Two Faced Lover - Chapter 39

39: Surveillance

Meng Xuran closed her eyes. Having just woken up on an empty stomach, her head throbbed dully with a faint ache, but she wasn’t so out of it that she couldn’t think straight. She was awake now, not dreaming, and this was indeed her own room. Yet, she was certain she had fallen asleep on the sofa.

Had she gotten up to use the bathroom and walked back to her room without realizing it?

No—she would have remembered going to the bathroom. She hadn’t even dreamed about it.

The sky had cleared. Even with both layers of curtains drawn over the floor-to-ceiling windows, slivers of sunlight still seeped into the room, stretching from the floor to the bed, warming her face.

In Nanquan City, midday temperatures in early October could sometimes rival those of summer.

Meng Xuran stretched out one leg, hugging the blanket as she curled onto her side. A faint twinge of pain radiated from her right buttock, but she paid it no mind. She closed her eyes again, intending to doze a little longer, when a sudden realization struck her—something felt off. Her usual air-conditioning blanket was smooth, but the texture under her leg now was fuzzy.

Xiao Man’s doing?

She lowered her head to look—it was the small fleece throw from the sofa.

Meng Xuran abruptly sat up, only to wince as a sharp pain shot through her backside. Gritting her teeth, she waited for the discomfort to fade before tossing the blanket aside, slipping into her slippers, and limping out of the room.

Faint noises came from the kitchen. Pushing the door open, Meng Xuran saw Bo Mingyan’s busy figure bathed in sunlight, her silhouette softened by a warm glow. She was still wearing the same modal cotton loungewear from the night before, an apron tied around her waist, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing slender, fair forearms.

A small, faint mole rested on the prominent bone of her wrist, just like the one on her earlobe—tiny, barely there, appearing and disappearing with her swift movements.

Meng Xuran’s eyelids twitched slightly.

From this distance, she shouldn’t have been able to see those two moles on Bo Mingyan’s wrist and earlobe.

“Awake?” Bo Mingyan asked without turning around, having heard the door open. “Have you washed up yet?”

“No.” Meng Xuran replied. “I’ll do it later.”

“The food will be ready soon.” Bo Mingyan said, tossing vegetables into the pan.

Sunlight streamed through the window, mingling with the rising steam, filling the kitchen with the comforting aroma of home-cooked food.

It was like a scene from a dream.

Meng Xuran stared, mesmerized.

Noticing that Meng Xuran was still standing there motionless, Bo Mingyan glanced over her shoulder. Assuming she was eyeing the food, she said, “Before you fell asleep, you reminded me you were on a diet and wouldn’t eat meat, so I didn’t make any meat dishes today.”

Meng Xuran snapped out of her daze and let out an indifferent “Oh.” She vaguely remembered that reminder—after Bo Mingyan had joked about not being able to afford cake for her, Meng Xuran had picked up on her financial struggles and made a mental note of it.

Half-asleep and barely able to keep her eyes open, she had been afraid she’d forget by morning, so she kept mumbling to Bo Mingyan while curled up on the sofa, “I’m on a diet, don’t cook meat for me, okay?” Later, Bo Mingyan had leaned in closer, as if struggling to hear her.

At the time, the overhead light had been dimmed to a soft, ambiguous glow, casting Bo Mingyan’s face in a vintage film-like filter under its golden hue.

And then what happened? Meng Xuran frowned, racking her brain but failing to recall. After a brief hesitation, she turned to Bo Mingyan and finally voiced the question nagging at her:

“I remember falling asleep on the sofa last night, so how did I end up in my room when I woke up? Do you know how I got back? Can you jog my memory?”

Bo Mingyan’s hands paused almost imperceptibly as she stir-fried. “All I remember is how you fell asleep on the sofa. Do you need me to remind you of that?”

“…” Meng Xuran propped her elbow on the nearby snack rack and rubbed her forehead.

They had stayed up past four in the morning, and by then, she had been so exhausted she could barely tell east from west. She hadn’t even cared about the “Meng Jiaojiao” bet anymore, figuring that as long as she persisted, there’d be plenty of chances in the future to make Bo Mingyan call her name endlessly.

Nothing had been more important than sleep.

She had clung to the sofa like a stubborn piece of adhesive tape, refusing to budge even if the heavens themselves had demanded it.

Bo Mingyan glanced sideways at Meng Xuran, faintly amused. Last night, this person had pulled out every trick in the book—whining, tantrums, even coaxing—just to stay on the sofa. Now, she was acting embarrassed?

“If I didn’t know you were just tired, I’d have thought you were drunk and throwing a tantrum.” Bo Mingyan teased.

Meng Xuran said, “How about we both just forget it happened?”

Bo Mingyan let out a soft chuckle. “That’s asking too much.”

“…” Meng Xuran stuck her tongue out at Bo Mingyan’s back, then turned and grabbed the doorknob to leave. But just as she pressed down, she released it again and asked, unable to resist, “Are you sure you don’t know how I got back to my room?”

“I’ve seen people black out from drinking, but this is the first time I’ve met someone who blacks out from sleeping.” Bo Mingyan remarked.

Meng Xuran pursed her lips and retorted, “I’ve seen people pass out so hard they forget things, but I’ve never seen anyone black out from drinking.”

“…You’ve never seen anyone black out from drinking?” Bo Mingyan turned her head slightly, her deep gaze locking onto Meng Xuran as she enunciated each word slowly.

Their eyes met.

Meng Xuran’s throat bobbed. She straightened her back and declared with absolute conviction, “Never seen it.”

Bo Mingyan turned her face away, speechless.

“So, do you know how I got back to my room or not?” Meng Xuran pressed.

Instead of answering, Bo Mingyan asked, “You really don’t remember anything?”

“It’s not like I remember nothing,” Meng Xuran said, rolling her eyes before putting on a serious face and lying through her teeth. “I remember you—”

She dragged out the last word, shifting her position slightly to get a better look at Bo Mingyan’s expression. But just as she had the perfect angle, Bo Mingyan turned off the stove, bent down to pull plates from the cupboard, and her shoulder-length hair cascaded over one side of her face, perfectly obscuring her profile.

“Hmm?” Bo Mingyan ran her fingertips over the edge of a plate, feigning nonchalance. “Remember what about me?”

Meng Xuran tapped her chin as if struggling to recall. “Let me think~”

Bo Mingyan plated the stir-fry and started on the next dish, her tone flat. “You can think while you wash up.”

But then, suddenly, Meng Xuran gasped.

Bo Mingyan’s hand jerked in surprise, adding too much seasoning. She turned her head just in time to catch the sly glint in Meng Xuran’s eyes—like a fox on the verge of pulling off a scheme. Raising an eyebrow, Bo Mingyan cut in, “If it’s that hard to remember, then don’t bother. You walked back by yourself.”

The accusation and probing question died in Meng Xuran’s throat, stuck there, unresolved.

Meng Xuran’s mouth hung open, her expression frozen. After a long pause, she finally closed it. She wasn’t entirely convinced. “Seriously? If I walked back, how come I don’t remember any of it?”

“You wouldn’t remember if you flew back either.” Bo Mingyan said dryly. “Considering you were dead to the world.”

“…” Meng Xuran sucked in a sharp breath, exhaled slowly through her nose, then let out a cold laugh before yanking the door open and storming out.

Hobbling out of the kitchen, Meng Xuran made her way to the bathroom to wash up. As she brushed her teeth in front of the mirror, she racked her brain, replaying the events of last night in her head.

“This is ridiculous. I’ve never blacked out like this, even when drunk,” she mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Meow~” Xiao Man, having slipped into the room unnoticed, leaped onto the sink and began grooming her paws—clearly well-fed and here to keep her human company.

Meng Xuran side-eyed the cat, her movements slowing as she applied toner. Then it hit her—because of her busy work schedule, frequent business trips, and overtime, she had installed a surveillance camera in the living room to keep an eye on Xiao Man.

She had turned it on a couple of days ago when she went ice-skating and had never switched it off.

Meng Xuran quickly grabbed her phone, logged into the monitoring app, and pulled up the footage from around 4 a.m.

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Bo Mingyan added water to the pan, covered it, and let the dish simmer. As steam curled out from the vent in the lid, her thoughts drifted back to seven hours earlier.

They had finally three-starred the game level. Just as Bo Mingyan set down the controller and stretched her stiff shoulders, a warm body crashed into her. A damp patch spread over her neck as Meng Xuran whimpered weakly into her ear, “Ughhh, finally. That was way too hard. I never want to touch this game again.”

Bo Mingyan chuckled softly and let her cling for a moment before nudging her away. “Go to bed.”

“Don’t wanna move. I’m sleeping right here.” Meng Xuran curled up on the sofa, drowsy but still managing to mumble, “Starting tomorrow, no more meat, okay? I’m on a diet.”

It was already autumn. Worried she might catch a chill, Bo Mingyan patted her shoulder. “Go sleep in your room.”

Half-asleep, Meng Xuran swatted her hand away irritably. “Ugh, so annoying. I’m staying here. Stop bothering me.”

Bo Mingyan watched her for a long moment before turning to leave. But as she reached the aquarium wall, a sneeze from the sofa made her pause.

A beat later, she returned, trying again to coax Meng Xuran back to her room. In response, Meng Xuran let out a whine, burrowed deeper into the sofa, and clung to the armrest like her life depended on it.

Her behavior, in that instant, reminded Bo Mingyan of the red fox she’d seen in England—how it would make similar noises when petted in its sleep.

So spoiled.

“Be good, Meng Jiaojiao.” Bo Mingyan murmured, ruffling her hair.

But Meng Xuran’s brows only furrowed tighter. Her lips parted slightly, whispering something too faint to catch. Bo Mingyan crouched down, leaning in until she could finally make out the weak, tearful plea.

“Don’t wanna be good… don’t… let me out… Sister… save me…”

Bo Mingyan’s heart twisted violently. When she looked up, Meng Xuran’s nose was flushed red, her half-lidded eyes glazed and unfocused, as if still trapped in a dream. A single tear slipped from her lashes, disappearing into the fabric of the sofa.

It seeped into Bo Mingyan’s chest, rippling through her, leaving her unsettled long after.

Back in the present, as the surveillance footage played up to this point, Meng Xuran suddenly remembered the nightmare she’d been having at that moment. She set her phone down, bracing herself against the sink, gasping like a drowning person finally breaking the surface.

It took her a while to steady herself. When she finally picked her phone back up, she fast-forwarded through the footage.

On screen, Bo Mingyan knelt beside the sofa, watching her quietly before brushing a gentle hand over her face.

Then, that same hand slid beneath her neck, while the other hooked under her bent knees.

In one smooth motion, Bo Mingyan lifted her into a bridal carry.

And just like that—Meng Xuran’s heart was swept off its feet too.