Two Faced Lover - Chapter 18

18: The Trap

The driver, Uncle Cai, was specially assigned to Meng Xuran by Fu Changqing. From school to work, Meng Xuran had always been chauffeured by him.

Uncle Cai had only ever seen Meng Xuran in two states: one was heading to school or work with sleepiness and grumpiness, her face practically screaming “don’t talk to me.” The other was after-school or after-work excitement, chattering nonstop.

But seeing Meng Xuran so bright-eyed and energetic during work hours was a first. Uncle Cai found it quite novel and took advantage of the traffic jam to sneak glances into the rearview mirror.

After about three such glances, Uncle Cai suddenly felt something was a little off.

The car was unusually quiet. Princess Meng usually lounged in her seat however she pleased, and this habit never changed just because there was someone else in the car. When she was in a good mood, she would even chatter nonstop.

But now, she was sitting stiffly upright without saying a word.

After watching her for a while, Uncle Cai subconsciously straightened his own posture as well.

However, Meng Xuran’s rigid sitting position didn’t last long.

The car got stuck in traffic on Nanquan City Bridge for a while, lurching forward and stopping repeatedly. The empty feeling in Meng Xuran’s stomach grew uncomfortable, so she leaned back, grabbed a nearby pillow to hug against her chest, and gradually settled into her usual relaxed posture.

From the elevator ride until now, neither she nor Bo Mingyan had spoken a word. It seemed no different from their usual routine at work, but for some reason, Meng Xuran couldn’t shake the feeling that Bo Mingyan had become distant again.

Out of the corner of her eye, Bo Mingyan sat beside her, head slightly lowered as she scrolled through her phone, the gold chain on her glasses frame swaying faintly in the air.

As for what was on the screen—Hah, pitch black, can’t see a thing—her phone must have a privacy screen protector.

Originally, Bo Mingyan had been browsing through the runway photos from the fashion show Meng Xuran attended a couple of days ago. She had only looked through a dozen or so when a barrage of group chat notifications popped up on the screen. She tapped into the chat.

Ava: [Bo Mingyan! Little Mingyan, if you don’t get to work soon, you’ll be late! Kiss your perfect attendance bonus goodbye!!]

Hu Liuri: [Sister Ava, Sister Mingyan isn’t going to work today. She’s on a business trip with Little Director Meng.]

Ava: [Business trip? For what?]

Liu Yang: [The actress for the female lead in Assassination got replaced, remember? Mingyan’s in charge of the costumes for that role.]

Ava: […Oh sh1t, I totally forgot!]

Zhou Wenlin: [Bo Mingyan, could you get me a signed photo of that actress? My daughter really likes her.]

Bo Mingyan: [I’ll try.]

Just as she finished replying, Sun Haoqi suddenly popped up: [Xiao Bo, can you get me one too?]

Seeing this, Bo Mingyan froze for a moment. The people chatting earlier were all from the haute couture team, so she hadn’t even realized this was the design department’s main group chat—not their smaller, internal one.

She wasn’t the only one caught off guard. Ava blurted out right in the main group: [Holy sh1t, this isn’t our private chat!]

According to gossip Liu Yang had shared, Sun Haoqi’s managerial position was originally supposed to go to Zhou Wenlin. But then Sun Haoqi parachuted in and took the spot. Zhou Wenlin was well-liked for her generosity, and the younger members of the haute couture team all admired her, so they naturally united in their dislike for Sun Haoqi.

Silence fell over the main group. Meanwhile, messages started flooding into their private chat, “Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea”:

Liu Yang: [Girl, can you PLEASE check the group name next time? I even gave it such a badass title for you.]

Hu Liuri: [Pfft.]

Zhu Lijia: [Pfft.]

Tong Shiyi: [Pfft.]

Ava: [Are you all kettles or what? “Pfft pfft pfft.” Thank god that annoying guy posted first, or I almost said something wild.]

Liu Yang: [What wild thing?]

Ava: [I was gonna ask Xiao Mingyan to check if Little Boss Meng is dating someone.]

Liu Yang: [What’s it to you whether Little Boss Meng is dating or not?]

Ava: [A gossip’s soul runs on drama, don’t you get it?]

Hu Liuri: [Genuine question—how would you even observe that?]

Ava: [Her expression when she’s on calls or texting! Like that smile she had in the video last time—total “sweetheart in love” vibes.]

Reading along, Bo Mingyan thought to herself:

Some people just have sweet smiles by default. It has nothing to do with who they’re talking to.

Because back then, Meng Xuran hadn’t been on the phone with some lover—she’d been talking to her.

[Ava] chimed in again in the group chat: “Also, check if she’s wearing any couple items—phone cases, necklaces, earrings, you name it~ Trust me, these little details are just as telling for sniffing out affairs.”

Liu Yang responded with an impressed sound effect: “Woo~!” Once he broke the ice, the group ditched their teakettle impressions and went completely off the rails.

Outside, the traffic began crawling forward, inching toward the traffic lights at the base of the bridge before halting again.

Bo Mingyan skimmed the messages, then suddenly remembered the hair tie. She fished it out from the side pocket of her satchel and held it out. “I meant to return this yesterday, but your room lights were already off…”

The car descended the bridge, circling onto the loop road as sunlight shifted from the left rear window to the right, slanting across Meng Xuran’s face.

Blinding and scorching.

Meng Xuran squinted slightly, her stomach churning harder.

Several seconds passed, but the hair tie still lay untouched in Bo Mingyan’s palm. Her gaze dropped to Meng Xuran’s hands—slender, elegant fingers curled into the pillow, almond-shaped nails sinking into the soft fabric.

Bo Mingyan glanced up just in time to catch the fleeting furrow of Meng Xuran’s brows.

The sunlight pouring through the glass was radiant; Little Princess Meng’s expression was glacial.

Then, without a word, Meng Xuran released the pillow and took the hair tie, stuffing it carelessly into her bag beside her.

The bag—a petite evening clutch Meng Xuran had crafted from fabric scraps—could barely fit a phone, cards, and makeup. The hair tie ended up wedged against the phone’s corner, precariously close to tumbling out the next time she reached for it.

Bo Mingyan’s gaze lingered on the bag for a few seconds before shifting to her own. The side pocket was still open, revealing a corner of an energy bar wrapper.

She fished out the energy bar and a piece of chocolate, hesitated for two seconds, then reached toward Meng Xuran, palm upturned. “Do you want to eat?”

“?” Meng Xuran’s eyes flickered between the chocolate and energy bar. She licked her red lips. “Eat.”

When Meng Xuran only took the chocolate, Bo Mingyan said, “Take both.”

Meng Xuran paused, then plucked them one by one from her hand.

Her fingertips brushed lightly—almost imperceptibly—against Bo Mingyan’s palm.

A faint, tingling sensation, inexplicable yet unmistakable.

Bo Mingyan’s index finger twitched slightly. Three seconds after Meng Xuran had taken them, she withdrew her hand.

The wrappers carried a trace of warmth. Though September in Nanquan City was even hotter than July or August, the car’s AC was blasting, leaving the chocolate firm and cool. That warmth could only have come from Bo Mingyan’s own hand.

Meng Xuran unwrapped the chocolate and let it melt in her mouth.

As the rich sweetness spread across her tongue, she thought to herself: Good. Nothing’s changed.

Once, Fu Junxue had described Bo Mingyan as an icy lake—even if the surface thawed, the water beneath would still be freezing to the touch.

But Meng Xuran had never agreed.

She knew Bo Mingyan. Knew her from all those times she’d drawn close.

Bo Mingyan wasn’t an icy lake. She was a thick wall built from layer upon layer of waterlogged paper. The only way through was with the right kind of warmth—patient, persistent, just hot enough to slowly peel her apart.

The temperature had to be precisely controlled.

Too cold, and the layers wouldn’t budge. Too hot, and they’d scorch.

But get it just right, and what remained would still hold warmth enough to give back.

“Remember to eat breakfast next time.” Bo Mingyan remarked, her tone neither cold nor warm.

See? A return of warmth.

“Oh…” Meng Xuran fished out a bottle of water from the compartment. “There’s one on your side too—just take it if you’re thirsty.”

Her hand paused mid-twist of the cap. “Wait, how did you know I didn’t eat breakfast?”

Bo Mingyan picked up her own water. “I wear glasses, but the prescription’s very low.”

In other words: I’m not blind.

With smooth traffic and a string of green lights, the car moved effortlessly. After finishing the energy bar and some water, Meng Xuran’s discomfort faded, her mind sharpening.

“Then you must’ve seen me switch the cat and fish to automatic feeders this morning?”

She’d woken at six, installed the feeders, then spent over an hour agonizing over her outfit and another on hair and makeup.

She had skipped breakfast.

But Bo Mingyan hadn’t been awake when she returned to her room, and afterward, she’d stayed inside—so when could Bo Mingyan have seen her?

Realizing the implication, Bo Mingyan clarified, “I meant your complexion.”

Meng Xuran let out a soft “Ah,” turning fully toward her. “Was it that bad?”

The anxious lilt in her voice made Bo Mingyan instinctively glance over for a closer look.

Meng Xuran arched a brow, lips curving up.

Right now, her complexion was far from “bad”—skin like polished jade, brows like distant mountains. Bo Mingyan’s guarded gaze swept over the carefully accentuated cupid’s bow of her lips before lifting to meet her sparkling, laughter-filled eyes.

After a brief collision of their stares, Bo Mingyan looked away.

She took two gulps of water, voice flat. “Not bad.”

“‘Not bad’ means fine then.” Meng Xuran began twisting definitions.

“…Mm.”

“If it was fine, how’d you know I skipped breakfast?”

“Now it’s fine.” Bo Mingyan explained patiently, drinking again.

“Oh~ So earlier it wasn’t?”

“…No. Earlier, it wasn’t great.” Hooked, Bo Mingyan played along.

“Oh~” Meng Xuran paused, suppressing a grin. “You were watching me.”

The light turned green, but the car ahead didn’t move. Uncle Cai honked twice, drowning out Bo Mingyan’s reply: “What?”

“I said,” Meng Xuran slowed her words, “earlier, did you use your low-prescription eyes to watch me and conclude I hadn’t eaten?”

“……”

The water Bo Mingyan had just sipped turned to lead in her throat, choking off any retort.

Meng Xuran, wisely, didn’t press further.

Silence settled again, but the atmosphere was nothing like during the traffic jam. Uncle Cai peeked at them in the rearview mirror, his grin taking its sweet time to fade.

Meng Xuran propped an elbow on the window ledge, fingers pressed to her lips to hide their upward tilt.

Bo Mingyan fixed her gaze outside.

How had this back-and-forth ended like this?

Her mind replayed the exchange as she watched pedestrians flow past.

At the sidewalk’s end was a low step—barely a stumble, yet countless people missed it.

Just like Meng Xuran’s little traps. Shallow, obvious.

And yet, she’d still stepped right in.