Two Faced Lover - Chapter 34

34: Faint Light

Yesterday, seeing Meng Xuran looking all pitiful and eager to go skating again, Bo Mingyan had originally considered postponing her visit to the Longgu Mountain Cemetery to sweep her father Bo Weize’s grave until the next day. But after that ambiguous, dreamy encounter, she felt it would be better to stick to the original plan.

For one, it would avoid the awkwardness of meeting right after such a dream. For another, she could also use the trip to clear her mind and sort through her emotions. By the time she returned home, everything would hopefully be back to normal.

Bo Mingyan checked the route—getting from Bishui Yuntian to Longgu Mountain Cemetery required taking a bus, transferring twice on the subway, and then another bus. A conservative estimate put the trip at two hours.

Two hours later, Bo Mingyan stepped off the bus. According to the navigation, she still had to walk another 2.4 kilometers.

Nanquan City was often mocked for having “road construction 366 days out of a 365-day year” and the area around Longgu Mountain was no exception. Only half of the broad road remained passable, pitted and uneven, with puddles everywhere from the rain.

After walking just halfway, her shoes were already filthy. She glanced down—compared to the mud now caking them, the marks Meng Xuran had left on her shoes could almost be called pristine.

When she finally arrived at the cemetery, Bo Mingyan registered at the service office, bought a stack of spirit money and matches, then purchased flowers from a vendor. At the checkout, she was persuaded into buying offerings as well.

Carrying her purchases, she climbed the seemingly endless steps that stretched toward the horizon, passing row after row of tombstones until she located Bo Weize’s grave based on the sequence number provided by the service desk.

It had been five or six years since her last visit. Back then, before leaving, she had purchased an annual maintenance plan. The cemetery staff had been diligent—fresh flowers from the day before still lay at the base of the tombstone.

Bo Mingyan stared at the small gray photo on the tombstone for a long time before whispering very softly,

“Dad…”

“It’s been so long since I last came to see you.”

“I’m sorry…”

The gentle, refined man in the photo wore a faint smile on his face, frozen in that moment forever—incapable of any further emotion.

Incapable of giving her any response.

Bo Mingyan bent down, brushed aside the withered flowers, and placed the fresh bouquet and offerings in her hands. She raised her fingers, her fingertips grazing the photo lightly.

Even after so many years, she still remembered vividly the day Bo Weize passed away. She had been sitting in class when her teacher suddenly called her out. Taking the teacher’s phone, she heard Lin Huixin say, “Come to First People’s Hospital. See your father for the last time.”

Her heart panicked wildly as she sprinted frantically down the road outside the school.

This city loved planting parasol trees, and that day, the air was filled with drifting catkins, chaotic and untethered, severed from their roots.

In the end, she never got to see Bo Weize one last time. He couldn’t hold on until she arrived at the hospital.

Bo Mingyan still remembered how she felt when she saw Bo Weize then.

It was like that gloomy, overcast sky—thick, oppressive clouds gathered as if on the verge of collapse.

The “sky” that had indulged her willfulness, given her endless patience and tenderness, and embraced her unconditionally had indeed collapsed.

For a long time afterward—when Lin Huixin grew colder and more indifferent after remarrying, no longer wanting to care for her; when she was sent abroad by Lin Huixin like discarded baggage; when she found herself in a completely unfamiliar environment, unable to even understand what people around her were saying; when she was forced to grow up and handle things Bo Weize would never have let her endure; when she curled up alone, counting the hours through countless long, desolate nights—Bo Mingyan wished, every time she opened her eyes, that everything would turn out to be just a dream.

She thought that if she could just wake up, the hands of time would turn backward.

But each time she awoke, she only grew more acutely aware that this life, worse than any nightmare, was still relentlessly moving forward.

The wind swept in from distant treetops, carrying the chill of autumn.

Bo Mingyan wore a knitted sweater today, with a thin camisole underneath—neither provided much warmth. The autumn wind seeped through the gaps in the fabric, as if piercing straight into her bones.

She shivered, hugged her arms, and stood there a while longer before heading to the cemetery’s designated area for burning joss paper.

Many people had come to visit graves ahead of the holiday. At the moment, the two large cylindrical iron barrels were sparsely or densely surrounded by mourners. Bo Mingyan glanced around and noticed a family leaving a spot to the west. She walked over and claimed the space.

The bag inscribed with an address and name, filled with folded paper ingots and money, was tossed into the iron barrel. In no time, it was devoured by flames. Bo Mingyan let out a slow breath and turned to leave.

As she passed by another barrel, someone called out to her.

“Man… Mingyan?”

The voice was like a cup of plain water left to settle over time—neither warm nor cold. Bo Mingyan’s heart gave an inexplicable jump. She followed the sound and looked over.

Two or three meters away, the familiar features of a middle-aged woman came into view. The woman wore a linen dress layered under a thin wool coat, her makeup light, her loosely curled hair falling to her shoulders.

She had aged well. Her figure gave little hint of her age, and the marks left by time on her face were far fainter than those of other women her age. She was still as poised and elegant as ever, her charm undiminished.

“Mom.” A single, simple word, yet it stuck in her throat. Bo Mingyan swallowed twice but couldn’t force it out.

Lin Huixin was blocking someone’s path. She stepped aside slightly to let them pass, then walked toward Bo Mingyan, her expression tinged with pleasant surprise. “Chencheng said you were in Shen City. When did you return to Nanquan?”

As she spoke, Lin Huixin studied Bo Mingyan intently. It had been so many years since they last met that, were it not for that unmistakable mixed-race face so reminiscent of that person, she might not have recognized her.

He Chencheng again. Bo Mingyan’s brows furrowed briefly before smoothing out. Her face expressionless, she replied, “I was in Shen City for work.”

Their last phone call had ended unpleasantly, leaving Lin Huixin at a loss for words. She knew almost nothing about Bo Mingyan’s life now.

Belated concern is lighter than grass.

An awkward silence fell.

The interaction between mother and daughter was stiffer than between strangers—and Bo Mingyan avoided even casual contact with strangers whenever possible. Glancing at the paper bag in Lin Huixin’s hand, she pressed her lips together and reminded her, “The joss paper—aren’t you going to burn it?”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

Lin Huixin hurried toward the metal barrel but turned back when she noticed Bo Mingyan walking away. She pivoted and jogged after her, her high heels unsteady on the uneven pavement. Her ankle twisted, and she instinctively grabbed Bo Mingyan’s arm.

Almost the instant they made contact, Bo Mingyan reflexively shook her off.

Lin Huixin hissed in pain.

Bo Mingyan turned back to see her mother’s brows tightly knitted together. After a slight hesitation, she raised her arm and reached out to steady her.

Lin Huixin’s expression softened. “If you’re free… Could you have lunch with me? It’s been so long since we’ve eaten together.”

Bo Mingyan: “……”

Sometimes, being soft-hearted is a sickness.

Half an hour later, as Bo Mingyan followed Lin Huixin into a Western restaurant, this thought crossed her mind.

Bo Mingyan set down her knife and fork after eating only half of her steak.

Seeing that she had arranged her utensils in a way that signaled the end of the meal, Lin Huixin asked with concern, “Does the steak not suit your taste? Why don’t you take a look at the menu and see if there’s anything else you’d like? Their Western cuisine is very authentic.”

The company at a meal determines one’s appetite. Bo Mingyan just wanted to finish quickly and leave. She took a sip of water and said, “No need. I’ve already grown tired of Western food.”

Lin Huixin’s movements became somewhat flustered. She drank two glasses of water in quick succession and offered an awkward smile. “Right, my oversight. You don’t know how to cook, and you must have eaten this often while studying in the UK.”

Bo Mingyan gave a faint, humorless smile and said nothing.

In truth, the first time she had ever attempted cooking, she had sent a photo to Lin Huixin. But judging by her reaction, Lin Huixin had clearly forgotten.

“Come home sometime, and I’ll cook for you.” Lin Huixin said, her mood lifting as she gazed at Bo Mingyan with a touch of tenderness.

Whose home? Whose mother? Bo Mingyan lowered her eyes, remaining silent.

Lin Huixin continued, “Back then, I was always worried you wouldn’t have enough to eat or that you wouldn’t adjust to Western food. And I’d heard Chinese cuisine abroad was especially expensive, so I was afraid the money I sent you each time wouldn’t be enough.”

“You always sent more than enough. I’ve kept track of every transfer.” Bo Mingyan replied with a shallow smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

She had switched from addressing Lin Huixin casually as “you” to the more formal “you.”

Lin Huixin, oblivious, smiled along—only for her expression to freeze the next second.

“Every single one, recorded.” Bo Mingyan added, pouring more water into her glass.

The water rippled slightly, a lone lemon seed sinking to the bottom.

“You never shortchanged me materially.” Bo Mingyan said after a long pause, her tone steady. “But material things can never replace emotional connection.”

Lin Huixin’s lips parted, but no words came out. A sudden realization rose in her mind.

Over the years, Bo Mingyan had been transferring money to her intermittently—sometimes as little as three or four thousand, other times as much as fifty or sixty thousand. Lin Huixin had assumed it was Bo Mingyan’s way of expressing gratitude for her years of care, much like how many children start sending money to their parents once they begin working.

Only at this moment did she vaguely sense something amiss—Bo Mingyan wasn’t showing gratitude. She was repaying a debt.

“I actually…” Lin Huixin bit her lip as she looked at Bo Mingyan’s face, her eyes gradually reddening.

Bo Mingyan no longer wanted to continue this conversation. She remembered the bag of joss paper Lin Huixin had burned before leaving and connected it to the bouquet of flowers at Bo Weize’s grave. Deliberately circling around the obvious, she asked, “Did you come to visit the cemetery today?”

“Ah, yes.” Lin Huixin rubbed her eyes and explained, “Today is the death anniversary of your Uncle He’s parents. He’s away on a business trip, so I came to pay respects on his behalf.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Lin Huixin realized her mistake. Sure enough, when she looked up, Bo Mingyan’s expression had darkened.

“So you didn’t come to see Dad?” Bo Mingyan’s eyes wavered. “All these years… have you ever visited him?”

Lin Huixin pressed her lips together, reflexively tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and touching her earlobe. “I—”

“Don’t lie to me. The cemetery keeps visitation records.” Bo Mingyan cut in sharply.

It was lunchtime. At the table two rows ahead of them sat a family of three, their cheerful laughter drifting over faintly, casting their own silence into an awkward contrast.

Nothing more needed to be said.

The answer was already clear.

She should have expected it. After all, in her memory, Lin Huixin had never shown the slightest affection for Bo Weize—it had always been him protecting her. But at this moment, seeing Lin Huixin hesitate without offering an explanation, Bo Mingyan couldn’t stop the disappointment from spilling into her smoke-gray eyes.

“Manman, listen to me…” Lin Huixin paused, carefully weighing her words.

Bo Mingyan took off her glasses. She didn’t want to hear it. Picking up her phone from the table, she stood, unwilling to stay a second longer.

Lin Huixin quickly grabbed her hand. “Wait.”

Bo Mingyan tensed, her entire body radiating resistance. She frowned and tried to pull free. “Let go.”

As they struggled, the phone in Bo Mingyan’s hand rang, the screen lighting up with two characters: Meng Xuran.

In that instant, Bo Mingyan’s eyes brightened as well.

Lin Huixin released her grip. Without a backward glance, Bo Mingyan strode out, clutching her phone.

“Hellooo~ I won’t ask where you went or what you’re doing. I just want to know,” Meng Xuran’s voice, drawling and playful, came through the phone, “when are you coming home? Not that I’m rushing you back or anything, but, you know, I need to plan—should I handle lunch and dinner myself, or will you come back to feed me? Not that I need you to come back and feed me, but I’d hate to eat on my own only for you to show up later with groceries. That’d just waste all your effort, right?”

The same word “home” fell upon Bo Mingyan’s ears, stirring ripples of different emotions.

She had originally intended to stay out until dark.

But at this moment, listening to Meng Xuran’s awkward, rambling chatter, she suddenly wanted—immediately—to return to that home.

There, vibrant flowers and plants thrived, carefree fish drifted lazily, and an extremely clingy little black cat prowled.

And there was also a certain tsundere.

Yet, at three in the afternoon, when Bo Mingyan arrived home with a signature cake from a popular dessert shop in the northern district, only Xiaoman greeted her with a meow. The living room was empty, and the kitchen showed no signs of recent use. After setting down the cake, Bo Mingyan hesitated for a moment before pulling out her phone to call Meng Xuran.

The line rang over a dozen times before it was finally answered.

“Ah—ow—”

A pained moan, distant yet close, seemed to come both through the phone and from somewhere nearby.

Bo Mingyan’s brows furrowed slightly. “I’m home. I bought the cake you wanted. Where are you?”

After a pause, Meng Xuran’s voice came through, trembling with tears: “I’m in the room. Come help me—I can’t get up.”

Author’s Note:

Next chapter preview—Meng Jiaojiao has fallen in the bathroom!