Two Faced Lover - Chapter 45

45: Insecurity

The entire drive back, Meng Xuran’s words echoed in Bo Mingyan’s mind.

Parking in the company garage, Bo Mingyan unfastened her seatbelt and leaned back against the headrest, closing her eyes briefly.

“This lifetime’s debts are better paid now.”

When she’d said this, Meng Xuran had been backlit—her features softened in golden light, her expression unreadable. Only the fading curve of her smile had been visible.

But the certainty in her tone had been unmistakable.

Bo Mingyan stepped out of the car, pondering.

What exactly do I owe her, to warrant such words spoken in such a tone?

A woman’s muffled sobs and a man’s impatient voice interrupted her thoughts. Following the sound, she glimpsed a spark of cigarette ember in the dim corner—

A polished oxford shoe crushing it forcefully beneath its heel.

Bo Mingyan averted her gaze, locked the car, and headed toward the elevators.

“Xiao Bo?” A voice called from behind.

She turned to see a middle-aged man in a suit—likely in his forties—approaching with a smile. Bo Mingyan frowned, failing to place him.

“You bought a car?” he asked familiarly.

“A friend’s,” she replied flatly.

“Ah, I thought it didn’t suit your style.”

The watercolor-pink Audi A5 indeed clashed with her usual aesthetic.

The man chuckled. “I waved at you earlier—didn’t you see me?”

Bo Mingyan’s gaze dropped to his brown oxfords. “My apologies. I must have missed it.”

His shoulders relaxed visibly.

In the elevator, they occupied opposite corners until Gu Miao sauntered in with a lazy “Morning.”

As the doors nearly closed, a voice called, “Wait!”

The man—now identified as Design Manager Sun Haoqi—reopened them, revealing He Chencheng’s startled face upon seeing Bo Mingyan.

“Thanks, Manager Sun,” He Chencheng said pointedly, ignoring Bo Mingyan.

Sun checked his watch. “Almost late again.”

“My mom insists on elaborate breakfasts,” He Chencheng said, eyeing Bo Mingyan, who was engrossed in her phone.

Gu Miao smirked. “A mama’s boy’s classic excuse.”

He Chencheng stiffened. “She insists on cooking!”

Another glance at Bo Mingyan—still indifferent.

“All mothers are like that,” Sun mediated.

“Mine passed early. My stepmother raised me,” He Chencheng said pointedly, staring at Bo Mingyan. “Otherwise I wouldn’t know how mothers behave.”

“First time seeing someone advertise their dead mom as small talk,” Gu Miao remarked, following his gaze to Bo Mingyan. “Why keep staring? Interested?”

He Chencheng scoffed. “In her?”

“Average men always say that.”

A soft laugh escaped—not from Bo Mingyan, who was absorbed in Meng Xuran’s messages:

[Difficult to handle]: Tell me when you arrive. Late? Boss will compensate you secretly. [Money emoji]
[Difficult to handle]: Feed the fish, cat, and plants. Make Xiaoman miss me—like in the GIF!

Attached was a meme she’d made from surveillance footage of Bo Mingyan telling Xiaoman: “Remember to miss your mom.”

[Difficult to handle]: So bored~ Found an omelet rice place near the fabric mill. Try the one across from the company at lunch—let’s compare!
[Difficult to handle]: Bo Manman, are you there yet? [Peeking emoji]

Five minutes later:
[Difficult to handle]: Ding~ Clairvoyance activated! Someone’s still driving lil’ pinkie~
[Difficult to handle]: You look adorably mismatched in it. Know what makes contrast beautiful? [Mystery emoji]
[Difficult to handle]: Look! Airplane! Piu~ Gone.

A video of a plane taking off followed.

[Difficult to handle]: My turn to fly~
[Difficult to handle]: Use that perfume I gave you. Don’t worry—I won’t hold back either. If my bottle empties faster, no crying! [Cute emoji]
[Difficult to handle]: But don’t overuse it. Expensive.

This last message drew a laugh from Bo Mingyan—misinterpreted by He Chencheng as mockery.

Exiting the elevator, Bo Mingyan sprayed a hint of Meng Xuran’s gifted perfume on her wrist.

Gu Miao immediately reported to Meng Xuran:
“Your ‘white moonlight’ might be in love! She’s grinning at her phone and wearing perfume—someone’s stealing your girl!”

Landing, Meng Xuran first replied to Bo Mingyan, then clarified to Gu Miao with amusement.

Gu Miao responded with a thumbs-up:
“Smooth.”

Meanwhile, Bo Mingyan messaged:
“I’m considering grape-patterned green luo silk for Gu Yuwei’s sacrificial scene in Assassination, paired with hand-knitted jasmine bead shawls. Thoughts?”

Meng Xuran called instantly.

“Do you like my perfume?” she asked instead of answering.

Bo Mingyan inhaled—the initial grape note had blossomed into jasmine, sweet yet crisp, now settling into musky warmth reminiscent of fox fur against skin.

“…Yes.”

Sunday

Bo Mingyan lazed in bed until noon before visiting Lu Yo’s bar.

“Who gifted the piano?” she asked, testing the keys.

Lu Yo blinked. “How’d you know it’s a gift?”

“You’d have bought one yourself if you could afford it.”

They’d taken childhood lessons together—Bo Mingyan for practicality, Lu Yo for passion. Both abandoned it eventually.

An alarm chimed.

“Lunch reminder for the princess?” Lu Yo teased as Bo Mingyan opened a food delivery app.

“Meng Xuran.”

“Princess~” Lu Yo smirked. “Quite the pet name. Alarm-set meals? Since when do you pamper little sisters?”

Bo Mingyan explained how Meng Xuran, overwhelmed by work trips, kept missing meals until only undesirable options remained—then sent crying emoji avalanches.

Once, a voice message had contained actual sniffles. The next day, Bo Mingyan somehow procured Meng Xuran’s address through her assistant and ordered food.

“Your dynamic resembles dating.” Lu Yo observed.

Bo Mingyan remained silent over her takeout container.

“Manman,” Lu Yo pressed, “do you like her?”

A pause.

“…I suppose.”

Somewhere along the way, still waters had begun simmering.

“Then pursue her! You’re overdue for romance.”

“But someone like her deserves happiness in love,” Bo Mingyan said softly.

Someone like Meng Xuran should be cherished by an equally radiant sun—not a flower withering in mud.

Lu Yo frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I visited my mother at my father’s grave recently.”

Lu Yo—aware of Bo Mingyan’s estranged relationship with her mother—stilled.

“After Dad died, I thought we’d rely on each other,” Bo Mingyan continued evenly. “I studied hard, worked tirelessly—I wanted to give her happiness. Instead, I became an obstacle to it.”

“Manman,” Lu Yo said firmly, “her choice reflects her failures, not yours. You’re beautiful, capable, successful—you can make someone happy.”

“But I have nothing. I gave all my savings to repay her ‘raising fees.’ No money, no property, no car—” Bo Mingyan’s hands clenched. “I hesitate over forty-yuan takeout for Meng Xuran.”

Meng Xuran noticed, of course—sending “bonuses” disguised as praise for good meal choices. Each red packet was both balm and salt—

Proof of her inadequacy.

At 28, she owned nothing. At 23, Meng Xuran blazed like midsummer.

Yet still, the withered flower yearned toward the sun.