Two Faced Lover - Chapter 7

7: Ginger Candy
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‎As soon as Meng Xuran left, Ava asked, “What did Director Meng mean by that just now? It sounded kinda weird. Oh no, is she really going to find ways to bully you from now on?”
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‎Bo Mingyan didn’t respond. She realized Meng Xuran had the quintessential traits of an artist—multifaceted and unpredictable, making it hard to discern her true thoughts.
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‎The things she had just said, along with their conversation in the bathroom, left Bo Mingyan unsure whether there was a hidden meaning behind them.
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‎Liu Yang rubbed his head and nudged Ava with his shoulder. “Your emotional intelligence is seriously lacking.”
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‎Only then did Ava catch the hint. Her face scrunched up in realization, and she quickly apologized, “Little Yan, I’m so sorry! I didn’t expect Director Meng to be there. My big mouth really—”
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‎Bo Mingyan snapped out of her thoughts. “It’s fine. It’s not a big deal anyway.”
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‎If it were anyone else, they might’ve gotten angry and shown it. But Bo Mingyan didn’t lose her temper at all—instead, she even comforted Ava.
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‎Liu Yang sighed. “Ms. Bo really has such a good personality.”
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‎Bo Mingyan gave a faint smile but neither confirmed nor denied it. She sat back down at her desk and turned to her computer.
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‎On the darkened screen, she could vaguely make out her own reflection—calm and expressionless.
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‎For Bo Mingyan, the age of thirteen was like a watershed moment.
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‎Before that, spoiled by Bo Weize’s doting and blessed with striking looks, her personality had been as bold and unrestrained as her appearance.
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‎But after Bo Weize passed away, Lin Huixin—who had always been indifferent toward her—became even colder, to the point where she no longer acted like a mother should.
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‎Without that protective shelter, Bo Mingyan’s edges were gradually worn down.
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‎She learned to suppress her temper, to handle things gently, just to avoid unnecessary trouble.
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‎In the past, many had called her arrogant and off-putting. Later, she was often praised for being “good.”
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‎Come to think of it, the first person to call her “good” was Meng Xuran.
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‎After their late-night walk and chat, Meng Xuran, who was preparing for the campus Top Ten Singers competition, would often call to sing for Fu Junxue and Bo Mingyan.
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‎Meng Xuran had a unique voice—like a clear spring flowing over gravel, crisp and pleasant. But at the time, Fu Junxue was swamped with work. After listening twice, she told Meng Xuran to stop.
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‎Perhaps too accustomed to negative feedback, Meng Xuran began to deeply doubt her singing ability. “Is it really that bad? Can you not even stand to listen?”
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‎”It’s fine, it’s fine.” Fu Junxue nudged Bo Mingyan. “Help me out here. Comfort this little princess too.”
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‎Bo Mingyan: “It’s quite—”
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‎”You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.” Meng Xuran, sharp-eared, instantly flared up like a firecracker. “I won’t sing for you guys ever again.”
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‎With that, her emotions spiraled, and she burst into tears before hanging up.
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‎Fu Junxue grumbled that Meng Xuran had been spoiled rotten by her family. Bo Mingyan smiled but didn’t comment.
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‎The two sisters had fought countless times since childhood, only to make up the next day. This time was no different—they were back to chatting on the phone as usual.
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‎Fu Junxue handed the phone to Bo Mingyan. “She wants to talk to you alone.”
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‎Taking the phone, Bo Mingyan heard Meng Xuran’s voice, thick with tears. “Sister, I’m sorry about last time. Please don’t be mad, okay?”
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‎Bo Mingyan: “It’s fine. I’m not mad.”
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‎Meng Xuran: “Liar.”
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‎It was a hollow pleasantry—just to avoid trouble. No one would be happy after being lashed out at for no reason. But both sisters had helped Bo Mingyan before, so she didn’t have the right to hold a grudge over something so trivial.
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‎Besides, holding a grudge would only create more unnecessary interpersonal complications.
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‎Bo Mingyan didn’t argue. Instead, she softened her voice and asked, “Then, will you sing for me again?”
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‎”You… still want to hear me sing?” Meng Xuran paused, then asked pitifully, “If I do, will you still praise me?”
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‎Amused by her response, Bo Mingyan teased, “I won’t lie to make you feel better.”
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‎”…” Meng Xuran sniffled.
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‎Bo Mingyan chuckled. “I’ve always meant it. If you sing well, I’ll praise you.”
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‎After a brief silence, Bo Mingyan heard Meng Xuran sniffle twice before murmuring wistfully, “How are you so good?”
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‎At that moment, Bo Mingyan was struck by a sudden realization.
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‎In Meng Xuran’s heart, she was incomparably good.
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‎And from then on, Bo Mingyan’s gentleness occasionally carried a hint of warmth.
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‎More and more people praised her, but that feeling never came again.
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‎Dinner was a disappointment. After one bite, Bo Mingyan tossed the entire takeout into the trash.
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‎Hu Jingjing, returning from reheating her meal, saw this and couldn’t help asking, “Sister Mingyan, was the food not to your taste?”
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‎”The rice was spoiled.” Bo Mingyan tore open a packet of oatmeal and poured it into a cup. “And the vegetables seemed undercooked.”
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‎”Oh my god.” Hu Jingjing sighed. “I don’t even dare order takeout anymore. Last time, one place gave me acute gastroenteritis.”
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‎Bo Mingyan’s stomach was sensitive too. On her very first day in the U.S., she’d gotten acute gastroenteritis—she knew the pain all too well. “That’s miserable.”
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‎”Right? So painful. Bringing homemade food is way better.” Hu Jingjing opened her lunchbox. “Then what are you eating, Sister Mingyan?”
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‎Bo Mingyan stood up with her cup. “Not really hungry. Just some oatmeal is fine.”
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‎The break room had a fridge and two microwaves, crowded with people chatting while waiting for their meals to heat up. The air was thick with the smell of food.
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‎Only Meng Xuran’s assistant, Lu Shan, was by the water dispenser. As Bo Mingyan walked over, she glanced at the cup in Lu Shan’s hand—it was soy milk.
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‎”63.” someone asked Lu Shan, “Is that soy milk for you or her?”
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‎”What do you think?” Lu Shan sighed. “The takeout didn’t seem to suit her taste again. She barely took two bites before giving up.”
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‎Once her oatmeal was ready, Bo Mingyan didn’t linger. The murmurs about Meng Xuran being delicate and spoiled gradually faded.
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‎After hearing from Hu Jingjing that there was a 24-hour supermarket nearby, Bo Mingyan decided she’d start cooking her own meals too.
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‎She finished work before nine and went to the supermarket with Hu Jingjing to buy groceries.
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‎Just as she reached the neighborhood entrance, her phone rang—a call from Lin Huixin.
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‎Raindrops began to fall just as Lin Huixin’s voice reached her ears. “Your old number’s disconnected. Did you change it?”
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‎Bo Mingyan gave a noncommittal “Mm” not offering the new number.
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‎After a brief silence, Lin Huixin said, “Today is Chencheng’s birthday. He—”
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‎Bo Mingyan’s eyes turned icy behind her rain-spattered glasses. “Can you not bring him up?”
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‎Lin Huixin paused. “It’s been so long since that happened. He was still young back then—”
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‎”If you called just to talk about this, I’m hanging up.”
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‎Bo Mingyan moved the phone away from her ear, but Lin Huixin’s voice grew urgent.
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‎”I wanted to ask how much longer you’ll stay in the U.S. It’s not easy for a girl to be alone abroad. Maybe—”
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‎”Now you’re worried about me being alone overseas?” Bo Mingyan couldn’t hold back, her voice rising with emotion.
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‎”I know you resent me.” Lin Huixin explained helplessly. “But back then, I had no choice.”
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‎Bo Mingyan let out a laugh, sharp with sarcasm. “What kind of ‘no choice’?”
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‎Lin Huixin fell silent.
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‎It was always like this. To this day, Bo Mingyan still didn’t know what kind of “no choice” her mother had faced. All she knew was that, to marry He Ying, Lin Huixin had exiled her abroad for thirteen years.
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‎Sensing her emotions spiraling out of control, Bo Mingyan took a deep breath and reined them in. When she spoke again, her voice was flat. “Don’t worry about me.”
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‎Belated concern was like a winter fan or a summer coat—pointless and laughable.
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‎The raindrops, now the size of beans, formed threads that hit the ground and kicked up mist.
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‎Bo Mingyan hung up and quickened her pace, groceries in hand.
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‎The rain pouring over her head washed away the weight of her dark mood.
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‎By the time she stepped into the elevator, she had wiped her glasses clean and composed herself.
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‎She unlocked the door to find the TV on in the living room, playing a popular drama. Meng Xuran, earbuds in, was curled up on the sofa with her tablet.
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‎Over the TV’s audio, Meng Xuran’s clear voice stood out. “The scrambled eggs were too eggy, the shredded potatoes were cut like fries and too crunchy, and who cuts peppers into slices for pepper pork? … I’m not being picky! And even if I am, it’s Dad’s fault for spoiling me!”
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‎Bo Mingyan bent to change her shoes, the chill from the AC making her shiver.
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‎When she looked up, her eyes met Meng Xuran’s, who had just turned after ending the call.
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‎”You—you didn’t bring an umbrella?” Meng Xuran turned off the AC, her gaze dropping to the groceries in Bo Mingyan’s hand. “You went grocery shopping in the rain?”
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‎The barrage of questions left Bo Mingyan momentarily dazed. After a beat, she replied with a faint “Mm” and headed to the kitchen.
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‎In the sink sat the enamel pot Meng Xuran had used to make porridge that morning—though it looked more like rice now.
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‎It suddenly struck Bo Mingyan that she hadn’t bought any pots, pans, or utensils since returning to China.
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‎”You’re cooking now?” Meng Xuran followed her. “Aren’t you going to shower first?”
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‎Cooking would leave her smelling of grease, meaning she’d have to shower again. Not wanting to explain, Bo Mingyan just hummed in response.
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‎Meng Xuran pressed her lips together. “You’ll catch a cold.”
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‎Bo Mingyan paused mid-motion. “Later. Can I borrow your pot?”
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‎”Sure.” Meng Xuran was surprisingly accommodating. “There are bowls and chopsticks in the cabinet—all new. Take whatever you need.”
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‎”Thanks.” After a moment’s thought, Bo Mingyan took two Lock & Lock containers, a spoon, and a pair of chopsticks. “If we’re sharing the pot, I’ll pay half. Plus these—how much should I transfer you?”
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‎Meng Xuran: “No need.”
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‎Bo Mingyan: “I can’t take advantage of you.”
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‎Meng Xuran’s eyes trailed after Bo Mingyan, lingering on the way her damp clothes clung to her slender frame. She lowered her gaze. “At this rate, if you don’t change into dry clothes soon, I’ll be the one taking advantage of you.”
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‎Bo Mingyan froze, instinctively crossing her arms over her chest as she glanced at Meng Xuran. The latter had her head down, a few strands of hair obscuring her slightly flustered expression.
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‎Relaxing slightly, Bo Mingyan decided to take the advice and change first.
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‎As she stepped out of the kitchen, she paused and turned back. “I’m making porridge later. Want some?”
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‎Remembering how Bo Mingyan had refused her porridge that morning, Meng Xuran mimicked her tone. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”
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‎Right on cue, her stomach growled.
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‎The air stilled. Their eyes met.
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‎A faint blush spread from Meng Xuran’s cheeks to her ears. She looked up, her gaze skimming over Bo Mingyan’s slightly parted lips, then abruptly shut the kitchen door—cutting off their eye contact.
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‎Bo Mingyan stood frozen, staring at the door for two full seconds before pressing a hand to her stomach.
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‎She never managed to say, “That was my stomach.”
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‎After changing into dry clothes, she returned to the kitchen.
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‎The pot in the sink had been washed and set aside. The electric kettle was set to “keep warm” A peeled onion sat on the counter, next to a single wrapped piece of ginger candy.
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‎The person who had done all this was already gone.
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‎Back when Bo Weize was alive, Bo Mingyan had never been caught in the rain. Later, she got used to it—but this was the first time someone had boiled water for her and left ginger candy.
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‎She pocketed the candy.
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‎Suddenly, she felt like that peeled onion on the counter.