Two Faced Lover - Chapter 60

Chapter 60: The Orange

“Damn, Little Director Meng’s words are way too flirty,” Ava exclaimed, then patted Bo Mingyan’s shoulder reassuringly. “As everyone knows, ideal types are meant to be shattered by reality. Isn’t there a meme online? ‘Even though you don’t match my ideal type at all, I’m still devoted to you—that’s love.’”

Bo Mingyan rested her cheek on one hand, her gaze lingering on the passage in the magazine. Thinking about what Meng Xuran had said to her the night before, she murmured, “I think it’s worth a try.”

Ava asked, “Try what?”

“Try exploring another side of myself,” Bo Mingyan replied.

“Huh?” Ava scrutinized Bo Mingyan closely.

Since revealing that she was pursuing someone, Bo Mingyan had started dressing up more often, her striking features becoming even more radiant, her beauty almost aggressive—especially when she wore glasses at work.

But after working together for half a year, Ava knew Bo Mingyan’s temperament well: gentle, patient, measured, and even-tempered.

She got along well with everyone, yet at the same time, not really.

Extreme restraint was detachment, excessive gentleness was indifference.

Ava didn’t know what that deeply hidden side of Bo Mingyan was like, nor could she imagine it.

But one thing was certain—it couldn’t possibly align with the description in the magazine.

Because the contrasting traits mentioned there were almost all negative.

“No, Xiao Yan, I think if someone truly likes you, they’ll like every side of you. You don’t have to change yourself into what they like just for their sake.”

“That’s true,” Bo Mingyan turned to meet Ava’s gaze and explained, “So, whether good or bad, I want to face her as my most authentic self.”

If Meng Xuran could accept that side of her, then the parts of herself that had rotted in the past could finally bask in the sunlight.

But if Meng Xuran couldn’t accept it…

Meng Xuran had said she would love every side of her. Bo Mingyan believed her.

And she was willing to be open, communicate, and compromise.

Not to change herself into what the other person liked, but because she wanted to walk a longer path with Meng Xuran.

Bo Mingyan turned back to the computer screen, where Gu Yuwei’s ideas for the evening gown had just popped up. She said earnestly, “I’ll also work hard to improve myself.”

To shine brightly and match the dazzling little sun.

Once the direction was set, the next step was action.

As for Meng Xuran’s hobbies, Bo Mingyan only knew she liked playing games, but not the specifics. Coincidentally, the magazine interview revealed the online and mobile games Meng Xuran played in her free time.

Bo Mingyan had also played the online game Meng Xuran mentioned, though it was a long time ago. Surrounded by foreigners in the game, she had felt a kinship with the few fellow players. But later, when a younger player started pursuing her online, she stopped playing.

Eventually, work got busy, and she uninstalled the game altogether. So much time had passed that she couldn’t even remember the younger player’s username.

Since mobile games were more convenient, Bo Mingyan downloaded the two Meng Xuran played to try them out.

That evening, Bo Mingyan sat on the sofa playing a game while Meng Xuran lounged with her legs draped over Bo Mingyan’s lap, browsing on her tablet.

Then, Bo Mingyan’s motion sickness kicked in, and she nearly threw up.

Meng Xuran panicked and wanted to take her to the hospital, but Bo Mingyan quickly assured her it wasn’t necessary—she hadn’t actually vomited, just felt nauseous.

After washing her face, Bo Mingyan returned from the bathroom.

Meng Xuran handed her a glass of warm water. “Are you really okay?”

Bo Mingyan sat back on the sofa with the glass. “It’s just from playing the game, I’m fine.”

“What kind of game makes you sick?” Meng Xuran glanced at Bo Mingyan’s phone on the coffee table, the game interface still on the screen. Her eyebrows lifted in understanding. “It’s a bit dizzying at first, but you’ll get used to it. Why did you suddenly start playing this?”

“I saw in the magazine that you play it, so I wanted to try. But I probably won’t adapt anytime soon.” Bo Mingyan picked up her phone and exited the game, deciding to abandon it for the other one.

As soon as she opened it, a system message popped up: she’d played so poorly in the last match that her teammates had reported her, resulting in a temporary ban.

A false start, an early defeat.

Bo Mingyan blinked and silently closed that game too.

“Magazine?” Meng Xuran’s eyes lit up. “You bought it?”

Then, remembering her own bold words in the interview, she grabbed a pillow to hide her flushed face and muttered in self-defense, “Actually, that ideal type was just my way of saying… no matter which side of the person I like, I’ll love them all. Even if it’s completely different from how they appear on the surface, I’d still find their contrasting traits endearing…”

Bo Mingyan hummed in agreement. She understood Meng Xuran’s meaning and didn’t dwell on it. Instead, she pondered her next move—since both mobile games were out, she’d have to turn to the online game she was somewhat familiar with.

“By the way, do you play ‘Glory’?” Bo Mingyan asked. “What’s your username?”

Meng Xuran froze. She hadn’t expected Wei Lan to include that offhand mention of “Glory” in the interview. Lowering her lashes, she asked calmly, “Why?”

“No reason, I used to play it for a while.” Bo Mingyan took a sip of water and set the glass down. “I thought if you played, we could team up.”

In “Glory,” usernames were unique and couldn’t be changed—the only way to get a new name was to register a new account. Friends were added via usernames.

Back then, to level up to “Grandmaster Blacksmith,” Meng Xuran had created two alternate accounts, but she couldn’t remember the passwords for either.

Meng Xuran scratched the tip of her nose. “I haven’t played in a while. I forgot the account info.”

Bo Mingyan’s lips parted, but she said nothing, simply nodding. She’d only seen Meng Xuran play once, back when they’d just moved in together, so she had no reason to doubt her.

It was just a shame—this option was out too.

Meng Xuran sipped from her enamel cup, stealing glances at Bo Mingyan. She couldn’t stand seeing that lost, disappointed look on Bo Mingyan’s face. Softening, she dug herself a hole: “I’ll add you when I remember. Then we can play together.”

Bo Mingyan agreed with a smile.

Meng Xuran’s eyes curved in response. She set down her cup and handed Bo Mingyan the tablet, changing the subject. “I’ve decided to take the company to Xiaomufeng Resort for the annual party—three days, two nights. First day: check-in, rest, buffet dinner. For the second day, the tour guide suggested two itineraries. Option one: skiing. Option two: hiking in Jiangnan Town for the scenery, then back to the resort for a bonfire barbecue. All rooms have hot springs.”

Bo Mingyan recalled Meng Xuran asking her about this before. At the time, she’d given a diplomatic answer.

Sure enough, Meng Xuran immediately followed up: “Skiing or hiking—pick one. No ‘both are fine’!”

She shoved the tablet into Bo Mingyan’s hands, showing the detailed itineraries from the tour guide.

Bo Mingyan adjusted her glasses and studied them carefully before suggesting, “Maybe split into two groups and let everyone choose? The sample-makers and quality inspectors are older—skiing might not suit them.”

Meng Xuran propped her elbow on her knee, cupping her chin as she stared at Bo Mingyan, her voice softening. “I was thinking the same. Which would you pick?”

“Skiing,” Bo Mingyan asked, “Does the resort provide ski suits?”

The itinerary only mentioned equipment rentals like skis.

“You can rent or buy your own,” Meng Xuran said.

Bo Mingyan fell into thought, then picked up her phone and messaged a former colleague. After a brief exchange, she asked Meng Xuran, “Do you have a ski suit?”

Meng Xuran shook her head. “But I have a windbreaker.”

“Want me to get you a set?” Bo Mingyan added, fearing refusal, “I designed the pattern and colors.”

Years ago, a colleague from Me had started their own business and asked Bo Mingyan to design ski suit patterns. Bo Mingyan hadn’t charged for it, and the colleague still remembered the favor. When Bo Mingyan mentioned wanting to buy the colorway she’d designed, they happily offered to send her two sets for free.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Meng Xuran agreed eagerly. “What’s the design?”

“You’ll see,” Bo Mingyan teased. “No peeking ahead.”

Meng Xuran’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “If you’re giving me a ski suit, I’ll give you a swimsuit. Deal?”

Bo Mingyan turned to meet her gaze, catching a glint of slyness. Suddenly, she remembered the drawer full of Meng Xuran’s lingerie—each piece more risqué than the last, all lace, mesh, or ties. Her eyebrow twitched. “…What style?”

“You’ll see,” Meng Xuran grinned, her smile dazzling as she mimicked Bo Mingyan’s tone. “No peeking ahead.”

“…”

Rumors about the annual party circulated for nearly a week before the official announcement.

Bo Mingyan suspected Meng Xuran had been waiting for the ski suits to arrive, but she had no proof.

And Meng Xuran’s “Glory” username remained forgotten until the day of the trip.

On the day of the trip, Meng Xuran, leveraging her position as director, used the excuse of discussing Gu Yuwei’s gown design to arrange for Bo Mingyan to sit with her on the bus and share a hotel room—all under the guise of professionalism.

Ava even lamented in the “Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea” group chat:

[Having Little Director Meng breathing down your neck even on a trip… you’re suffering, Xiao Yan.]

Hu Jingjing: [Hang in there, sister Mingyan.]

Liu Yang: [Stay strong, stay strong.]

Bo Mingyan, who had served as Meng Xuran’s human pillow the entire ride, replied: [It’s fine.]

“Tch, really not suffering?” Meng Xuran asked.

Bo Mingyan glanced at her. “What do you think?”

Meng Xuran pouted, her lips curling into a smile. She sat up straight, rubbing her stiff neck.

“Not sleeping anymore?” Bo Mingyan asked.

“Mm… didn’t want to make you suffer, so I changed positions.” Meng Xuran leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes, her lips pressed into a tight line.

Maybe it was the bumpy roads after entering the city, but her stomach churned uncomfortably.

Time stretched unbearably when you felt sick. Meng Xuran had no idea how long it had been when she heard noises—a zipper, then the sound of a tin opening.

Something cool touched her lips, and Bo Mingyan’s soft voice murmured, “Open up.”

Meng Xuran parted her lips, and a round candy slipped into her mouth.

Sweet-and-sour plum candy.

She opened her eyes to see Bo Mingyan holding her usual candy tin, the plum candy inside clashing with the rest.

“Want an orange?” Bo Mingyan pulled one from her bag.

Meng Xuran, the candy still in her mouth, hummed. The nausea had eased, but her head still spun.

The chatter around them made their little corner feel even quieter.

The setting sun streamed through the window, casting the orange peel in a golden hue, the person peeling it bathed in an almost dreamlike glow.

“Manman, oranges are not the only fruit,” Meng Xuran murmured. “But I am…”

Bo Mingyan’s heart skipped a beat.

Someone had once said something similar to her:

[Life isn’t just one choice. Besides family, there’s love. Besides your father and mother, there will be others who love you. Oranges are not the only fruit, but I am…]

[Would you consider me?]

It was the only “Grandmaster Blacksmith” in “Glory,” the one who’d followed her around daily, who’d said those words after learning about her family and her disappointment in Lin Huixin.

Suddenly, Bo Mingyan remembered that player’s username—[Xuran Butterfly Dream].

Author’s Note:

Just remembered a point I forgot to mention yesterday:

Manman’s eyes are smoke-green—like leaves, like lakes.

Meng Jiaojiao’s eyes are brown—like tree trunks, like earth.

“The sun and the earth will embrace everything” from the previous chapter was written because Manman and Jiaojiao were looking at each other.