Two Faced Lover - Chapter 36

36: Cracks

Bo Mingyan let out a soft chuckle from the depths of her throat, “And then have both of us fall together again?”

Given Meng Xuran’s current state—barely able to walk herself—she still wanted to carry her out.

While Bo Mingyan was considering the practicalities—if they really fell again, Meng Xuran probably wouldn’t be able to get up, and they might need to call an ambulance to haul her away—her thoughts drifted, her gaze lingering on Meng Xuran’s robe.

Was she wearing nothing underneath?

If they had to drag her out, would her robe slip and expose her?

Bo Mingyan’s eyes darkened slightly.

Meanwhile, Meng Xuran was already lost in her own fantasy—Bo Mingyan falling into her arms in a dramatic, romance-novel pose, their soft lips meeting, those smoky gray eyes reflecting her own image like gemstones. Their gazes locked as if the whole world had gone silent, until a droplet from the showerhead splashed down, sending ripples through the air, and time ticked forward again…

At that moment, she would loop her arms around Bo Mingyan’s pale neck, capturing her lips.

Like eating jelly, she’d first tease with the tip of her tongue, then gently nip and tug at the plump lower lip until it softened, sucking it into her mouth.

Then, slowly, savoring every bit.

Afterward, she’d lean close to Bo Mingyan’s ear, blowing warm breaths, teasing relentlessly, waiting until Bo Mingyan was dazed and breathless—then she’d ask, “So? Am I good or not? Skilled or not?”

Bo Mingyan, still pondering whether to suggest a change of clothes, noticed the flush on Meng Xuran’s face. Her brows furrowed slightly as she abruptly changed the subject, “Why is your face so red? Did you catch a fever from wearing too little?”

Meng Xuran jolted back to reality, hastily denying, “N-No, I don’t have a fev—” She pressed her lips together, cutting herself off.

“…”

The air froze.

Meng Xuran’s face burned as if set aflame. She wished she could bite off her own tongue, dig a hole, and disappear into it. She covered her entire face with both hands.

Bo Mingyan let out a slow, drawn-out, “Oh” nodding twice with deliberate slowness.

Like a playback at 0.5x speed, it felt unbearably suggestive.

Humiliated and flustered, Meng Xuran peeked through her fingers, glaring at Bo Mingyan. But the next second, her lashes fluttered, her eyes shimmering as if about to spill over.

Bo Mingyan leaned down, reaching out to press a hand against Meng Xuran’s forehead.

Her palm was warm and dry, her gaze focused and gentle. Meng Xuran’s mind drifted—years ago, she’d sat on a boat gliding across a lake, watching the morning mist cling to the mountains, the water clear and rippling. At that moment, she’d thought of these very eyes, wondering how they’d look filled with desire, thinking that if she could, she’d drown in them forever.

Bo Mingyan withdrew her hand. “Normal temperature. You really don’t have a… fever.”

Meng Xuran narrowed her eyes, silently threatening her.

Bo Mingyan pretended not to notice the domineering look, instead advising, “You should still change. Don’t catch a cold.”

Meng Xuran huffed softly. “I won’t. It’s not like I’m going out—I’ve got the blanket.”

Her backside still ached from the fall, making sitting uncomfortable. Shifting to the sofa, she draped the blanket over herself and then commanded, “Hand me the remote.”

Bo Mingyan passed it over, patient and accommodating. “Anything else you need help with?”

Meng Xuran: “I’m thirsty. My big mug’s in the kitchen.”

Bo Mingyan: “Anything else? Think carefully. I’m going to shower soon.”

The smell of burnt joss paper from the cemetery still clung to her clothes, and since she didn’t plan on going out again, Bo Mingyan wanted to change into something fresh.

At the mention of a shower, Meng Xuran’s eyes sparkled. She revived the earlier topic, eagerly promoting her jacuzzi: “Are you sure you don’t want to try it? After how tired you were yesterday—it’s got hydro-jets, bubble streams, super convenient, amazing massage effects! Relaxes muscles, eases fatigue, lifts your mood—”

“Are you selling bathtubs now? Sorry, I can’t afford one.” Bo Mingyan picked up the kettle from the table, noting it was only half-full.

Meng Xuran smoothly switched to salesperson mode: “No worries, dear! Free trial, zero cost, dear! Fully sanitized, guaranteed safe and hygienic, dear~!”

As Bo Mingyan refilled the kettle in the kitchen, the sound of running water drowned out Meng Xuran’s voice—or maybe the chatterbox had finally stopped.

Thinking of Meng Xuran’s exaggerated sales pitch, Bo Mingyan’s lips curled faintly.

For a moment, she’d almost been convinced. After today’s events, soaking in water did sound appealing—a way to dilute the overwhelming emotions swirling inside her.

But even if it was sanitized, sharing a bathtub felt too intimate.

The thought made her smile fade. Carrying the refilled kettle, the cake, and Meng Xuran’s mug back to the living room, she found Meng Xuran asking again, “Made up your mind, dear~?”

“Thanks, but no.” Glancing at the massage chair nearby, Bo Mingyan asked, “Mind if I use your massage chair?”

Pushing further about the bath might backfire, so Meng Xuran reluctantly gave up. She glanced at the chair and agreed generously, “Sure, go ahead. I’ll show you how to use it.”

“Not now. I’ll shower first.” Bo Mingyan set the cake down, placed the kettle on its base, and turned it on. “Want me to cut the cake for you?”

“No, I’ll do it later.” Meng Xuran’s lips quirked slightly as she eyed the cake box.

Bo Mingyan, worried she might struggle, opened it anyway. “The cake’s cost is added to what I owe you for the kitchenware.”

Meng Xuran’s smile dropped. Grumbling, she muttered, “Couldn’t you just say it’s a treat and sneak it into the tab?”

To Meng Xuran, this was trivial. She cared more about enjoyment than costs. She ate Bo Mingyan’s cooking daily, concerned only with taste, never asking about grocery expenses. Yet Bo Mingyan showed her the accounts every week.

If things had been different—if Bo Mingyan’s father hadn’t fallen ill, if his company hadn’t collapsed, if she hadn’t spent years drifting alone—maybe they’d have been the same. But there were no “ifs.” Before even reaching adulthood, Bo Mingyan had seen the ugliest sides of human nature under financial strain.

She didn’t want money to one day shatter their impressions of each other.

“Sneaking it in would be cheating you. If I were treating you…” Bo Mingyan paused. “Honestly, I can’t afford to right now.”

On the way back, she’d recalculated her debts and transferred the remaining sum to Lin Huixin in one go—a reckless move that left her broke.

A small cake cost 458 yuan. In her current state, that was a luxury.

Under the warm glow of the chandelier, Bo Mingyan bent over, dismantling the cake’s packaging. Half her face was shadowed, the other half softened by light, the chain on her glasses swaying gently.

Her expression was neutral, yet it inexplicably made Meng Xuran’s chest ache.

After setting up the cake, Bo Mingyan glanced over and saw the sorrow in Meng Xuran’s eyes. Remembering how generous Meng Xuran had always been—while she’d given nothing in return—her heart softened. “Next time, I’ll treat you.”

Meng Xuran looked away, murmuring absently, “Sure.”

She was happy Bo Mingyan offered, but her heart still felt heavy. Hugging a pillow, she pulled out her phone and typed, “Just in case you’re teasing me, this one’s on me. This bakery’s cakes are amazing—not too sweet. We’ll share it after your shower and massage.”

Before Bo Mingyan could react, her phone buzzed. She pulled it out and nearly choked—Meng Xuran had sent her 520 yuan.

“You already said to add it to the tab. And this is too much.”

“It’s not. Don’t you dare send it back—transferring back and forth is annoying. The extra is the delivery fee. Weren’t you the one always nitpicking accounts?” Meng Xuran tossed her phone aside, tilting her chin up with a smirk. “Remember, next time’s on you. No backing out, cheapskate~”

Same as always, proud and willful.

Yet something inside Bo Mingyan twinged.

The surface remained icy, but beneath, cracks were slowly spreading.

She stared at Meng Xuran for a long moment before replying, “Got it, generous one. Anything else you need?”

“Nope~” Meng Xuran’s mood lifted, her voice lilting like Xiao Man’s perky tail.

Bo Mingyan grabbed her loungewear and headed to the shower. As she set her phone down, she remembered Meng Xuran’s “transferring back and forth is annoying” and disabled transfers on the bank card linked to Lin Huixin, also blocking her on Alipay.

Twenty minutes later, freshly showered, Bo Mingyan stood at the sink blow-drying her hair. Checking her phone, she saw a message from Lin Huixin sent over ten minutes ago.

Lin Huixin had returned all the money Bo Mingyan had sent her over the years—from part-time jobs, her salary—via WeChat.

Lin Huixin: “I admit I haven’t been there for you all these years, didn’t give you enough care or emotional support. But I had my reasons. You’re my flesh and bl00d, the child I carried for ten months. If I really didn’t care, why would I have paid for your education? I don’t need this money. Keep it and take care of yourself.”

The transfer would auto-refund if unclaimed. Bo Mingyan skimmed it, exited WeChat, and set her phone aside.

Staring into the fogged-up mirror, the hum of the blow-dryer filling her ears, she closed her eyes.

Turning it off, she put it away and deleted Lin Huixin’s chat.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Meng Xuran lounged on the sofa, flipping through channels until she landed on a fashion show.

The faint scent of Bo Mingyan’s shower gel lingered in the air. Slowly, the models on screen morphed into a different face in her mind.

Xiao Man leaped onto the sofa, nuzzling into her lap with a series of meows.

Meng Xuran blinked, snapping out of her daydream. She ruffled the cat’s head, chiding, “Chatty cat. So noisy.”

Xiao Man, offended, flicked her fluffy tail against Meng Xuran’s arm. Watching it, Meng Xuran recalled a sketch she’d drawn months ago—a woman’s bare back, half-obscured by a cat’s tail, alluringly ambiguous.

In the bathroom, Bo Mingyan dried her hair and checked her phone.

Meng Xuran logged into Weibo on her alt account, pulling up the sketch.

At the last second before posting, she hesitated.

Although no one follows this Weibo, and although this silhouette doesn’t reveal who it is, but… just in case… She wants to show off how beautiful this person is, to declare her secret delight in a hidden corner where no one knows, yet she’s also a little reluctant to share.

Meng Xuran bites her lip, staring at her phone in conflicted admiration for a while, when suddenly, she hears the door open.

Afraid that Bo Mingyan might notice, Meng Xuran hurriedly swipes away the Weibo interface, flings her phone aside in a fluster, and picks up the game console next to her, pretending to play a game.

She’s in such a rush that she doesn’t notice—before swiping away, her thumb had already pressed the “post” button.

Author’s Note:

Bo Mingyan: “Oh~ Not a fever, but a—”
Meng Xuran: “Whatever it is, you’d better come and help me cool off.”