Two Faced Lover - Chapter 54

54: Domineering

As normal working hours neared their end, Meng Xuran sent a message saying she had a dinner meeting with a magazine publisher and would be home late.

Bo Mingyan replied with an “Okay,” worked a little overtime, then left the company to buy groceries at a fresh market. The line art for yesterday’s commercial illustration had been approved, and the client had paid the deposit. With finances less tight, she bought the meat Meng Xuran had been craving.

After leaving the market, Bo Mingyan stopped by the neighboring flower shop for a small cluster of blue baby’s breath and a single rose.

Back home, after completing all preparations, she curled up on the sofa just like the previous night, turning on the TV for background noise as she colored her illustrations while waiting for Meng Xuran’s return.

She hadn’t been drawing long when her phone on the coffee table vibrated. Thinking it was Meng Xuran, Bo Mingyan immediately picked it up, only for the light in her eyes to dim instantly.

Lin Huixin: [Manman, the weather forecast says a cold front is coming to Nanquan City. Keep warm.]

Since their encounter at the cemetery, Lin Huixin hadn’t contacted her. This sudden concern was textbook “no visits without a reason.” Bo Mingyan almost laughed—she could already predict what Lin Huixin would say next.

Sure enough, another message followed: [I heard from Chengzi that you work at the same company. Don’t overwork yourself—remember to rest.]

Lin Huixin was waiting for a response. Instead of replying, Bo Mingyan first posted a WeChat Moment—two photos she’d just taken.

The first showed Xiao Man curled up on the entryway cabinet, eagerly awaiting Meng Xuran’s return.

The second was a shot of her wristwatch.

The post was visible only to Meng Xuran and Lin Huixin.

Both photos were hints for Meng Xuran to check the time and come home early—someone was waiting.

As for Lin Huixin, Bo Mingyan had another motive. By posting, she made it clear she was active on WeChat and had seen the messages—she just didn’t want to reply.

Perhaps realizing her intent, or noticing the watch had belonged to Bo Weize, Lin Huixin didn’t message again.

Bo Mingyan set her phone aside and resumed coloring.

Drawing usually calmed her. For a time, she relied on design work to steady her emotions. But now, her thoughts spiraled out of control as she recalled the video of Meng Xuran confronting He Chencheng.

Though she hadn’t seen the anonymous forum’s content, she could guess—slander, defamation, baseless accusations.

That He Chencheng was involved didn’t surprise her.

Clues had always existed. During her first encounter with malicious speculation on such forums, someone had outright claimed she even seduced her own brother.

But abroad, few knew her well enough for such details.

The slip of information had long exposed the perpetrator.

She’d even traced the IP address and confronted Lin Huixin with it.

Bo Mingyan would never forget Lin Huixin’s words:

“You haven’t interacted in years. Chencheng has no reason to do this.”

“This definitely isn’t Chencheng’s doing. These things can be faked.”

“I know there were misunderstandings between you two as kids. You’re biased against him, but you can’t falsely accuse your brother like this.”

Even when subjected to cruelty, even facing her own mother, the scales of love never once tipped in her favor.

Yet Meng Xuran had publicly given her the unconditional support she’d long stopped daring to hope for.

The thought made Bo Mingyan unable to continue drawing. A powerful impulse surged within her.

Suddenly, staying home waiting passively for Meng Xuran felt insufficient.

She could be more proactive.

She could drive over now and bring Meng Xuran home herself.

Bo Mingyan shut her laptop and picked up her phone, hesitating briefly.

What if Meng Xuran was too busy to check messages? What if she arrived only to find Meng Xuran had already left?

Just then, Meng Xuran liked her Moment and sent a message: [Is your post visible to everyone?]

[Cat]: [No, just two people.]

[Schrödinger]: [Oh.]

[Schrödinger]: [Who’s the other one?]

[Cat]: [My mom.]

Meng Xuran sent another “Oh,” this time as a sticker.

[Cat]: [Is the dinner over?]

[Schrödinger]: [Not yet, but it should wrap up soon. Why, miss me?]

[Cat]: [Yes.]

On the other end, stunned by the straightforward reply, Meng Xuran bit her lip to suppress a smile as she typed: [Tch. Wait a little longer.]

A second later, Bo Mingyan responded: [Send me your location.]

Realizing Bo Mingyan’s intent, Meng Xuran’s heart raced.

She reread the four words.

The more she looked, the more domineering they seemed—and the more she liked it.

Meng Xuran sent her location, then texted Uncle Cai to take the night off before returning to the dinner table.

The magazine’s editor-in-chief, Wei Lan, had organized this dinner to apologize. During Moment’s crisis, Wei Lan’s rival had seized the chance to scrap Meng Xuran’s interview from the magazine. But now that Meng Xuran had resolved everything and Assassination was trending ahead of filming—using footage of her high-end designs—Wei Lan sought to reconnect.

Midway through the meal, Wei Lan proposed renewed collaboration. Meng Xuran excused herself to the restroom without responding.

Wei Lan expected rejection. When she’d broached the topic earlier, Meng Xuran had been scrolling through her phone disinterestedly, her expression unreadable.

Yet Meng Xuran returned humming, her mood seemingly flipped.

Estimating Bo Mingyan’s arrival time, Meng Xuran finally asked, “I heard your magazine secured Qin Zhizhen for the New Year’s cover?”

“Yes.” Catching her meaning, Wei Lan offered, “We can feature your designs in Ms. Qin’s spread, along with your previously canceled interview in that issue. How does that sound?”

Her phone lit up.

[Progress 82]: [Here.]

Meng Xuran’s brows arched as she stood and extended a hand. “Pleasure doing business.”

Outside, Wei Lan asked politely, “Did you drive here, Director Meng?”

After confirming Bo Mingyan’s parking spot, Meng Xuran strode off without answering.

The marketing director, noticing Wei Lan’s stiff expression, smoothed things over: “Director Meng’s father arranged a personal car and driver. She must be in a hurry because Chairman Fu asked her to return.”

Wei Lan’s expression shifted subtly in relief. Her judgment had been correct—though Fu Changqing hadn’t intervened publicly, his daughter’s importance was undeniable.

No wonder negotiations had gone smoothly tonight. Daddy’s influence must have helped.

Meanwhile, the person Wei Lan assumed was Meng Xuran’s “daddy”—Bo Mingyan—sat in her car, spotting Meng Xuran from afar and flashing her headlights.

“Miss me so much you couldn’t wait to fetch me?” Meng Xuran teased as she slid into the passenger seat. “Realized how empty~ lonely~ cold~ it is without me at home?”

Whoever taught Meng Xuran to speak like this—lingering on certain syllables with that unique voice—made the last five words drip with implication.

Bo Mingyan turned to study her intently. “Have you been drinking, Director Meng?”

“No. Wei Lan’s allergic—no alcohol served.” Meng Xuran shut the door with a hmph. “Trying to say I’m drunk? I’m perfectly sober.”

Utterly sober while flirting. How bold of me, she thought.

Yet the next second, her courage faltered.

“I was going to say,” Bo Mingyan’s lips curved, “your face is very red.”

“…”

Payback. Blatant payback for teasing her about blushing ears this morning! Even though she’d retaliated already, here it came again!

Meng Xuran smacked off the interior lights and glared—her eyes glistening like the starry night outside.

Bo Mingyan turned away, fingers tracing the steering wheel.

Meng Xuran lowered her head, idly fiddling with her phone case.

Silence filled the car, amplifying their heartbeats.

Just as Meng Xuran was about to ask why they weren’t moving, Bo Mingyan leaned over, pressing the baby’s breath and rose into her hands before buckling her seatbelt.

At their closest, Bo Mingyan met her gaze and murmured, “It was quite empty, lonely, and cold.”

Back then, her heart had wandered lost, without a home.

So she’d come eagerly to claim one.

The instigator’s heart now raced faster.

Meng Xuran raised the flowers to hide her face, turning toward the window where she caught sight of her own crescent-moon eyes.

On the drive back, Meng Xuran started a conversation: “Skiing or hiking?”

“Skiing,” Bo Mingyan said after a turn, “but hiking’s fine too.”

“…” Meng Xuran pressed on, “Hot springs or bonfire party?”

Bo Mingyan pondered. “Are they mutually exclusive?”

“…” Meng Xuran tried again, “Same-price buffet or barbecue?”

This time, Bo Mingyan chose decisively: “Barbecue.”

“Oh?” Meng Xuran was curious. “Why not the buffet?”

“Too lazy to serve myself.”

Meng Xuran laughed. “Why not too lazy to grill, then?”

Bo Mingyan looked surprised. “You have to grill it yourself? Then buffet.” Pausing, she asked, “Why these questions? Planning a trip?”

Pointless interrogation. Meng Xuran huffed, “Just asking!”

“…” Bo Mingyan drew out an hmm before saying seriously, “If you’re traveling, I’ll answer properly. What were the questions again?”

One asked randomly, the other answered randomly.

Meng Xuran laughed in exasperation.

Parked at their building, Bo Mingyan suddenly remembered something as she stepped out. “Why’d you ask about my WeChat privacy settings earlier? Worried people might find out we live together?”

“No. It’s because your hand in the second photo looked really nice.”

Meng Xuran recalled the image—slender, jade-like fingers, the wristwatch accentuating their elegance. “I’m possessive. Even though we’re not officially together yet, since you’re pursuing me, by extension, you’re mine. And what’s mine—especially something as beautiful as that photo, those hands—I absolutely refuse to share.”

The night was too dark to see if Meng Xuran’s cheeks were still flushed, but Bo Mingyan felt her own ears burn as if bitten by the words.

“You’re so domineering.” Bo Mingyan chided, unable to suppress her smile.

“Damn right.” Meng Xuran circled to face her, chin lifted. “Don’t like it?”

“No.” Bo Mingyan lowered her head and extended a hand. “I love it.”

Suppressing a grin, Meng Xuran eyed the offering and feigned composure. “What’s this for?”

“For you to hold.” Bo Mingyan countered, “Don’t you like it?”

Meng Xuran tsked and clasped it.

Neither knew who initiated the interlocking of fingers, but their hands soon entwined tightly.

Under the dim, ambiguous streetlights, Meng Xuran’s clear voice flowed by her ear:

“90.”

Love it.

To avoid confusion: [Cat] is Bo Mingyan’s self-assigned nickname