Two Faced Lover - Chapter 42

42: Return

“Don’t cry! I’ll buy you something delicious when you get back! Mhm, mhm, bye.” Hu Jingjing hung up the phone, wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, and was about to pour herself a glass of water when she spotted Bo Mingyan at the door. “Huh? Sister Mingyan.”

“Yeah.” Bo Mingyan walked into the break room, grabbed a paper cup, and filled it at the water dispenser, feigning nonchalance. “I overheard your call when I came in. Who was crying? Little Meng?”

Hu Jingjing didn’t think much of it and spilled everything: “Lu Shan said they were negotiating discounts with suppliers and got forced to drink a ton at dinner. The other side was deliberately making things difficult—it was infuriating. Lu Shan saw Little Meng’s eyes turn red. Then, back at the hotel, Lu Shan waited outside Little Meng’s door because she was worried and thought she heard crying.”

“Must be the cold wind.”

Bo Mingyan replayed Meng Xuran’s voice in her mind—nasal and muffled, like a thick wad of cotton. It wasn’t the cold wind.

It was tears.

Bo Mingyan had seen Meng Xuran cry before. More than once.

Meng Xuran was delicate. She cried from period cramps, from food she didn’t like, from older employees at the company who acted entitled, from losing video games…

Anything could open the floodgates of her tears.

Meng Xuran, who had once boldly declared “some people are just born with low tear thresholds” never hid her tears in front of Bo Mingyan.

Sometimes, she even used them to manipulate her.

But strangely, this person who had always been so open about her emotions in front of Bo Mingyan was suddenly hiding them.

Why?

Because as the backbone of Moment, she had to stand tall and steady, projecting unshakable strength to reassure everyone? Because she couldn’t show vulnerability, so she’d learned to put on a brave face these past few days?

Bo Mingyan suddenly felt like she was the one who’d been force-fed alcohol—ice-cold beer, chilling her chest while her bl00d and head burned.

At work, Meng Xuran always appeared calm, decisive, and methodical. She made everyone at the company believe that as long as Little Meng was around, nothing was a problem—everything could be solved.

So much so that everyone forgot she was just a girl in her early twenties.

But Bo Mingyan had always considered herself separate from “everyone.” She’d long since seen Meng Xuran’s hidden side and remembered her fragility.

Now, Meng Xuran was putting on a brave face for her too.

It made Bo Mingyan feel like she’d been lumped in with “everyone.”

No different from the rest.

This realization inexplicably irritated her.

So Bo Mingyan tried to think of other reasons.

But what else could it be?

Just then, Hu Jingjing sighed beside her: “I feel so bad for Little Meng. Lu Shan said her alcohol tolerance was practiced. How much must she have gone through to build that up?”

Bo Mingyan froze.

Hu Jingjing kept rambling: “I wonder if someone who ‘never gets drunk’ still feels awful after drinking so much. One bottle is enough to wreck me—my stomach churns like crazy. Little Meng must be suffering too. Ugh, I just can’t picture her crying.”

Then Hu Jingjing’s eyes flicked to Bo Mingyan. To her, Meng Xuran’s demeanor was as unreadable as Bo Mingyan’s face.

What would an ice sculpture look like when it cried?

“Sister Mingyan? What are you thinking about?” Hu Jingjing waved a hand in front of Bo Mingyan’s face.

Bo Mingyan snapped back to reality, startled, her shoulders tensing before relaxing again. “Nothing.”

Her tone was flat, giving nothing away, but the rim of the paper cup in her hand crumpled under her grip.

Hu Jingjing gave her a skeptical look but didn’t press further.

Bo Mingyan really wasn’t thinking about anything. She’d just remembered the night she took Meng Xuran home.

And then, when it occurred to her that Meng Xuran might not have been drunk at all, her mind went blank.

Subconsciously, she didn’t want to overanalyze Meng Xuran.

On the way back to their desks, Bo Mingyan warned Hu Jingjing: “Don’t spread what happened with Little Meng.”

“Oh! Right! I won’t!” Hu Jingjing nodded frantically, then mumbled, “I just didn’t expect you to overhear the call.”

Bo Mingyan shot her a look. “Next time, don’t take calls at the office. What if it wasn’t me who walked in?”

Hu Jingjing gasped, suddenly unsure if she’d been too loud earlier—if anyone else had passed by and heard her before Bo Mingyan.

Panicked, she fidgeted until she got home and saw a text from Lu Shan sent twenty minutes ago:

63, don’t let anyone know Little Meng cried.

Hu Jingjing instantly became a frantic ant on a hot pan. She called Lu Shan, blurting as soon as the line connected: “Lu Shan! I-I-I took the call in the break room thinking no one was there, but Sister Mingyan came in and heard everything! I don’t know if anyone else did—what do I do?!”

“Heard what?”

The voice on the other end was clear and cool, like a babbling brook.

Not Lu Shan’s voice.

Meng Xuran’s.

Hu Jingjing’s soul left her body.

WHAT IS HAPPENING?!

Ten minutes earlier:

The shower in Lu Shan’s room wasn’t producing hot water, so she had no choice but to go to Meng Xuran’s suite. Before showering, she left her phone on the coffee table next to Meng Xuran’s.

When Hu Jingjing called, Lu Shan was in the shower. Meng Xuran, tipsy and feeling unwell, was curled up on the sofa dozing. She’d sent Bo Mingyan a string of messages but hadn’t gotten a reply yet.

So when the phone rang, Meng Xuran grabbed it without looking.

Before she could even say “Hello?”, the other end unleashed a torrent of words.

And then, at the critical moment—silence.

The alcohol’s burn flared up, sending spasms of pain through her nerves. Meng Xuran sat up, rubbing her temples, and demanded coldly: “Speak.”

“I-I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” Hu Jingjing nearly threw her phone. Her mind was mush, her words a jumbled mess. “I said I heard about you getting forced to drink, and even though you have a high tolerance, you cried—wait, no, it was maybe crying—”

“…Yeah.”

Hu Jingjing stared blankly at her phone. The screen went black. Meng Xuran had hung up.

Right before disconnecting, Hu Jingjing thought she heard Meng Xuran curse—”Fck” or maybe “Damn.”

Hu Jingjing wanted to cry.

The moment Lu Shan stepped out of the shower, Meng Xuran said: “Book me the earliest flight to Nanquan City.”

“Going back now? But we have to visit Xinghua Fabric Factory tomorrow afternoon.” Lu Shan reminded her.

The round trip would take hours!

“So book a return ticket for tomorrow. I’ll go alone. You’ll pick me up later. Pack my suitcase for me—here’s the keycard. You can sleep here tonight.” Meng Xuran pocketed her phone and stood. “Hurry up and book it. Send me the details once it’s done.”

“Boss, it’s not safe at night. I’ll go with you—” Lu Shan scrambled after her.

The door slammed in response. Lu Shan blinked at it, then turned back to the coffee table to grab her phone and book the tickets. That’s when she saw the call log.

By the time Lu Shan finished booking and called Hu Jingjing to sort things out, it was over three hours later.

Hu Jingjing only remembered to contact Bo Mingyan after the fact.

Bo Mingyan had been keeping busy since getting home, mechanically completing the tasks Meng Xuran had asked her to remember.

The apartment felt stifling. Everything reminded her of Meng Xuran, sending her spiraling into the same questions: Why didn’t Meng Xuran want to tell her about crying? Why had she pretended to be drunk that night when she could hold her liquor?

Unable to figure it out, she stopped trying. She went downstairs to take out the trash and joined the evening crowd strolling along the embankment.

Maybe it was the stubbornness of “if she won’t talk, I won’t ask,” but Bo Mingyan left her phone behind.

She didn’t know how long she walked before heading back toward the south gate of the complex. The gate’s lock was broken, forcing her to circle around to the west entrance.

Back home, Bo Mingyan leisurely poured herself a glass of water and settled on the sofa.

Her phone on the coffee table lit up silently.

Bo Mingyan leaned over to pick it up. The person who refused to speak up had sent messages.

Difficult to handle: Hey…
Difficult to handle: Old Bo?
Difficult to handle: Bo Mingyan!
Difficult to handle: Bo Manman!!

Bo Mingyan: …I’m here.

Difficult to handle: Don’t ignore meeeee [cry][cry][cry]

The last two messages appeared simultaneously. Bo Mingyan blinked. When had she ignored her? She scrolled up.

Meng Xuran had been messaging her since she got home—a whole string of them.

Difficult to handle: So bored. My stomach hurts—must be the awful food!
Difficult to handle: Manman, I want corn and pork rib soup [wronged]
Difficult to handle: Are you off work yet?
Difficult to handle: The boss isn’t even here—no need to work so hard!
Difficult to handle: Take advantage and leave on time! Wait till I get back… hmph~
Difficult to handle: What are you doing?

Then, a three-hour gap.

Bo Mingyan replied to the last message from three hours ago: Walking along the embankment.

Difficult to handle: ???

Bo Mingyan: You asked what I was doing.

Difficult to handle: Oh.
Difficult to handle: I thought… you were ignoring me.

Bo Mingyan raised an eyebrow, typing slowly: Why would you think that?

Silence. After a long pause, Meng Xuran deflected: You went walking at night?!

Bo Mingyan: Problem?

Difficult to handle: No…
Difficult to handle: Which gate did you go out from?

The complex was large, with four gates. The embankment connected the west and south gates—if you left from the west, you’d return from the south, and vice versa.

Bo Mingyan gripped her phone, momentarily puzzled, but answered honestly: West gate.

The screen went dark. Bo Mingyan frowned, a vague sense of unease creeping in—but the thought that followed was too absurd.

Xiaoman suddenly leaped onto the sofa and meowed at her.

Bo Mingyan’s phone lit up again. She looked down—a text from Hu Jingjing.

A long, dense paragraph. Her eyes landed on the last line:

Lu Shan said Little Meng took a flight back tonight.

At the same time, two new WeChat messages popped up.

Difficult to handle: When are you done walking?
Difficult to handle: …The south gate’s lock is broken. Can’t get through. [exhausted]

Bo Mingyan froze, by the time she processed it, she was already clutching her phone, riding the elevator down, and running into the night.

The wind whistling past her ears sounded just like the pounding of her heart.