Two Faced Lover - Chapter 51

51: Progress

“With such a high base score, why not be bold and try?”

Meng Xuran stared straight at her, strands of hair falling against her cheeks. The moving car lights outside reflected in her pupils, shimmering with faint ripples.

It felt like both a challenge and an invitation.

The burning intensity in Bo Mingyan’s eyes spread like thick ink.

“Is the full score ten points?”

For someone like Meng Xuran—who wouldn’t even tolerate sharing the same hair tie as others—the definition of a perfect score would naturally be unconventional.

Sure enough—

“I’m a lazy person. If I’m going to be with someone, I can’t be bothered to switch later. So let’s make it a meaningful number—eleven points.” Meng Xuran swapped to a new cotton swab to apply medicine. As she leaned close, she lifted her gaze to meet Bo Mingyan’s. “One lifetime, one person. Eleven.”

Bo Mingyan’s lashes trembled slightly, leaving her momentarily speechless.

“What, scared off already?” Meng Xuran asked, her tone lazy but carrying a hint of provocation. Her movements grew a little rougher.

It stung.

“No,” Bo Mingyan replied after a pause. “If my swelling goes down, can I get eight points?”

“What’s this? Are we bargaining now?” Meng Xuran’s eyes flickered mischievously. “You just reminded me—your looks have taken a hit. Should be six points.”

Bo Mingyan tilted her head, lips curving into a faint, helpless smile. The soreness on one side of her face made her expression subtle as she turned back to accuse, “You’re cheating.”

Meng Xuran shrugged, her entire demeanor screaming, So what if I am? What can you do about it?

Bo Mingyan laughed in exasperation, and Meng Xuran couldn’t help but join in.

The sight of Meng Xuran’s radiant smile instantly dispelled the gloom and frustration left by the earlier incident. But soon, Bo Mingyan’s expression faded again as she belatedly realized the deeper meaning behind Meng Xuran’s offer to let her pursue her and assign scores—

It meant Meng Xuran had feelings for her too.

And those feelings surpassed what she held for anyone else.

She was like a long-sealed jar of wine, dug out from muddy filth, dusted off, and praised as better than all the rest. She didn’t know if she deserved such affirmation. All she wanted was to pour out every drop of her richness for this person, only to suddenly realize that beyond the intoxicating liquor inside, she had nothing else to give—nor did she know how to offer it.

The seductive haze of night thickened, while the blaring car horns outside urged wakefulness.

After finishing with the medicine, Meng Xuran tossed the used cotton swab into a small trash bin. Glancing at Bo Mingyan’s lowered eyes, she hesitated before leaning over to buckle Bo Mingyan’s seatbelt for her.

Silky strands of hair slipped into the collar of Meng Xuran’s sweater. Bo Mingyan froze, lifting her head just as Meng Xuran pulled back.

As she turned, their noses brushed lightly. Bo Mingyan’s gaze flickered, sweeping past the teardrop mole at the corner of Meng Xuran’s eye before settling on her slightly parted lips.

“What are you staring at?”

Meng Xuran’s lips were perfectly shaped—neither too thin nor too full, her cupid’s bow soft.

“Nothing.” Bo Mingyan murmured, snapping out of her daze. She licked her lips.

Meng Xuran settled back into her seat, buckling her own seatbelt while grumbling, “Did adding one point make you stupid? Shouldn’t you be buckling my seatbelt? At this rate, people would think I’m the one pursuing you. Whatever, I won’t deduct points since your face is already pitiful enough.”

Bo Mingyan admitted honestly, “I’m not very good at pursuing people.”

Meng Xuran’s eyebrow twitched. “Don’t tell me you want me to teach you again?”

Bo Mingyan, distracted, didn’t catch the implication. “What?”

Realizing she’d almost slipped up, Meng Xuran feigned calm. “Nothing.”

Bo Mingyan gave her a puzzled look but didn’t press further.

Meng Xuran changed the subject. “Even if you’ve never pursued anyone, you’ve been pursued, right? Don’t tell me no one’s ever chased you.”

“There have been,” Bo Mingyan said, frowning. “But if they were any good at it, I wouldn’t be the one chasing you now, would I?”

“…”

Fair point.

Meng Xuran scoffed, then laughed ambiguously. “I’m not good at pursuing people either.”

Bo Mingyan blinked. “You’ve pursued someone before?”

Meng Xuran glanced at her briefly before focusing on the road, steering the car onto the main street.

Her silence was answer enough.

Bo Mingyan pressed her lips together and turned to look out the window.

Cars of all shapes and sizes weaved through the streets like a long river, flowing slowly or rapidly through the winter’s biting wind.

Much like Bo Mingyan’s tangled emotions.

The car fell silent again until Meng Xuran tapped the steering wheel and asked in a joking tone, “What, does it bother you that I’ve pursued someone else?”

Bo Mingyan recalled their late-night conversation during their business trip, when Meng Xuran had told her she wouldn’t take the initiative even if she met someone she liked.

Only now did Bo Mingyan understand what those words truly meant.

Those who’ve hit a wall once rarely charge headfirst into it again.

Bo Mingyan closed her eyes. “No.”

She couldn’t imagine how fiercely someone as radiant as Meng Xuran must have loved another, nor how dim her light must have dimmed when that love disappointed her.

“I don’t mind.” Bo Mingyan said slowly, her tone earnest.

She just felt… a little envy, a little jealousy, and—

A whole lot of heartache.

After dropping Bo Mingyan off at home, Meng Xuran returned to the company to tie up loose ends. Before leaving, she reminded her, “Call me if you feel unwell.”

Bo Mingyan paused before replying, “Okay.”

“Should I order dinner for you?” Meng Xuran asked, unsure if Bo Mingyan still had an appetite.

“No need,” Bo Mingyan said. “I still have the mini buns you bought.”

Meng Xuran muttered under her breath, “What a shame. I won’t get to taste them.”

Bo Mingyan heard her. “I’ll save two for you.”

“Mm, two is perfect.” Meng Xuran said.

Simultaneously, they both pictured the buns—small, round, soft, and white, with a dot of red at the center.

The atmosphere grew subtly charged.

Meng Xuran coughed lightly. “Get some rest.”

Bo Mingyan arched a brow, struck by a peculiar feeling.

Even though she was the one supposed to be doing the pursuing, she was still being taken care of by the younger Meng Xuran.

“Come back early.” Bo Mingyan said.

“Mhm~” Meng Xuran beamed at her. “Progress has reached 72. Keep it up, Lao Bo.”

Clearly, Princess Meng wasn’t one to shortchange herself. Three points had effortlessly translated into thirty points of progress.

Though the way “Lao Bo” rolled off her tongue sounded suspiciously like “lao po” (wife).

Quite the motivator.

A thought struck Bo Mingyan. “Can you keep updating me on the progress bar like this?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Meng Xuran raised a single brow. “Depends on my mood.”

With that, she closed the door.

Bo Mingyan stared at the red wooden door, blinking slowly before a smile curved her lips.

Her swollen face made her head feel foggy. After instructing Hu Jingjing about fabric color charts, Bo Mingyan checked the time and ordered takeout for Meng Xuran, texting:

[Sent you milk tea and dinner.]

Meng Xuran was likely busy and didn’t reply immediately. Bo Mingyan used the time to eat two mini buns before showering.

Half an hour later, she stepped out of the bathroom and checked her phone. The delivery had arrived, and Meng Xuran had messaged a minute ago.

[Schrödinger]: Got the delivery.

[Cat]: Is the milk tea hot?

[Schrödinger]: Pretty hot. New flavor? Tastes pretty good.

[Schrödinger]: But I strongly suspect you’re trying to fatten me up to lower the difficulty of pursuing me [disdain]

[Cat]: I’m not [shaking head.jpg]

After a little over a minute, Meng Xuran sent another message.

[Schrödinger]: 76.

Wasn’t it “don’t get ahead of yourself”? Bo Mingyan chuckled softly.

[Cat]: Does that mean the method is feasible?

[Schrödinger]: 75. [smile]

[Cat]: …

Meng Xuran must have returned to work, as she didn’t reply further.

The phone screen darkened. Bo Mingyan gazed at her own reflection—her gentle smile—until her eyes gradually lost focus.

Life had taught Bo Mingyan to wear a mask of composure, to handle everything with detached rationality. Because beyond her face, she had nothing. She had no choice but to weigh the consequences of every action, to rein in her emotions to avoid repercussions.

Like what happened today.

She’d been through it twice before.

During her postgraduate studies, Bo Mingyan’s beauty and academic excellence earned her a professor’s favor—and others’ envy.

At some point, baseless rumors began circulating.

That her grades were earned by sleeping with the professor. That his favoritism was because she was “skilled” in certain ways.

Between organizing fashion exhibitions and freelance illustration work, Bo Mingyan had no time for gossip. Moreover, as a mixed-race student, she was already ostracized, making her somewhat numb to malicious speculation.

Until one morning.

On her way to the restroom after a meeting with her professor, she overheard a group of girls describing her with the vilest words.

“Did that slut go feed her dear professor again?”

“Who knows? But who needs that long for a discussion?”

“That forum post was right—Bo Mingyan’s a born whore.”

“I heard she’s always been good at seducing—”

Back then, Bo Mingyan’s pride still had sharp edges. She shoved the door open, confronting them and demanding public apologies.

In the end, she got her apologies—and relentless retaliation. Isolation, bullying, and worse followed.

The sole person who’d defended her online fell silent after being threatened.

No one stood by her side. Not even the professor who’d once praised her genius.

No one had ever chosen her unequivocally.

Bo Mingyan grew increasingly aware that without expectations, there could be no crushing disappointments. She became gentler, colder, maintaining a safe distance from everyone.

But over time, her emotions grew numb.

She was like a walking corpse.

Alive, but without knowing why.

She trudged through a long, dark road with no end in sight—until she glimpsed moonlight stumbling through the cracks. Hesitant at first, she walked slowly, then faster, until she was running with outstretched hands.

And then—

She stepped into open air.

Beneath her suspended feet was a brilliance that could illuminate her truest self.

It dawned on Bo Mingyan that she still had feelings after all.

That she could still fall for someone.

That she could still feel insecurity, embarrassed by her own emptiness, afraid of failing to bring happiness in the future.

That she could envy, even resent the person Meng Xuran had once pursued but failed to win.

That when Meng Xuran stepped in front of her and gripped her hand tightly, her rationality shattered, leaving her powerless against her own thoughts and actions, selfishly surrendering to the urge to draw closer.

That she could ache so deeply for someone, love so fiercely.

That she could crave possession.

Feeling her heart pound wildly, Bo Mingyan let the turbulent mix of greed, resentment, and longing surge from her depths like an endless tide. The warm light spilled before her.

Only now did she finally feel alive.

As Lu Yo had said—Meng Xuran is so wonderful, how could I bear to let anyone else have her?

If someone else were better, she’d go mad with jealousy.

If someone else were worse, she’d break from heartache.

Either way, for her, the best outcome was selfishly claiming Meng Xuran for herself.

So she poured all her courage into this freefall toward the light called “Meng Xuran,” trusting that even her mediocrity and worthlessness could, from the lowest dust, bloom into the most dazzling flowers for her.

Around midnight, Meng Xuran returned home after wrapping up work. Assuming Bo Mingyan was asleep, she didn’t text.

As her key turned in the lock, she suddenly remembered—Bo Mingyan usually locked the door when home alone.

But the knob turned smoothly with a soft click. Meng Xuran’s eyes shimmered.

Bo Mingyan had left the door unlocked for her.

Upon entering, Xiao Man greeted her as usual, tilting its head.

Unusually, the living room lights were on, the TV murmuring softly. A laptop and drawing tablet sat on the coffee table, while a figure bundled in a blanket drowsed on the sofa, stubbornly waiting up for her.

Hearing the noise, Bo Mingyan jolted slightly awake. She glanced toward the entryway, then at her watch. “Any later, and I’d have fallen asleep.”

Meng Xuran walked toward her, step by step, through the light. “Why not sleep in your room?”

Bo Mingyan handed her a small cluster of blue baby’s breath from the side table.

“Where’d this come from?” Meng Xuran asked, accepting it.

“Grocery app.” Bo Mingyan said.

“So you bought it while grocery shopping,” Meng Xuran muttered. “Don’t tell me it was just to hit the free delivery minimum.”

Bo Mingyan often threw in a bottled water to meet the threshold.

“…” Bo Mingyan, mid-sip of water, nearly choked. “It wasn’t. I didn’t need it for the minimum.”

It was a tiny bunch—more suited for a pencil holder than a vase. Meng Xuran held it tightly, gazing down as the blue specks adorned the desolate night sky she’d carried for so long.

“You waited up just to give me this?”

“Partly.” Bo Mingyan set down her cup, voice soft. “I also wanted to tell you something in person.”

Meng Xuran didn’t press, settling into the armchair across from her in silence.

“Meng Xuran.” Bo Mingyan called her name gently.

Meng Xuran stiffened. Her fingers curled around the flowers. “Hm?” She lifted her eyes.

Bo Mingyan kept her gaze on her cup, where the lamplight rippled.

Xiao Man stepped on the remote, bathing the room in warm yellow light.

Bo Mingyan’s usually cool voice took on the light’s tenderness.

“It’s my first time pursuing someone. Please be patient with me.”

With Meng Xuran’s personality, Bo Mingyan expected a retort like “No, I won’t.” It didn’t matter—she was prepared to keep trying.

But Meng Xuran said nothing.

The silence stretched until Bo Mingyan finally looked up to search her eyes.

A glimmer of moisture flickered and vanished.

Meng Xuran lowered her head, fiddling with the blurred baby’s breath in her vision.

“79.”

Author’s Note:

Q: Why isn’t it 80?!!!

Meng Xuran: My personality should make me say, “No way!” But… but… she left the door open for me. But… but… she waited for me to get off work. But… but… she bought me flowers. But… but… I love her so much. (Inner: This round’s definitely an 80.)

But… but… Hah, she probably has no idea she’s jealous of herself 🙂