Two Faced Lover - Chapter 49

49: Trouble

The next morning, Bo Mingyan jolted awake in a panic.

There were still over forty minutes before her weekday alarm was set to go off. The window hadn’t been shut completely, and the wind whistled through the gap, seeping into the room. Sitting dazedly at the head of the bed, Bo Mingyan felt yesterday’s memories surge over her like a rising tide.

She had accepted an invitation to Lu Yo’s bar, talked a lot, drank some alcohol, and Lu Yo had sent her home.

Then, in a haze between reality and illusion, as if in a dream, after returning home, Meng Xuran seemed to have video-called her. They had talked about so many things, topics different from their usual conversations.

—“Don’t look at me like that.”

—“Hah… Mmm… Manman—”

The low, panting breaths, the drawn-out tone—it was Meng Xuran’s unique voice, like a murmuring stream, brushing against her ears.

The sensations from that moment flooded back with startling clarity. The ambiguity had stretched into fine threads, tangling into the sweetest cotton candy, filling her entire heart.

Bo Mingyan’s mind went blank for a second, then burst like a balloon—pop—leaving her whole body burning. Flustered, she grabbed her phone and scrolled through her chat history with Meng Xuran.

The last message was still from noon the day before, with Meng Xuran commenting on the takeout she had ordered.

It was just a dream…

Bo Mingyan let out a sigh of relief, but a strange feeling welled up inside her.

Part of her was relieved it had all been a dream, while another part regretted that it was only a dream.

If it hadn’t been a dream, and Meng Xuran had been willing to moan like that for her, could it have meant that Meng Xuran also had feelings for her?

But if it hadn’t been a dream, how would they have faced each other afterward?

Her head throbbed dully, as if filled with lead, and her empty stomach burned uncomfortably.

Pushing aside her thoughts, Bo Mingyan raked a hand through her hair and glanced down.

Her clothes had been changed, but her hair hadn’t been washed. She got up to take a shower.

Standing under the spray with her eyes closed, fragmented memories dripped down like water droplets from her hair.

Bo Mingyan saw herself stepping out of the shower naked, picking up her phone, and asking Meng Xuran if she had hung up the video call. Meng Xuran, blushing, had softly reminded her, “Manman, remember to delete the recording…”

“Why do I have to delete it?”

At that time, Meng Xuran’s eyes had darkened, her meaningful gaze slowly lifting to meet Bo Mingyan’s. Her pink tongue had slid over her soft lips as she said, “I’ve already seen your little buns. If you don’t delete it, you’ll definitely die of embarrassment later. What if you stop talking to me because of it?”

“I wouldn’t stop talking to you.” Bo Mingyan had tilted her head and asked, “Did they look good? The little buns… Are they small?”

Meng Xuran’s face had turned as red as a ripe apple. “N-no, they’re not small.”

At this point, Bo Mingyan could no longer tell whether it had been a dream or reality.

She wanted to drown herself in the shower.

After thirty minutes of attempting self-immersion, Bo Mingyan stepped out of the bathroom and dried her hair. With time to spare, she made herself a bowl of oatmeal to soothe her stomach, then changed her bedsheets, trying to keep herself busy and her mind blank.

But just as she turned off her original alarm, Meng Xuran called.

Bo Mingyan stared at the nickname [Schrödinger] flashing on her screen, her mind suddenly replaying the scene where she had meowed at Meng Xuran.

She had planned to let the call ring until it disconnected on its own, but her fingers slipped, and she accidentally answered.

“Are you up?” Meng Xuran’s voice flowed into her ears like a clear mountain spring—slow, deliberate, and carrying a faint chill that made her hair stand on end.

Bo Mingyan tensed and let out a stiff “Mmm,” forcing herself to sound calm as she asked, “What’s up?”

“I ordered you breakfast,” Meng Xuran paused briefly to check the delivery time, “It should arrive in about five or six minutes.”

Bo Mingyan froze.

Meng Xuran continued, “I figured your stomach would be upset after drinking, so I got you some congee…”

Her words abruptly cut off.

Bo Mingyan thought there was more, but after waiting over ten seconds, she realized Meng Xuran had finished speaking. Without overthinking the pause, she asked, “How did you know I drank?”

“You don’t remember?” Meng Xuran drawled, her tone dripping with implication.

Bo Mingyan’s grip on her phone tightened involuntarily, her heart pounding nervously. “Did I… did I video-call you… and say something?”

Her ears burned as she anxiously waited for the next words—would they cool her down or set her even more aflame?

After a brief silence on the other end, Meng Xuran let out a soft laugh. Instead of answering, she asked, “Is there a video call in your call history?”

“No,” Bo Mingyan admitted truthfully.

Meng Xuran let out a long “Oh,” then said, “So you drank so much you couldn’t tell dreams from reality?”

If Bo Mingyan hadn’t recalled Meng Xuran telling her to delete the recording, she might have believed this.

But now, it only gave her a strange, subtle feeling.

It sounded like teasing, like probing, and even more like a hint.

Bo Mingyan said, “A little.”

“Yesterday, after Sister Lu Yo dropped you off, she was worried about you, so she asked me to keep an eye on you through the surveillance.” Meng Xuran said.

This was the truth.

Bo Mingyan asked, “And then?”

“And then,” Meng Xuran said lightly, “I watched until you went back to your room to sleep.”

Also the truth.

But she still hadn’t directly answered Bo Mingyan’s first question.

Bo Mingyan lowered her lashes. “That’s it?”

“What else did you want to happen?” Meng Xuran asked lazily. “Did you want to video-call me? Did you miss me?”

Bo Mingyan licked her dry lips.

Just then, the doorbell rang. “The food’s here,” she said.

Meng Xuran tsked. “Go get it.”

After hanging up, Bo Mingyan opened the door to retrieve the delivery. The packaging was upscale, designed to retain heat. The congee was still steaming, and a small container held side dishes.

At the very bottom was another box. When she opened it, she found rows of neatly arranged milk-flavored mantou—small, round buns with a red dot in the center.

The order slip had a note in enlarged font: Please add a red dot to the buns for good luck.

The dreamlike images flashed through her mind again. Only then did Bo Mingyan realize why Meng Xuran had paused strangely earlier.

Looking back now, it felt incredibly subtle.

Her phone lit up again. Meng Xuran had sent a message:

[This place makes really fragrant, soft congee. I always order it when I’m not feeling well. They say their milk-flavored mantou are delicious too. [cheek rest] I’ve been craving them for a while [hungry] Try them for me first~]

Bo Mingyan pursed her lips slightly. The subtle feeling vanished, replaced by something indescribably complex.

The warmth from the food container seeped into her curled fingers, spreading through her limbs via her bloodstream.

After so many years of living alone, she had grown accustomed to surviving in the mud. In the past, even if she drank until her head split open during business meetings, she couldn’t show a hint of weakness—because no one cared, she had to pretend to be strong. Her vulnerability had died with Bo Weize; it was no longer allowed to surface.

But now, Meng Xuran had waited for her to wake up and ordered her breakfast in advance.

Even though they weren’t together.

She was still on her mind.

What did it feel like to be cherished by someone?

It was an ache in her chest, her heart pounding—alive yet bittersweet. It was the urge to possess them immediately, yet not wanting them to suffer on her account.

Bo Mingyan opened an art commission app she hadn’t used in a while. The last time she had taken on a project was back in college. Later, work became too busy, drawings took too long, and clients were too demanding, so she had abandoned it.

But people still sent project requests.

Bo Mingyan accepted two high-paying recent requests. As she ate her congee, she discussed the design requirements with the buyers.

The eight-treasure congee tasted wonderful—soft, sticky, sweet, and smooth without being greasy. In her good mood, the negotiations went smoothly.

By the time she finished discussing the designs, she had eaten most of the congee.

After cleaning up the containers, her phone lit up again. Bo Mingyan glanced at it—it was a message from Meng Xuran:

[Finished eating? How was it?]

Before Bo Mingyan could finish typing her reply, Meng Xuran sent another:

[Were the milk mantou good?]

Bo Mingyan lowered her gaze, her long lashes fluttering slightly. She returned to her room, grabbed her bag, deleted the half-written thank-you message, and replaced it with:

[Didn’t eat them. Too full.]

Then, she sent a voice message:

“Come back and try them yourself.”

Just before she left, Meng Xuran replied.

Also a voice message.

“At 2 p.m., show this message to HR to get time off and pick me up at the airport.”

Two seconds later, another message arrived, her voice noticeably softer:

“Here’s some candy first, to tide me over.”

The atmosphere at the company had been strange lately. Not long ago, a video of a man and woman passionately making out in the parking lot had circulated online. Someone recognized it as their company’s parking lot, and later, based on the man’s clothes, identified him as Sun Haoqi, the design director from another team in the Design Department. The woman’s identity, however, remained unknown.

Then, someone revealed that Sun Haoqi was engaged.

Because Sun Haoqi had been parachuted into his position, taking over Zhou Wenlin’s spot in the Haute Couture team, the two teams weren’t on good terms. The Haute Couture team mostly ignored the scandal, and even Ava, who had previously speculated about Sun Haoqi dating a designer, now adopted a “don’t judge without full context” attitude.

The gossip spread like wildfire in other departments, but in the Haute Couture team, it fizzled out.

Until noon, when someone posted screenshots from the video on the company’s anonymous forum, showing Bo Mingyan and Sun Haoqi walking together in the parking lot.

The forum was originally meant for employees to report misconduct by superiors, but now, some were using it to spread misinformation.

The poster wrote: [The female lead has arrived~]

And just like that, the crowd was led astray, assuming Bo Mingyan was the woman who had nearly gotten hot and heavy with Sun Haoqi in the parking lot.

The Haute Couture team erupted.

Ava: [Are you insane? What part of Sun Haoqi is worthy of our Xiaoyanyan? What evidence do you have that the woman is Mingyan?!]

Anonymous: [You’re not the woman, so how would you know he’s not worthy? Isn’t the video evidence?]

Zhou Wenlin: [The videos might not be from the same day.]

Anonymous: [[image]]

The screenshot proved the videos were from the same day and time.

Hu Liuri: [Even putting aside the fact that sister Mingyan is way out of his league, look at the clothes—the colors don’t even match!]

Anonymous: [Maybe her clothes got wet, so she changed.]

Anonymous: [LOL must’ve been intense. Isn’t Bo Mingyan mixed-race? Foreigners are all pretty open.]

Anonymous: [Probably the woman came onto him. Director Sun seems like a pretty gentle guy.]

Anonymous: [Definitely the woman’s fault. Even the gentlest guys can’t resist.]

Liu Yang stood up furiously, rolling up his sleeves. “You morons! If I find out who’s spewing this crap anonymously, I’ll beat you until you’re crawling back to your mom!”

Heads popped up from behind computer screens to stare at him.

The post was deleted by the moderator, and several accounts were banned.

No one dared to post again.

Hu Jingjing sighed. “Thank goodness sister Mingyan went to pick up Little Director Meng. I hope she doesn’t see this garbage.”

Bo Mingyan was driving and didn’t see it, but Meng Xuran, sitting in the passenger seat with nothing to do but scroll through her phone, saw everything clearly.

Meng Xuran contacted the head of the IT Department: [Delete the post, ban those anonymous accounts, and post a warning against spreading rumors.]

After handling everything, she zoomed in on the screenshot of the timestamp proof, studying the figure reflected in the car’s rearview mirror, her brow furrowing deeply.

Noticing the shift in Meng Xuran’s expression from smiling to grimacing, Bo Mingyan asked during a red light, “Are you feeling unwell?”

“No,” Meng Xuran turned off her phone screen, forcing her expression to relax as she smiled faintly. “It’s nothing.”

Meng Xuran thought the matter could be resolved quietly behind the scenes. She didn’t expect that, back at the company, a woman claiming to be Sun Haoqi’s wife was waiting for Bo Mingyan.