Two Faced Lover - Chapter 33

33: Awakening of Insects

Perhaps because she had been thinking about long-ago travels and her long-abandoned Weibo account before bed, Bo Mingyan dreamed of many memories buried deep in her mind that night.

Her sleep was restless, the dream’s narrative fragmented—half-real, half-illusion.

After her father Bo Weize’s death and her mother Lin Huixin’s remarriage, Bo Mingyan’s life had changed drastically. A smoldering fire of unresolved emotions simmered within her, with no outlet. Never one to dump negativity on others, and wary of accidentally posting private thoughts publicly on WeChat, she’d taken a gaming friend’s advice and created a Weibo account.

There, she posted everything—joys, sorrows, things she could share and things she couldn’t. But after losing touch with that gaming friend, the account lay dormant until her trip to Everglades National Park during her studies in the U.S. The photos she took there reminded her of it, and she began using it again.

The photos must have been decent, because they garnered likes and even comments asking about locations. In a rare good mood that day, Bo Mingyan had replied.

Later, at Yellowstone National Park, another comment appeared under her photos: “Where next?”

But Bo Mingyan didn’t see this until two years later. After graduation, she’d thrown herself into work at ME, leaving no time for nostalgia—or Weibo.

On the night she resigned, she suddenly remembered to log in. Only then did she see the two-year-old comment. Without noticing the timestamp, she replied: [Niagara Falls].

When she realized the time gap, she couldn’t be bothered to delete it. Then she posted about her impulsive trip.

The day she visited Niagara Falls, the weather was unusually clear. Crowds packed the boat, and seeking space, Bo Mingyan went to the upper deck. She leaned against the railing in a corner, hood up, listening to the roaring falls and cheers around her as mist swirled in the wind.

“Look—a rainbow!” someone shouted.

“Wow! A double rainbow!”

A guide nearby explained, “You’re lucky. Single rainbows are common here, but doubles are rare.”

Everyone rushed to photograph it. Unwilling to jostle, Bo Mingyan stayed put, raising her phone. Through the lens, she saw a girl walking toward her against the crowd. Slowly lowering her phone, Bo Mingyan looked up.

The figure in an oversized blue raincoat moved through the mist step by step.

Just as Bo Mingyan felt she might see the face clearly, the falls roared, a curtain of white spray drenching everyone like a downpour. The boat lurched; Bo Mingyan felt herself falling. The railing was right there, yet she couldn’t reach it.

Then, from the other side, a pale hand stretched over, gripping hers tightly.

She knew this hand—smooth, slender, perfectly cared for.

Sunlight fractured on the water’s surface as the figure, haloed in light, seemed to plunge with her into icy depths.

“Manman…”

That clear voice cut through the churning water, unmistakable.

A name surfaced in Bo Mingyan’s mind, one she couldn’t voice aloud: Meng Jiaojiao…

The moment this thought formed, a strange sensation gripped her—like missing a step, or being trapped in a blank, walled space. It mirrored her first night in the U.K.: stifling, disorienting.

She saw Meng Xuran’s other arm reach around her waist, pulling her close until their bodies pressed together.

Then soft lips met hers.

At first just a tentative touch, then a nibble at her Cupid’s bow, light pecks—before suddenly deepening into a hungry kiss.

Bo Mingyan kissed back harder.

Gentleness gave way to biting.

She told herself it was just competitiveness, or reflex.

The faint sting on her lips blurred the line between dream and reality.

……

The ocean should have been cold.

Yet it grew warm, swirling like molten lava.

Sunlight danced on the water’s surface, the ripples near yet far, as if she were caught in a whirlpool, dragged deeper.

……

Bo Mingyan felt like a castaway suddenly finding driftwood.

She clung to it desperately, letting it carry her wherever.

At least she wouldn’t be alone anymore.

As this thought emerged, the gloomy sky split.

Golden light poured through, refracting into colorful bands underwater, illuminating half of Meng Xuran’s face.

In that light, Bo Mingyan saw herself pull Meng Xuran into an embrace.

Silky hair brushed her collarbone.

A tingling current shot straight to her heart.

……

“Manman~ Manman… Did you miss me?”

“Sister Manman… Sister~”

The whispers came like gentle rain—soft, deliberately sweet but not cloying.

Then, abruptly, they morphed into the breathy tones Meng Xuran had used during their dare earlier.

That slow, curling voice echoing in her ears.

Warm breath caressed her skin.

Unlike her daytime composure, dream-Bo Mingyan had no defenses.

Perhaps from the water, Meng Xuran’s voice and uneven breaths sounded damp, intimate.

Her usually elegant features were flushed, breathtakingly beautiful.

Fragile yet alluring.

Like a siren luring sailors into the depths.

Bo Mingyan wanted to hold her tighter, sink deeper together.

The heat of desire flowed like lava through her veins.

She wanted to see that blush deepen, to hear her name called over and over—

……

At 6 a.m., Bo Mingyan woke, dazed by the vivid dream. Thunder rumbled outside; rain streaked the windows. The room smelled faintly damp.

Just like the dream.

Her nightgown clung to her sweat-damp skin, twisted around her waist. Everything felt wrong.

Turning on the bedside lamp, she dug out fresh clothes and headed for the shower. Passing the master bedroom, she glanced instinctively—still dark.

Cool water washed away the lingering heat.

Bo Mingyan dragged her hands over her face.

Nearly thirty. It’s normal to have… needs. She’d even seen a roommate’s toys abroad. Perfectly normal.

Maybe yesterday’s dare had triggered this dream about Meng Xuran.

Just a dream.

She repeated it like a mantra, though her head throbbed.

Bo Mingyan had never experienced this before. Lu Yo often joked she’d taken “the path of emotional detachment”—she agreed. Her parents had slept separately since she could remember; she’d grown up watching their strained marriage.

This sticky, ambiguous dream left her unsettled.

By 7 a.m., the master bedroom remained dark. Relieved—she wasn’t ready to face Meng Xuran—she checked her phone. The Weibo commenters had deactivated their accounts.

Pensive, she grabbed her backpack and left quietly.

……

Five minutes later, Meng Xuran awoke, lingering in the afterglow of her dream.

Flushed, she buried her face in the pillow, then yelped as she rolled onto the floor. Sitting up, she ruffled her hair wildly.

“God, that was lethal.” she groaned.

Under the shower, fragments of the dream resurfaced.

Frame by frame, it replayed—unnervingly real.

In it, she’d teased deliberately, just like during the dare—but gone further.

And she’d watched, satisfied, as Bo Mingyan’s usual icy demeanor melted into something breathtaking.

Like a snow blossom coaxed into bloom—irresistible.

That contrast, that loss of control, was intoxicating.

Meng Xuran loved chipping away at Bo Mingyan’s defenses.

She wanted to uncover more hidden expressions, and hear suppressed whispers.

Then she woke up.

She’d had such dreams before, but they’d always been restrained—just kisses, never more.

This first full dream left her exhilarated… and flustered.

After dressing, she called Gu Miao.

“What now, Princess Meng?” Gu Miao mumbled sleepily.

“I had a wet dream.” Meng Xuran blurted.

“You—what?” Gu Miao woke fully. “Did you sleepwalk-call me?”

“I said,” Meng Xuran gritted out, “I had a s3x dream.”

Gu Miao exhaled. “And you woke me for this? It means you have needs. Want me to mail you a toy?”

“No way,” Meng Xuran scoffed. “I’m a total top.”

Gu Miao coughed. “Understood. I’ll order you a doll—”

“Ugh!” Meng Xuran hung up.

Tossing her phone, she paced before peeking into the hallway. Bo Mingyan’s door was shut, no light underneath.

Probably still asleep.

She tiptoed out, shushing Xiao Man.

After watering plants on the balcony (noticing the after-rain gloom), she read magazines, played with the cat, then watched muted TV.

By 11 a.m., hunger overrode her nerves. She knocked on Bo Mingyan’s door.

No answer.

A check of the shoe rack confirmed it: Bo Mingyan’s usual sneakers were gone.

Where would she go in this rain?

Note: “惊蛰” (Jīngzhé) is the third solar term in the Chinese lunar calendar, marking the ‘awakening of insects’ and the arrival of spring thunderstorms. Here, it metaphorically reflects the protagonist’s emotional stirrings.