Two Faced Lover - Chapter 63

63: Promise

The hugging position was a bit awkward, but Meng Xuran didn’t move. Her voice muffled, she asked, “If we ever have a disagreement in the future, will you get angry and ignore me?”

The warm, soft bundle in her arms, Bo Mingyan, nuzzled lightly against Meng Xuran’s neck like a cat, her arms tightening around the slender waist, drawing in more warmth.

“That depends on what the disagreement is about.” Bo Mingyan said gently, then pulled back slightly. She lifted the blanket and urged Meng Xuran to lie down. “Come in, don’t catch a cold.”

Meng Xuran’s restless heart settled steadily back into place. As she burrowed under the covers, she threatened, “If you dare ignore me, I’ll cry so hard your ears hurt!”

The moment she finished speaking, Meng Xuran blinked, and the last teardrop clinging to her lashes slid down, tracing past the teardrop mole at the corner of her eye.

Bo Mingyan brushed the tear away with her thumb, then rested her fingertip on that mole, rubbing it slowly. With a soft chuckle, she teased, “Crybaby.”

Meng Xuran swatted her hand away indignantly and retorted, “I’m not a crybaby! This is called—”

“Regular detoxification.” Bo Mingyan finished for her.

“…”

Meng Xuran huffed, shooting her a glare before sliding completely under the covers and turning away.

Bo Mingyan sat sideways on the bed, one knee drawn up with an arm resting atop it as she gazed down at Meng Xuran, the smile still lingering at her lips. The harsh white fluorescent lights downstairs caught her attention, prompting her to move toward the edge.

Behind her, Meng Xuran bolted upright, grabbing her wrist in alarm. “Where are you going?”

Bo Mingyan glanced at the clutching hand before answering evenly, “Bathroom.”

Meng Xuran gradually released her grip. Descending the stairs, Bo Mingyan made her way to the bathroom before switching off the lights downstairs.

Darkness enveloped the room.

Outside, cold moonlight filtered through the trees in the courtyard and spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting a winding ribbon of light that stopped at Bo Mingyan’s feet. Her gaze lifted to the distant mountain silhouettes—standing as quietly in the night as she was.

Unlike them, however, her world now glowed with warm amber light.

The dim radiance from upstairs spilled over the wooden steps as Bo Mingyan ascended step by step.

Meng Xuran had just burrowed back under the covers when Bo Mingyan returned. After a glance, she rolled over to face away, tugging the blanket up to hide her face.

Her cascading hair fanned across the pillow in slight disarray, a few strands dangling over the edge.

Bo Mingyan sat on the bedside for a moment before reaching out to twirl one lock around her finger, watching as the inky strands slipped slowly through her pale fingers.

“Not suffocating?” Bo Mingyan asked.

“Nope.” Despite the claim, a hand emerged to pull the covers down slightly for air.

Coincidentally, Bo Mingyan had circled to the other side of the bed. As she settled in, she looked down to meet Meng Xuran’s misty eyes.

Meng Xuran blinked in surprise before yanking the blanket back up with a grumble. “Did you fall in? Took you long enough.”

Muffled by the bedding, her voice came out low and thick with the barest tremble, each syllable dripping with displeasure.

Bo Mingyan pressed down on the blanket’s edge. “Meng Jiaojiao, what are you afraid of?”

Meng Xuran’s damp lashes fluttered faintly as she lifted her chin defiantly. “What could I possibly be afraid of?”

“That I’ll ignore you?” Bo Mingyan probed gently.

Meng Xuran pressed her lips together, rolling onto her back to ask hoarsely, “You wouldn’t dare.”

A threat devoid of conviction.

A soft chuckle escaped Bo Mingyan before she grasped the hand lying beside her, her tone solemn. “I wouldn’t.”

Never again.

They lay quietly hand-in-hand until Meng Xuran’s slightly rough voice broke the silence.

“I heard that. Saved it in my mind.”

Bo Mingyan’s fingers curled slightly.

Meng Xuran mirrored the motion, their palms shifting marginally apart. Eyes closed, she tightened her grip. “You’d better never dare.”

I heard you. I saved it. So you’d better never put me through that again.

Bo Mingyan lay back fully, threading her fingers through Meng Xuran’s to interlock them completely.

Above the glass ceiling, stars glittered like scattered diamonds across velvet blackness, cradling a distant crescent moon.

Outside, icy winds rattled branches against the roof while warm air blew steadily from the heater.

The intimacy of intertwined fingers seeped into their skin, permeating the room with warmth that flowed through their bodies and into every corner.

Bo Mingyan’s voice blended with the night. “I promised I wouldn’t ignore you, and I won’t.”

After a pause, Meng Xuran murmured, “You keep your promises well.”

“Learned from you,” Bo Mingyan said.

Meng Xuran turned her head to find Bo Mingyan wasn’t stargazing at all—

She’d been watching her the entire time.

Perhaps it was the soft glow of the mushroom nightlight, but despite her neutral expression, Bo Mingyan’s gaze was extraordinarily tender.

Her smoke-green eyes resembled a lake deep enough to drown in.

Meng Xuran froze momentarily, her pupils quivering like her heartbeat.

Unable to withstand such focused attention, Bo Mingyan licked her dry lips to break the silence. “Did you forget what you told me in-game? That day I left the faction—”

Memories flooded back.

The Blademaster faction’s creation and the First Grandmaster’s presence had ushered in their golden age. As more members joined, drama inevitably followed.

Bo Mingyan remembered—it had been her birthday. A forgotten, wretched birthday since Bo Weize’s death.

Lost documents. Sexual harassment at her tutoring job. Hearing Lin Huixin’s maternal warmth directed at another child over the phone. Then logging into the game only to overhear players gossiping about her, Meng Xuran, and the faction’s deputy leader.

As a nominal leader who delegated management to the ambitious first male recruit they’d appointed deputy, Bo Mingyan never expected rumors of a love triangle to emerge.

That day, accidentally joining the faction’s recruitment channel, she’d heard:

“Why make someone who contributes nothing the leader? Because she can seduce men?”

“What does she offer besides combat skills? Little Butterfly makes her weapons. Nameless runs the faction.”

“I heard Little Butterfly likes Nameless, but he got stolen by the leader.”

“How stupid—still forging top-tier weapons for her.”

Cotton seemed to clog Bo Mingyan’s chest. She’d thought it was anger at the slander, but even after disproving them with contribution stats, the discomfort lingered—

Especially upon seeing Meng Xuran emerge from a dungeon with Nameless.

Back then, she couldn’t name that sour feeling. Only knew it stifled her.

In a fit of pique, she quit the faction.

After transferring leadership to Little Butterfly, Bo Mingyan retreated to the Valley of a Thousand Flowers, slaughtering monsters until her character’s name turned crimson. When the battlefield cleared, she lay beneath a peach tree watching pink petals drift like the fluttering catkins on that collapsing “sky” day.

She lost track of time until a world announcement appeared:

First Blademaster Faction—Pillow Cold Stream—has disbanded.

Bo Mingyan stared at the notification for what felt like eternity before noticing a new figure under the maple tree.

Assassins could materialize soundlessly behind targets.

The white-clad avatar gradually came into view—

In all of Glory, only one assassin wore white with such arrogance.

[Xuran Butterfly Dream] crouched before her, meeting her character’s eyes. By then, Meng Xuran had changed her avatar’s silly dot eyes to peach blossom ones—

Nearly identical to her real-life brown irises.

Like the peach tree beside them.

[Xuran Butterfly Dream: Why leave?]

Gazing into those eyes, Bo Mingyan felt the imaginary wind scatter the cotton in her chest. She countered:

[Why disband?]

[Xuran Butterfly Dream: Why keep it without you? Made it for you anyway.]

A notification popped up—Nameless inviting her to a new faction. She declined, hovering over the keyboard before typing:

[Where will you go now?]

[Xuran Butterfly Dream: Wherever you go.]

[Clear daylight, haze so faint: Joining Nameless’ faction?]

After two minutes:

[Xuran Butterfly Dream: Are you? That close with him?]

The displeasure was barely detectable.

[Clear daylight, haze so faint: Not as close as you two.]

[Xuran Butterfly Dream: Not as close as YOU two.]

Bo Mingyan’s lips quirked, though her in-game character remained expressionless.

After a brief silence:

[Xuran Butterfly Dream: Bad day today?]

In-game, the white assassin lay beside the black-clad blademaster amidst colorful flowers, peach petals swirling around them as a brook gurgled past, occasional fish leaping with watery splashes.

“Today’s my birthday.”

Perhaps relaxed, Bo Mingyan used voice chat instead of text for once.

“An… unhappy one.”

The barely-there sob snagged in her throat. Bo Mingyan rarely cried, but that day, the simple question undid her. She didn’t elaborate, just bit her lip to stifle tears while wiping them away hastily.

Meng Xuran didn’t press, only kept her mic on with soft breaths to signal her presence.

By the time Bo Mingyan regained composure, emotions still ran high. After thanking her, she impulsively added:

“You said you’d go where I go… Would you really stay with me?”

Seconds—or minutes—passed.

Then Meng Xuran’s voice, processed through software yet clear as the brook beside them, flowed into her ears:

“Is that your birthday wish?”

Bo Mingyan stayed silent.

“Tch, no need to admit it. I’ll stay with you.” A pause. “Consider it your gift. Happy birthday.”

Back then, Bo Mingyan had laughed at the audacity—how could someone so cocky and naive make such promises?

Even family couldn’t guarantee lifelong companionship, let alone an online acquaintance met through fleeting pixels. Those words seemed mere comfort, nothing more.

Until now.

Everything Bo Mingyan remembered—

From the game to Weibo likes and comments, to that glimpse at Niagara Falls, to the fluttering prayer flags…

All proved:

Meng Xuran wasn’t morning dew evaporating at dawn, but an unending river flowing steadfastly toward her.

Bo Mingyan gradually reeled her thoughts back. Side by side with Meng Xuran, face-to-face just like their in-game avatars that day.

Under the nightlight’s soft glow, Meng Xuran’s lowered lashes cast faint shadows as she parted her lips slightly without speaking.

Bo Mingyan turned fully onto her side, watching her intently. “What? Can’t remember?”

Meng Xuran lifted her gaze. “Impossible.”

She remembered.

When cursing Bo Mingyan’s heartlessness, she remembered.

When wanting to give up, she remembered.

Only guilt remained—for considering breaking that promise, not just once.

Only relief—for keeping it and finally getting her wish.

“I remember everything,” Meng Xuran narrowed her eyes suddenly. “Wait—so you quit the faction because you were jealous of me and Nameless? Admit it!”

Bo Mingyan blinked slowly, her ears visibly reddening even in dim light. She began to turn away, but Meng Xuran hooked a leg over her waist to trap her.

“No escaping.” Meng Xuran forcibly turned Bo Mingyan’s face back. “Look at me and say it—was that why?”

Before Bo Mingyan could answer, Meng Xuran pieced it together: “No wonder you’d go silent whenever I dungeon-crawled with Nameless! And stop using the sickle I made you—I kept thinking it needed repairs! And you’d overfarm mobs to fill the guild bank right when he asked me to mine…”

“…”

That long-buried sourness resurfaced with the memories. Bo Mingyan’s gaze dropped briefly to Meng Xuran’s moving lips before she interjected flatly: “You recall his name quite clearly.”

Meng Xuran blinked slowly before wriggling closer. “Manman, you’re jealous.”

Bo Mingyan met her eyes again, complex emotions swirling in their depths before gradually settling.

After a lengthy silence, Bo Mingyan spoke: “Want to taste how jealous?”

With that, she leaned in to capture Meng Xuran’s lips.

Unlike their previous gentle brushes, this was fleeting yet electrifying—the mere suggestion making their mingling breaths tremble between them, resonating with pounding heartbeats.

Meng Xuran’s eyes widened briefly before she surged forward, cradling Bo Mingyan’s head to deepen the kiss, her tongue sweeping every corner with deliberate slowness.

As if truly savoring the bitterness—leisurely yet feverish.

Their breaths tangled, scalding hot.

Despite several kisses, both remained unpracticed—relying on instinct to alternate between tenderness and desperation. Teeth scraped lips, intensifying sensations beyond anything prior.

When breathlessness set in and Meng Xuran’s hands began wandering, Bo Mingyan bit her lower lip sharply. Meng Xuran stilled, her brown eyes dark with conflicting desire.

“When does it reach 100?” Bo Mingyan rasped.

The abrupt question made Meng Xuran draw back slightly. Propping her head up lazily like a cat, she drawled, “After more observation. If not for your silent coercion, we wouldn’t even be at 99 yet.”

“Meng Jiaojiao,” Bo Mingyan pinched her cheek, “are you mimicking Pinduoduo now?”

Meng Xuran denied immediately: “I’m way more generous than them.”

Bo Mingyan arched a skeptical brow. “Really?”

“Really,” Meng Xuran smiled sweetly, thumb brushing Bo Mingyan’s swollen lips as she drawled, “Let me taste you again, and I’ll give you the final hint.”

Bo Mingyan’s lashes fluttered. Her eyes darkened as tangled emotions condensed into something thicker.

Eight minutes later, Meng Xuran also broke Bo Mingyan’s lip, the metallic tang of bl00d spreading between them before she pulled away.

As Bo Mingyan caught her breath, about to lick the wound—

Meng Xuran beat her to it, her pink tongue swiping slowly across the cut.

She whispered:

“At 99, the last step needs to be clearer.”

“Only then will I take the bait.”