Two Faced Lover - Chapter 43

43: The Heart’s Door

The security guard at the west gate was stretching when he saw Bo Mingyan heading out. “Going out again so late?” he asked warmly.

“Picking someone up.” Bo Mingyan replied without turning back.

The guard watched her go, his imagination running wild before sighing, “Young men these days—making their girlfriends come out late at night to fetch them. No manners at all.”

The “young man” with no manners was currently barefoot, perched on a flower bed. During her business trip, she hadn’t reapplied the ointment to her bruised backside, and the dull ache lingered. In her rush, she hadn’t changed out of her high heels, and now her feet were exhausted.

She sat with her back to the path, facing the embankment, poking at her phone to message the suddenly silent someone:

[Good sister, where are you now?]

When no reply came, Meng Xuran irritably ruffled her hair, then idly plucked a fallen osmanthus flower from the flower bed. Standing on tiptoe on the ledge, she peered into the distance and muttered, “Did she really detour just because I said the gate was broken?!”

The streetlights cast slanted pools of amber light, dividing the long embankment into segments, each filled with small clusters of people—some strolling, some walking dogs, others jogging leisurely.

At the far end, where the light dimmed, Bo Mingyan wove against the flow of pedestrians. Her striking beauty cut through the murky glow, drawing lingering glances from passersby.

Then she turned off the embankment, vanishing into the unlit path like a gust of wind swallowed by the night.

Seeing no sign of her, Meng Xuran grew convinced she’d guessed right. One-handed, she pulled up Bo Mingyan’s contact, about to call—

When Bo Mingyan’s name suddenly flashed on her screen.

Meng Xuran froze, then answered preemptively: “You didn’t actually detour just because I said the gate was broken, did you?!”

As she spoke, a jogger passed in her peripheral vision. She rose on tiptoe again, but one glance confirmed it wasn’t Bo Mingyan. Her shoulders slumped.

“Don’t avoid the south gate—I’m still here! Come get me! Where did you even—”

Her grumbling cut off as the phone transmitted faint, heavy breathing—and footsteps approached from behind.

The sound grew nearer.

In sync with her heartbeat.

Meng Xuran turned.

Bo Mingyan slowed her steps, stopping two paces away before closing the distance.

Having run nonstop, Bo Mingyan’s breaths came light and quick. Her loose knit sweater sleeves were rolled to the elbows, revealing slender arms. Long fingers tapped her phone’s edge, ending the call.

Tilting her head up, she removed her fogged glasses. Smoke-gray eyes met Meng Xuran’s where she stood atop the flower bed:

“Here to take you away.”

A night breeze swept through the trees, shaking golden osmanthus blossoms loose. They swirled around Meng Xuran’s dark hair before dusting Bo Mingyan’s shoulders.

Meng Xuran had often wondered—what would it feel like to be remembered by someone like Bo Mingyan, an iceberg shrouded in mist?

But she could never quite imagine it. That mist might be gentle, but the ice beneath was piercing.

She’d brushed against that frost too many times, each graze chilling her to the bone. It always took ages to warm herself again.

So she kept forgetting—ice eventually melts when held long enough. And by then, even your hands burn.

Meng Xuran leaned down.

Bo Mingyan’s long lashes fluttered as she gazed up, their sudden proximity revealing the teardrop mole beneath Meng Xuran’s eye—

And letting Meng Xuran catch Bo Mingyan’s subtle recoil.

But if she could still radiate heat, this time she’d shine relentlessly on that ice. Meng Xuran blinked at Bo Mingyan, then straightened with a haughty lift of her brow:

“Since you came to get me, I’ll magnanimously forgive making me wait. So? How does it feel having someone wait for your stroll?”

She pinched the osmanthus from Bo Mingyan’s shoulder, carefully depositing it in her palm before presenting it:

“I collected this autumn color while waiting for you~ A gift.”

Standing in the tree’s shadow, Meng Xuran seemed to smile. Her hand pierced the darkness like offered light, pale palm cradling tiny golden blossoms.

Their lingering sweetness filled the air with each breath.

A streetlight flickered.

Bo Mingyan’s heart skipped.

The taste of having someone wait? Autumn hues hiding spring.

She accepted the flowers, curling them in her fist, then eyed Meng Xuran’s bare feet and discarded heels: “Why no shoes?”

Ever vain, Meng Xuran adored slender stilettos—her closet overflowed with them. But such heights grew punishing over time.

“Too tired,” Meng Xuran wiggled her toes. “Almost swollen.”

Bo Mingyan inspected them—slightly puffy, perhaps. Her brow furrowed. “Can you walk?”

“Nope!” Meng Xuran declared decisively.

Bo Mingyan: “…”

For some reason, Meng Xuran seemed oddly thrilled about being incapacitated.

Bo Mingyan’s gaze flicked to Meng Xuran’s waist. “Is…that area still hurt?”

That area means her backside.

“Still aches.” Meng Xuran pouted, “I genuinely can’t walk. Why else would I summon you?”

With a quiet sigh, Bo Mingyan picked up the heels and turned. “Get on.”

Meng Xuran’s eyes lit up. Biting her lip against a grin, she looped her arms around Bo Mingyan’s neck and settled against her back: “Rise—for your carriage!~”

“…” Bo Mingyan loosened her grip in silent warning.

Meng Xuran giggled by her ear, breath warm enough to envelop it entirely: “Sorry, sorry~”

Bo Mingyan tilted her head away, dryly observing, “Apologies flow freely—reformation, never.”

“Don’t expose life’s hardships.” Meng Xuran laughed harder before suddenly asking, “So? Have I lost weight?”

She mock-tightened her hold on Bo Mingyan’s neck: “Your vital points are in my hands—choose your answer wisely.”

“You were never heavy.” Bo Mingyan adjusted her grip, hiking Meng Xuran higher. “Think carefully—who’s holding whom here?”

Jostled, Meng Xuran’s heart leapt. She fell silent.

The path behind the flower beds lacked streetlights, illuminated only faintly by distant apartment windows. Quiet and secluded, flanked by trees and waist-high shrubs, it saw little foot traffic.

Bo Mingyan asked, “Why come back suddenly?”

The weight on her back mumbled, “Just felt like it.”

Bo Mingyan’s brow twitched.

Judging by Hu Jingjing’s text, Meng Xuran knew everything.

So why race back overnight?

That question had filled Bo Mingyan’s mind as she ran here. She didn’t know Meng Xuran’s reason—but some small part of her hopes.

Hoped Meng Xuran would explain that night.

Yet since childhood, aside from her father, no one had ever cared about her feelings or thoughts enough to explain even trivial matters.

Bo Mingyan had grown accustomed—not asking, not caring.

But this time, strangely, she couldn’t let it go.

After a beat, she cut to the chase: “On the day of the hottest day in July, I found a drunken shrimp at the door of Lu Yo’s Bar and took her in for one night. The next day, I ran into her at work. The drunken shrimp seemed to have drunk too much to remember anything. But today I learned that the drunken shrimp was known as the one who could drink a thousand cups without getting drunk.”

Meng Xuran shifted, putting slight distance between them. “Maybe…the shrimp didn’t black out from drinking,” she offered weakly. “But from exhaustion.”

“…”

Bo Mingyan briefly considered dropping her.

This excuse proved Meng Xuran remembered—yet still pretended otherwise.

Silence stretched between them.

Meng Xuran gnawed her lip, chagrined. She didn’t need to see Bo Mingyan’s face to know—ice had reclaimed it.

“It’s embarrassing,” she said at last, voice small and guileless.

Wind from the embankment rustled the foliage flanking the path.

Bo Mingyan glanced sideways—past the swaying leaves, their merged shadow—before facing forward again.

Meng Xuran resettled against her, arms loosely looped around Bo Mingyan’s neck, chin propped on her shoulder.

Soft hair spilled over Bo Mingyan’s back like a fox’s brush.

“The supposedly unshakable drunk got plastered one night. Someone kindly took her home, but she—” Meng Xuran turned, breath grazing Bo Mingyan’s ear— “exploited her intoxication. Leveraged her beauty! Saw how pretty her rescuer was…”

Her whisper turned playful: “And molested her.”

The words nipped like teeth. Bo Mingyan’s grip reflexively tightened—right on Meng Xuran’s inner thigh.

“Yah!” Meng Xuran squirmed. “Is this payback? Molesting me back?”

“…Not everyone shares your hobbies.”

Bo Mingyan paused, then asked against her better judgment: “Do you…do that to every attractive person when drunk?”

“My standards are very high,” Meng Xuran studied Bo Mingyan’s profile. No one compares to you, she thought.

“Should I feel honored then?” Bo Mingyan scoffed, pinching her again.

“Hey!” Heat rushed from her thigh to her skull. Meng Xuran’s lashes fluttered as she wet her lips. “Are you…asking me to take responsibility?”

Say yes, she willed. Even as a joke—and I’ll swear to shoulder it for life.

Under the security guard’s curious stare, Bo Mingyan carried Meng Xuran through the gates without faltering.

Brighter lights within the complex filtered through leaves, scattering dappled shadows.

Bo Mingyan stepped leisurely across the patches, treading her own silhouette: “No.”

Meng Xuran went still. She shifted—leaning away, then close—testing the space between them.

Bo Mingyan’s head turned slightly, barely perceptible, before facing forward again.

Only at the elevator lobby did Meng Xuran steady herself enough to speak: “Tired? You can put me down.”

“It’s fine,” Bo Mingyan said. “Stop squirming.”

Meng Xuran wilted. “Oh.”

At their door, Bo Mingyan still didn’t set her down, citing dirty, cold tiles. One-armed, she fished out keys—

Meng Xuran plucked them from her hand to unlock the door.

As the key turned, she murmured, “I came back…because I was afraid you’d ignore me.”

“Some explanations need doing face-to-face.”

“See how sincere I am? We’re still good friends, right?”

“You won’t suddenly freeze me out, right?”

The lock clicked open. Bo Mingyan couldn’t tell—

Had Meng Xuran opened the front door?

Or the one to her heart?

“I won’t ignore you,” Bo Mingyan said.

“Promise?” Meng Xuran pressed. “Or I’ll…cry so hard your ears ache!”

Light spilled from the always-lit apartment as Bo Mingyan’s laughter melted into it:

“I promise.”