Two Faced Lover - Chapter 78

78: Bygone Days

Bo Mingyan wasn’t as skilled at makeup as Meng Xuran. When she tried to fill in Meng Xuran’s eyebrows, they ended up looking like two dark, squiggly earthworms.

Meng Xuran stared at her reflection, fingers hovering over her brows in disbelief. “Ah—ah! Bo Mingyan! How come when you do your own brows, they look fine, but mine turn out like… like this?!”

Bo Mingyan blinked innocently. “I’ve never done my own brows before.”

Having just done Bo Mingyan’s makeup, Meng Xuran knew full well that her natural brows were beautifully shaped—thick and perfectly arched, requiring little more than a quick trim. No need for filling.

“……”

Meng Xuran exhaled sharply, puffing out her cheeks as she glared at the two thick, uneven lines. With every wipe of the makeup remover, she shot Bo Mingyan another pointed look.

Bo Mingyan found her expression hilarious. “Next time, I’ll do better,” she promised.

Meng Xuran pursed her lips and decided to give her another chance—only for Bo Mingyan to draw two slightly thinner, but still very much earthworm-like brows. Meng Xuran practically leapt off the stool, shoving her phone into Bo Mingyan’s hands. “You’re hopeless! Go pack our things for the trip instead!”

“Hopeless?” Bo Mingyan chuckled, teasing. “One more try. I’ll get it right this time.”

“No, no, no—not even half a try!” Meng Xuran pushed her toward the bedroom door. “I’m scared of you now. If you try again, they’ll end up looking like dried-up earthworms. How am I supposed to go out like that?!”

Bo Mingyan laughed so hard her shoulders shook.

Meng Xuran, thoroughly annoyed, pinched her waist sharply.

By the time Bo Mingyan hissed and turned around, Meng Xuran had already retreated, slamming the door shut behind her.

Bo Mingyan stared at the closed door for a long moment, her lips curling even higher. Shaking her head in amusement, she glanced at the phone in her hand—the screen displayed a memo listing everything they needed for their outing.

As Bo Mingyan packed, Meng Xuran hurried through her own routine.

When it was finally time to leave, Bo Mingyan looked up to see Meng Xuran emerge from the bedroom—and froze.

This was a completely different style from her usual looks. Meng Xuran had curled her hair into loose waves and paired a high-neck sweater with tailored trousers under a wool coat. The outfit was sleek, elegant, and undeniably striking.

Clearly, someone was trying to assert her dominance as the top in this relationship.

Bo Mingyan raised an eyebrow, ducking her head to hide her smile as she slipped on her shoes.

Meng Xuran, struggling into a pair of Chelsea boots, caught the subtle tremble in Bo Mingyan’s shoulders and immediately narrowed her eyes.

Then she realized—even without heels, she was still shorter than Bo Mingyan.

No matter how hard she tried to outshine Bo Mingyan’s natural aura, the height difference alone tipped the scales back in Bo Mingyan’s favor.

After a moment’s thought, Meng Xuran kicked off the boots and pulled out a pair of heeled ankle boots instead. She checked her reflection, stretching one leg, then the other, before straightening up proudly in front of Bo Mingyan. “Stand up straight.”

Bo Mingyan couldn’t hold back her laughter this time. She obliged, standing tall—before turning her head to chuckle quietly.

“What’s so funny?!” Meng Xuran huffed.

Bo Mingyan reigned in her amusement. “Just admiring how obvious someone’s intentions are.”

“What intentions?” Meng Xuran played dumb.

Bo Mingyan didn’t press further. Knowing Meng Xuran’s prideful nature, calling her out might lead to unpredictable consequences—like canceling their plans altogether to prove her dominance right then and there.

Bo Mingyan didn’t care much about who took the lead in their relationship. To her, intimacy was about mutual pleasure, not power dynamics. Still, she didn’t mind Meng Xuran’s insistence on being the top.

It added a playful tension to their relationship.

Sometimes, a little competition made things more exciting—especially since, after several rounds, she’d discovered that when Meng Xuran lost, she became particularly sensitive. But when she fought back, she could be downright wicked.

When Bo Mingyan stayed silent, Meng Xuran arched a brow, deciding not to push the issue. She measured herself against Bo Mingyan, satisfied to find herself slightly taller now, and grinned. “Let’s go~ Time to head out!”

Bo Mingyan glanced at her high heels, then bent to retrieve a pair of flats from the shoe cabinet—ones that would still match Meng Xuran’s outfit—and tucked them into her bag.

No telling how much walking they’d do today. The little princess would definitely complain about sore feet later.

Their first stop was Wutong Gardens, where Bo Mingyan had lived as a child.

Security was tight—only residents or those accompanied by residents could enter.

Meng Xuran clicked her tongue. “Being a kid was better. You could just waltz in back then.”

Bo Mingyan opened her mouth to respond, but Meng Xuran had already turned to the guard. “We’re thinking of buying property here. We’d like to look around the villa area and see what’s available.”

The guard immediately called the property management office.

Soon, two agents arrived—a man in his thirties and a woman around twenty-five. During introductions, the male agent’s gaze lingered on Bo Mingyan a little too long.

Meng Xuran subtly shifted to block his view, shooting him a glare that said, “Keep your eyes to yourself.”

While the agents checked in with security, Meng Xuran turned back to Bo Mingyan—only to find her staring at the female agent. She huffed.

Bo Mingyan blinked. “What’s wrong?”

“See something you like?” Meng Xuran asked, voice dripping with vinegar.

Bo Mingyan followed her gaze to the agents and finally understood. “I was looking at her because she kept staring at you.”

Realizing Bo Mingyan was just as jealous, Meng Xuran instantly brightened. “You think she was staring because I look more like the top today~?”

Bo Mingyan deadpanned, “Only in appearance.”

Meng Xuran: “……”

Inside the compound, the agents led them down a central path flanked by flower beds, toward a towering fountain at the center. Water cascaded from the top, fanning out like an umbrella before splashing into the stone basin below.

“It’s actually working,” Meng Xuran remarked offhandedly. “Used to be just for show.”

The male agent asked, “When was it just for show? This fountain runs daily now.”

“When I was a kid,” Meng Xuran said simply.

“It was renovated. Now it runs every day,” he explained.

Bo Mingyan seized the moment to ask what she’d been wondering since earlier: “You came here as a child?”

“…Mhm.” Meng Xuran scratched her nose, half-serious, half-teasing. “A classmate said foreigners lived here, so a bunch of us came to gawk.”

Bo Mingyan had a vague memory of an unusually crowded day at the community playground, but it was too distant to recall clearly.

The female agent chuckled. “So now you’re back to fulfill a childhood dream?”

“Yep,” Meng Xuran played along. “Won the lottery.”

The agent actually believed her. “Really? A big win?”

Meng Xuran nodded, her fingers curling around Bo Mingyan’s. The press-on nails grazed Bo Mingyan’s palm as she added meaningfully, “A huge win. The kind people would covet.”

The touch was electric.

Little liar.

Bo Mingyan watched Meng Xuran spin her tale with quiet amusement.

The surrounding commercial district was unrecognizable to Bo Mingyan, but the compound itself had barely changed. The pond where she’d caught tadpoles with her father still existed, as did the playground that filled with children every evening.

Even the little villa her father had lost to bankruptcy and auction remained.

New owners lived there now, but the garden layout was almost identical. The swing her father had built for her, weathered beyond use, hadn’t been removed—instead, it now served as a trellis for climbing vines.

“The couple living here are teachers. Really gentle people.” Meng Xuran said.

Bo Mingyan frowned. “How do you know?”

Before Meng Xuran could answer, the male agent cut in, “Actually, the current owners aren’t teachers. This property is for sale—would you like to see it?”

Meng Xuran smoothly pivoted. “Oh, my mistake. Should we take a look, Mingyan?”

A strange feeling prickled at Bo Mingyan, but she pushed it aside and nodded. After contacting the owner, the agents led them inside with a key.

The interior had been completely renovated. All the furniture Lin Huixin had sold off was long gone, leaving no trace of the home Bo Mingyan remembered.

She’d expected to feel a pang of sorrow upon reentering, but too much time had passed—her memories were blurred, leaving only a vague sense of loss.

Meng Xuran asked the agents about the price.

“The owner’s asking for 32.6 million,” the female agent said. “But that’s negotiable.”

Meng Xuran nodded thoughtfully.

After perfunctorily viewing two more properties, they left the compound and headed toward Yangtong Alley.

Meng Xuran tapped away at her phone calculator, nearly missing a step as she walked.

Bo Mingyan steadied her. “What are you calculating?”

“Money. Ugh—” Meng Xuran stomped her foot. “Still can’t afford it.”

Still? A flicker of unease passed through Bo Mingyan, too fleeting to grasp. “You want to buy that house?”

“Just a pipe dream. Nanquan’s real estate prices are insane.” Meng Xuran sighed. “I can’t touch company funds. Even if I sold my current place and emptied my savings, I’d still be way, way short.”

“Why buy it at all?” Bo Mingyan pocketed her phone. “Watch your step.”

“Because it was your home.” Meng Xuran said softly.

Warmth flooded Bo Mingyan’s chest. “A home isn’t just a house. It’s about the people inside. If you sold your place, I’d truly have nowhere to live.”

A house without Bo Weize wasn’t a home.

But anywhere with you is.

Meng Xuran pressed her lips together, threading her fingers through Bo Mingyan’s and squeezing tightly.

The road had been rebuilt, completely transformed. Where rows of plane trees once shed their irritating fluff each season, cherry trees now stood, their new leaves fluttering in the breeze.

Meng Xuran led Bo Mingyan straight to Old Zhang’s Noodle Shop.

It was still there, run by the same couple—now older.

With the New Year holidays still ongoing, the shop was nearly empty.

The owner recognized Bo Mingyan immediately—her mixed features were hard to forget. “All grown up now! I always remembered your eyes—like glass marbles.”

“And that one,” the wife chimed in, wrapping dumplings, “used to come often too.”

“?” The owner drew a blank.

The wife whispered, “The one who cried her eyes out over lost change while eating wontons.”

The owner slapped his thigh. “Ah! The little faucet! I remember now—I told her not to worry about the money, but she ran out crying, only to come back still crying to pay me half an hour later. Girls really do change as they grow—I didn’t recognize her at all. Only my sharp-eyed wife could.”

Meng Xuran blinked. “Your memory is too good.”

She buried her face in her hands, mortified.

The couple and Bo Mingyan burst out laughing.

Amused by her embarrassment, the owners generously added fried eggs to both their bowls.

Once the laughter faded, that strange feeling crept back into Bo Mingyan’s chest. Just how often had Meng Xuran come here as a child?

“Meng Xuran,” she asked, “why didn’t you mention yesterday that you used to eat here too?”

Meng Xuran leisurely ate the egg whites before dumping the yolks into Bo Mingyan’s bowl. “Do I have to report everything?”

Bo Mingyan hesitated, rephrasing. “Did your grandmother live nearby?”

That was the only explanation she could think of for Meng Xuran frequenting the area.

“Not really. But my elementary school was close—the experimental school past Little Yangtong Alley.” Meng Xuran looked up, eyes curving. “Want to check it out later? Senior.”

Bo Mingyan’s chopsticks stilled, noodles slipping back into the bowl.

The realization hit her like a wave.

She’d thought their connection began with online gaming—never imagining it stretched back further. While she’d been drawing at home, Meng Xuran might have been playing in the same compound. While she swept leaves under the wisteria trellis at school, Meng Xuran could have been walking through the gates.

The shock was so great that Bo Mingyan didn’t even register the oddity—Meng Xuran had known she’d lived in Wutong Gardens and attended that school, yet hadn’t asked during their trip planning.

The elementary school was closed for the holidays, so they walked along the perimeter fence.

“Fu Junxue once showed me your childhood photos,” Bo Mingyan began, only for Meng Xuran to cut in eagerly, “What photos?!”

“The ones where you looked like a New Year’s painting—two little buns, a bright red padded jacket.”

“My dignity is gone.” Meng Xuran covered her face as if that would make her disappear.

Bo Mingyan pulled her hands away, smiling. “What’s the big deal? I wouldn’t laugh at you.”

Meng Xuran opened her mouth, then closed it.

Bo Mingyan resumed her earlier thought. “The school isn’t that big. It’s strange I have no memory of us being there together.”

“You were in fifth grade when I was in first. Different buildings—no overlap is normal.” Meng Xuran walked to the right side of the fence, pointing through the bars at a classroom. “Even art classes were separate. Yours were upstairs, mine downstairs.”

Grades 1-3 were on the lower floors, 4-6 above.

Bo Mingyan arched a brow. “But you remember me.”

“You were the only mixed kid in school.” Meng Xuran recited her prepared excuse.

“……”

“Really no impression at all?” Meng Xuran pressed.

Bo Mingyan shook her head. “Did we ever interact?”

Meng Xuran scoffed. “Forgot.”

“……”

At the sports field, Bo Mingyan gazed through the fence at the distant podium and suddenly said, “In fifth grade, I tied red scarves for the first-graders joining the Young Pioneers. All the other kids stood tall, but mine kept her head down. After I finished, she thanked me and said something else—too quiet to hear. Later, I’d wonder what it was.”

A moment passed before Meng Xuran murmured, “She said, ‘Big sister, I really like you.'”

Her clear voice, like an echo across time, merged with the memory of that childish whisper, carried on the wind into Bo Mingyan’s ears.

This trip had brought too many surprises—their connection ran deeper than she’d ever imagined.

Meng Xuran tapped her toe against the ground, backtracking. “Just a guess.”

Bo Mingyan hummed, saying nothing.

They circled back to their car and drove to Bo Mingyan’s middle school.

On the way, Bo Mingyan peeled an orange and handed it to Meng Xuran, casually asking, “Why wouldn’t you look up when I tied your scarf?”

“Who could look up when you’re that close?” Meng Xuran answered without thinking.

Caught.

Bo Mingyan chuckled. “Why not?”

Meng Xuran belatedly realized she’d been tricked. Instead of answering, she ate a segment and pouted. “You set me up.”

“You lied first,” Bo Mingyan mused. “Why not admit it was you?”

She couldn’t shake the feeling that while uncovering their shared past delighted her, it seemed to weigh on Meng Xuran.

Meng Xuran ate the orange in silence. Bo Mingyan didn’t push.

They reached the street of Bo Mingyan’s old middle school in minutes. Parking in a nearby lot, they walked out.

“Not long after you left, this area was redeveloped into a Republic-era themed street. Sixth Middle merged with Third Middle—the senior center over there used to be Sixth Middle. Third Middle is another twenty minutes ahead,” Meng Xuran explained. “Want to see?”

Bo Mingyan had no fondness for middle school—it was where she’d first witnessed the complexities of human nature, where cruelty seemed amplified in those still-forming minds.

“No need,” she said. “Let’s get bubble tea and walk the themed street instead.”

Meng Xuran brightened instantly.

The Republic-era street ran along Nanquan’s river, a network of lanes lined with vintage-style buildings, their signs hanging high, exuding old-world charm.

As they wandered, Meng Xuran—struggling in her heels—paused to eat ice cream on a bench. “No heels and I’m shorter than you. Heels and my feet hurt. Why am I like this?”

Bo Mingyan teased, “Who told you to be so vain?”

“Vanity is important!” Meng Xuran lifted her chin.

“Then choose: vanity or comfort.” Bo Mingyan pulled the flats from her bag.

Meng Xuran gaped. “You carried these all day?”

“Mhm.” Bo Mingyan said. “In case you got tired.”

This wasn’t a choice between vanity and shoes.

It was between vanity and Bo Mingyan’s thoughtfulness.

No contest.

Meng Xuran turned away from the crowd, swapping her heels for flats. “I’ll carry them.”

“After your ice cream,” Bo Mingyan said, packing the heels away.

By the time she finished, Bo Mingyan had already shouldered the bag.

Meng Xuran had taken countless photos. At a print shop, Bo Mingyan had them developed instantly. She let Meng Xuran pick one.

Meng Xuran chose a shot of their clasped hands, matching watches glinting. Bo Mingyan selected one where they’d drawn hearts with sparklers, slipping both behind transparent phone cases.

A unique take on a couple cases—subtle yet unmistakable.

While buying the cases earlier, Meng Xuran had offhandedly complained that most couple phone cases were either tacky or uninspired—and who knew if you’d even match your partner’s?

Yet Bo Mingyan had remembered and crafted something one-of-a-kind.

Overwhelmed, Meng Xuran stuffed both phones into her pocket, dragging Bo Mingyan into a secluded alley. Pushing her against the wall, she kissed her fiercely.

Amidst the distant chatter, their breaths and whispers intertwined. Meng Xuran sucked Bo Mingyan’s lower lip between her teeth, restraining herself to slow, teasing nips before deepening the kiss.

Bo Mingyan’s warm hands slid to Meng Xuran’s nape just as Meng Xuran undid the buttons of her dress. A warning pinch to Meng Xuran’s earlobe made her pull back slightly, eyes dark with desire.

She dotted kisses along Bo Mingyan’s jaw, nipping at her collarbone—

Then a startled “Oh!” interrupted them.

A girl selling roses gaped before backing away. “Sorry, sorry! Don’t mind me!”

As if we could continue now.

But they had to stop—another minute, and Meng Xuran might’ve been tempted to take things further right there.

After fixing Bo Mingyan’s dress, Meng Xuran asked, “You really never dated before?”

Bo Mingyan shook her head. “No. Why?”

“You’re too good at this!” Meng Xuran pulled out their phones, tracing the cases.

Bo Mingyan shrugged. “Haven’t eaten pork, but seen pigs run.”

“Oh! I’m telling Lu Yo you called her a pig.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“…Damn.”

Bo Mingyan chuckled.

Brushing off Bo Mingyan’s clothes, Meng Xuran decided her lack of experience was entirely Gu Miao and Fu Junxue’s fault.

Outside, they ran into the rose seller again. “Buy one, get one free! Nine yuan each—an apology for earlier. Wishing you eternal love~”

Clever girl.

Bo Mingyan bought two, handing them to Meng Xuran. “Today’s flowers.”

“She definitely saw me pin you against the wall and thought I should pay. But someone beat me to it.” Meng Xuran twirled the roses. “Fine, I’ll let you have this one.”

Remembering the alley, Bo Mingyan warned, “No more of that outside.”

“Of what?” Meng Xuran feigned ignorance.

“Don’t start something we can’t finish in public.”

“Oh.” Meng Xuran scraped her nails over Bo Mingyan’s palm. “So not outside is fine?”

Bo Mingyan, not thinking, agreed.

Meng Xuran nodded solemnly.

Dinner was at a Japanese restaurant famed for its plum wine. Bo Mingyan, driving, abstained while Meng Xuran enjoyed two bottles to take home.

On the drive back, perhaps tipsy, Meng Xuran asked to stop by the river for air.

The area was deserted, especially during the holidays.

Walking slowly, Meng Xuran doodled nonsense on Bo Mingyan’s palm as she recounted the day. “Fu Junxue is awful—showing you my ugly photos! And you didn’t save them, right?”

“No.”

“Good.” Meng Xuran huffed. “I’m sending her childhood pee-pants photos to her wife!”

Bo Mingyan defended, “She was trying to show how much you’d changed. She meant to show me your grown-up photos but got distracted. The one I saw wasn’t ugly—just funny. Like a New Year’s painting forced into existence.”

Meng Xuran’s pout softened. “It was forced. I cried through three makeup sessions, but Mom wouldn’t give up.”

Remembering the noodle shop, she groaned. “Why did the owner have to remember that time? I hadn’t been there in years! And of all moments, that’s the one she recalls?”

Bo Mingyan asked, amused, “What should she remember?”

“Like the time my face alone brought in a crowd of kids to eat there. Free advertising!”

If this weren’t her girlfriend, Bo Mingyan might’ve called that delusional.

But from Meng Xuran, it was just… Meng Xuran.

After a long walk, Bo Mingyan asked, “Ready to head back?”

Meng Xuran nodded. She climbed onto a higher step, balancing along the edge while Bo Mingyan held her hand below.

Near the car, Meng Xuran stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Bo Mingyan turned.

Meng Xuran draped her arms over Bo Mingyan’s shoulders, leaning in. “Tired.”

Without warning, she hooked a leg around Bo Mingyan’s waist. Bo Mingyan caught her instinctively, and Meng Xuran clung like a koala.

“Spoiled brat.” Bo Mingyan said, adjusting her grip.

Meng Xuran nuzzled her ear. “Don’t you like it?”

Bo Mingyan’s breath hitched. “I do.”

After a pause, Meng Xuran whispered, “Manman.”

“Hm?”

At the car, Bo Mingyan set her down. Inside, Meng Xuran fiddled with her press-ons, unusually subdued.

“What is it?” Bo Mingyan asked gently.

“Can we skip tomorrow?” Meng Xuran’s voice was small.

Their plan was to visit Meng Xuran’s childhood home and schools.

“Okay,” Bo Mingyan said. “But tell me why.”

Meng Xuran covered half her face. “I might… say too much about the past. Who knows what other embarrassing stories people remember? You’ll find out even more humiliating things.”

“……”

Bo Mingyan swallowed, realizing how much Meng Xuran feared tarnishing her image. “I don’t think those are embarrassing.”

“Today was just the mild stuff.” Meng Xuran hid fully behind her hands. “Manman, I’m… scared.”

Bo Mingyan softened. “Of what?”

“That if you see how unlikable I was, you’ll… stop liking me.”

Bo Mingyan took her hands. “You once told me you’d love every side of me because it’s me.”

“I feel the same.” Bo Mingyan squeezed her fingers. “I want to know what you missed. To me, Meng Xuran has no shameful past.”

She’d once found excessive affection cringeworthy—but if it reassured Meng Xuran, she’d say it all.

A breeze slipped into the car, cool against their skin—yet Meng Xuran’s ears burned.

As her hands lowered, her shimmering eyes reflected Bo Mingyan’s smile—warm in a way that made her chest ache.

With a soft sound, Meng Xuran kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips—before reaching for the window controls.

Darkness enveloped them as the glass rose, sealing out the world.

The air grew thick, every sound magnified in the stillness.

Meng Xuran’s scent intensified as she climbed into Bo Mingyan’s lap, her kisses trailing to Bo Mingyan’s ear, leaving it damp.

One hand cradled Bo Mingyan’s face—two press-ons already discarded—while the other found the glove compartment.

Her voice was a siren’s call:

“You’ll love me no matter what?”

“You said anywhere not outside is fine.”

“A car doesn’t count as outside, right?”

Bo Mingyan didn’t say anything. She put her arm around Meng Xuran’s waist, turned the car key, turned off the engine, and lit another fire.