Lover - Chapter 12

12: Untamed

‎It had been years since Meng Xuran last stayed at the old family home. Unused to the bed, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Eventually, she turned on the light, grabbed a pen and her inspiration sketchbook from the table, and began doodling aimlessly.
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‎Every fashion designer had an inspiration book—filled with magazine clippings, design ideas, and creative elements.
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‎But right now, her mind was a tangled mess.
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‎After scribbling randomly for a while, her strokes gradually became smoother. Black lines traced the outline of a woman’s figure—her head slightly tilted, eyes downcast, exuding a cold yet enchanting beauty, her silhouette graceful with just the right hint of allure.
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‎Her sketchbook was full of clothing designs, but this one drawing stood out—because it had no clothes.
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‎Meng Xuran stared at the sketch, lost in thought, until the tail of her black Bombay cat, sprawled on the table, flicked over and covered the woman’s back. Snapping out of her daze, she realized how parched she was.
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‎Grabbing the air conditioner remote and a glass from the nightstand, she drank half the water and turned the AC down another degree.
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‎Shoving the Bombay cat aside, she snapped the sketchbook shut, unplugged her charging cable, and picked up her phone.
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‎The screen showed 03:48.
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‎Just then, Bo Mingyan replied to her message from four hours ago—the one asking what time she’d go grocery shopping.
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‎With a single question mark.
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‎Meng Xuran suspected the woman might still be half-asleep. Otherwise, how could she not understand such a straightforward question?
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‎She started typing: I want to go with you tomorrow—
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‎Then abruptly stopped.
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‎That felt too clingy. She had no interest in repeating the experience of throwing warmth at someone’s cold indifference.
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‎Deleting the half-written message, she pursed her lips and settled on:
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‎[Haven’t seen grocery shopping before. Just observing.]
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‎Then, she saw the “Typing…” indicator appear above the chat. Her feet, sticking out from under the AC blanket, swayed impatiently as she waited.
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‎After a solid ten seconds, a reply finally popped up.
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‎[Cat: ?]
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‎[Still Gotta Add Me: ??]
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‎Staring at the three question marks stacked vertically, Meng Xuran suddenly felt like a brainless elementary schooler—responding to one “?” with two.
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‎If Bo Mingyan were equally brainless, they might’ve built a pyramid of question marks.
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‎[Cat: I’ll just record it for you when I go.]
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‎Clearly, Bo Mingyan had no interest in question-mark pyramids. Her reply was swift.
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‎Record it? Was this a soft rejection? Meng Xuran scowled and typed slowly:
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‎[Where do you shop for groceries?]
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‎The “Typing…” indicator reappeared. Her feet swayed through countless imaginary arcs, but the reply never came.
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‎Just as she was about to unleash three more question marks, an image popped up.
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‎A screenshot of a grocery delivery app.
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‎The sheer “Are you serious?” energy radiated through the screen. Meng Xuran was even more exasperated. She turned off the light, slid under the covers, and yanked the blanket over her head.
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‎A drawn-out groan escaped from beneath the fabric—equal parts frustration and irritation.
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‎A slender hand emerged from the blanket, shooing away the Bombay cat begging for attention. Groping for the AC remote, she turned the temperature down two more degrees.
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‎The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Right before sleep finally claimed her, she couldn’t resist reopening WeChat.
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‎Bo Mingyan had asked what she wanted to eat.
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‎She replied with a “Whatever” then clicked into Bo Mingyan’s profile and changed her contact name to:
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‎[Untamed.]
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‎…
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‎By noon, scorching sunlight poured through the windows, painting the floor in golden warmth. Yet Meng Xuran woke up shivering—chest tight, head heavy, and utterly miserable.
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‎The chest pressure came from her 10-pound chonker of a cat sprawled on her. The grogginess and stuffy nose? A full night of 17°C AC.
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‎After two consecutive sneezes, the cat on her chest grumbled and shifted positions.
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‎Her temper flaring, Meng Xuran shoved the cat off the bed. “You’re judging me? Watch me cut off your fish snacks!”
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‎Another sneeze. She grabbed tissues from the nightstand and checked her phone—the chat still frozen on Bo Mingyan’s grocery app screenshot.
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‎Pressing long on the image, the options [Delete] and [Select Multiple] popped up. She tapped back and forth several times but couldn’t bring herself to delete it.
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‎With a sigh, she dragged herself out of bed. After washing up, she stepped into the hallway.
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‎”Has Xuxu not gotten up yet?”
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‎Her grandmother’s voice floated up from downstairs. Meng Xuran paused at the railing, peering down—
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‎Auntie Lin, the housekeeper, was setting dishes on the dining table. She greeted them before bustling off, leaving only Grandma Fu and Meng Yao. Once Auntie Lin was out of earshot, Meng Yao spoke up:
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‎”She was up late last night.”
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‎Grandma Fu made a sound—half laugh, half scoff. “Up late working? More like playing. You’ve spoiled her too much. Look at Junjun—already off to work early, so responsible.”
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‎She slowly took her seat at the head of the table and added, “If not for that incident, I would’ve raised her too. Then the sisters wouldn’t be so different.”
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‎A sharp clink—a spoon hitting the pot.
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‎Meng Yao was usually deliberate in her movements. This sound was unmistakably intentional. Her entire body tensed like a drawn bowstring.
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‎Handing Grandma Fu a bowl of soup, she finally snapped:
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‎”If you had raised her, that incident wouldn’t have happened.”
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‎Years ago, Fu Changqing and Meng Yao were busy building their business, leaving childcare to the elders. Fu Junxue was practically raised by Grandma Fu, but Meng Xuran wasn’t. At five years old, Grandma Fu forgot her in a car—an oversight that nearly cost her life. After the rescue, Meng Yao quit her job to raise Meng Xuran herself.
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‎From then on, Meng Yao and Fu Changqing overcompensated with near-blind indulgence. Meanwhile, Grandma Fu, trying to atone while proving she could raise a successful child, constantly praised Fu Junxue at Meng Xuran’s expense.
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‎Everyone assumed Meng Xuran didn’t remember.
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‎But she did.
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‎The despair of watching the world fade through blurred vision as death crept closer.
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‎The icy air trapped in her room all night seeped through the open door, wrapping around her, chilling her skin and sinking into her bones.
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‎Blinking hard against the sting in her eyes, she rubbed her reddened nose. She was definitely getting sick.
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‎The black cat nuzzled her ankle.
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‎”Meow.”
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‎Breaking the tension downstairs.
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‎Both Meng Yao and Grandma Fu looked up to see Meng Xuran leaning against the second-floor railing—a loose cardigan draped over her fitted nightgown. She crouched, her tall frame folding into a small bundle, the cardigan swallowing her whole.
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‎Fragile and thin.
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‎She patted the cat’s head.
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‎”I’m going home soon.”
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‎…
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‎Bo Mingyan slept soundly the second half of the night, dreamless.
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‎Waking naturally, she checked her phone first.
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‎Meng Xuran hadn’t replied after the grocery app screenshot.
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‎Hu Jingjing had recommended the app, but Bo Mingyan suddenly didn’t feel like using it. She decided to visit the supermarket at the downtown mall instead—and pick up some household supplies.
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‎After getting ready, she grabbed her bag from the coat rack and headed to the entryway to switch shoes.
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‎The door clicked—and abruptly swung open from the outside.
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‎Bo Mingyan, mid-step into her fisherman sandals, froze and lifted her gaze.
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‎A pair of gleaming emerald-green eyes met her smoky-gray ones.
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‎A very handsome black cat, coat glossy and well-groomed, stared back.
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‎A silent standoff.
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‎Several seconds passed.
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‎”Meeow!” The cat broke first.
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‎”…”
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‎A foot nudged the cat’s behind from behind.
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‎Nude strappy sandals, soft pale feet, tiny toes painted in sheer peach polish—understated yet sweet.
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‎”Stop yowling. Move inside.” Meng Xuran’s voice came from above, thick with congestion.
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‎The cat’s tail swirled in the air, but it obediently trotted in, sniffing around to explore.
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‎Bo Mingyan straightened as Meng Xuran turned to close the door, then set the cat carrier on the entryway shelf.
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‎”Going out?” Meng Xuran asked.
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‎Bo Mingyan hummed, tilting her head slightly.
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‎Meng Xuran rubbed her nose. Her hands were pale, but her face was paler.
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‎Almost sickly.
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‎”I thought you were ordering delivery.” she muttered.
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‎”Need to buy other things too.” Bo Mingyan tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, recalling yesterday’s messages. “Still want to observe?”
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‎The car ride home had blasted AC the whole way, worsening her discomfort. Meng Xuran bit her lip, listless. “Never mind. Not feeling great.”
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‎Bo Mingyan studied her profile for a moment before looking away, pressing her lips together. Then she turned and left.
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‎The door locked behind her.
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‎Meng Xuran whipped around, staring at it for a full minute before puffing her cheeks in a pout.
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‎…
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‎There was a pharmacy near the supermarket.
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‎Passing it on her way in, Bo Mingyan glanced inside but didn’t stop.
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‎On her way back, laden with bags, she looked again—walked past, then pivoted on her heel and went in.
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‎Five minutes later, she stared at the cold medicine in her hand and sighed imperceptibly.
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‎…
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‎The apartment was silent when she returned. Hauling groceries to the kitchen, she heard a sneeze from the master bedroom.
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‎Filling a glass with water, she grabbed the medicine and knocked.
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‎”What?” A muffled grumble.
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‎Bo Mingyan didn’t answer.
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‎A pause, then the door clicked open.
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‎Pushing it ajar, she found Meng Xuran sprawled facedown on the bed, forearm over her eyes.
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‎Something fluffy brushed her ankle. Startled, Bo Mingyan nearly spilled the water. The black cat looked up at her with a sugary “Meow~”
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‎”You had the cat open the door?”
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‎”Mhm.” Meng Xuran didn’t turn. “What? I’m sick.”
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‎Bo Mingyan stepped inside—her first time in Meng Xuran’s room—and headed straight for the bed. “Take medicine.”
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‎”Don’t like medicine.”
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‎Bo Mingyan turned to leave.
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‎Meng Xuran moved her arm, peeking just in time to snatch the pills before Bo Mingyan could retreat.
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‎”…” Bo Mingyan silently noted her red-rimmed eyes and arched a brow.
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‎Cried pretty hard, huh?
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‎Sitting up, Meng Xuran mumbled, “Thought you were insulting me.”
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‎The cat meowed at her, as if urging her to take the pills.
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‎Bo Mingyan handed her the water. “Even the cat’s smarter than you.”
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‎Quiet, but Meng Xuran heard. “Tch. You couldn’t beat it either.”
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‎”What’s its name?”
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‎Meng Xuran looked up.
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‎Her peach-blossom eyes, rimmed red and glistening, reflected Bo Mingyan’s face.
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‎Holding her gaze, she enunciated:
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‎”Xiao Man.”