Two Faced Lover - Chapter 81

81: Fate

When Meng Xuran said those words, memories of their fleeting encounters surged into Bo Mingyan’s mind like a tidal wave.

Mixed with indescribable emotions, the impact was overwhelming, leaving Bo Mingyan blank for several seconds.

Both cakes had been given to the same person—and that person was now standing beside her, fingers intertwined with hers, their hearts connected.

Fate truly is a mysterious thing.

Bo Mingyan felt that she and Meng Xuran were like a Möbius strip, their intersecting point beginning when she passed by Heyong Alley and casually helped a certain pitiful soul.

Later, that pitiful soul from many years ago grew resilient over time.

Just like her, when she was at her most vulnerable, that person reached out a helping hand.

Just like her, when she was on the brink of death, that person pulled her back.

The river of time flows ceaselessly, and no matter how many twists and turns life takes, those destined to cross paths will always meet again.

The world is vast—so vast that even family members confined to a tiny phone screen struggle to meet face-to-face.

Yet the world is also small—so small that the bond between strangers who shared a fleeting connection in childhood can deepen and endure.

Unnoticed, the sky darkened, and streetlights flickered on one by one along the road. Meng Xuran looked up at Bo Mingyan, her eyes reflecting the lamplight, sparkling like stars.

Within those points of light, Bo Mingyan’s figure was mirrored.

Bo Mingyan steadied her tangled emotions, released Meng Xuran’s hand, then took two steps forward and wrapped her arms around her in an embrace.

From the shock of forgetting how to breathe to the joy of her chest heaving uncontrollably, Bo Mingyan needed no words—this single embrace was enough to send Meng Xuran’s heartbeat and breath into disarray.

Happiness threatened to overflow, yet the tip of her nose grew increasingly sore. Meng Xuran’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, blurring her vision.

Just like that summer afternoon, when she had suffocated in the car, the asphalt road outside the windshield shimmering with heatwaves. After staring for who knows how long, her eyes blurred with sweat and tears, the world fading into monochrome. She felt weightless, drifting toward a dark abyss—until she saw Bo Mingyan.

Bo Mingyan, standing in the sunlight, had firmly stepped into her world, bringing light with her.

Bo Mingyan’s soft fingertips brushed Meng Xuran’s cheeks before her palm cradled the back of her head as she leaned in for a kiss.

Meng Xuran’s long lashes fluttered, her eyes closing as a tear trailed down her beauty mark.

Before their hike, Bo Mingyan had eaten candy—her lips were soft, still sweet with the lingering taste of milk toffee.

Meng Xuran thought of those two cream cakes: soft, sweet, rich, and velvety.

Their aftertaste lingered in her heart, unforgettable.

The day had been sunny, but by evening, the temperature dropped, and rain began to fall.

At first, the two of them—lost in their own world, hands clasped, wandering aimlessly and chatting idly—barely noticed the drizzle.

Only when the rain grew heavier did they snap back to reality.

Meng Xuran, ever the delicate one, had no interest in continuing their stroll once the rain started.

Remembering the plum wine at home and the delicious sushi from the Japanese restaurant they’d visited days prior, they decided to grab takeout before heading back.

After returning, showering, and changing into comfortable loungewear, Bo Mingyan arranged the sushi and sashimi on plates, squeezing wasabi and soy sauce into small dishes on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

Not keen on dining with cat hair as garnish, Meng Xuran locked Xiaoman in the bedroom before retrieving the plum wine she’d bought earlier, carrying two glasses over. “No need to drive tonight—can we drink?”

Bo Mingyan, flipping through movies on the TV, glanced casually at the plum wine Meng Xuran set down. The glazed ceramic bottle was beautiful, and she picked it up for a closer look, noting the lack of alcohol percentage on the label. “What’s the alcohol content on this?”

“Forgot.” Meng Xuran blinked, her eyes darting playfully. “Not high. I had some before and felt nothing.”

Bo Mingyan nodded, taking her at her word.

Meng Xuran selected a film, and the two ate and drank as they watched. The plum wine was delicious, almost like juice, and every time Bo Mingyan finished her glass, Meng Xuran promptly refilled it. Distracted by the movie, Bo Mingyan didn’t pay much attention.

The protagonist of the film was far from perfect, having made many mistakes but gradually making amends.

Bo Mingyan thought of something and asked, “When you said you were worried I wouldn’t like your ‘dark history,’ were you talking about reporting that strict teacher in middle school?”

“That was just one incident. There are many, many more.” Meng Xuran popped a piece of sushi into her mouth, only to tear up from the wasabi. As she reached for her glass of water, her foot slipped, sending her tumbling to the floor.

“The floor’s cold.” Bo Mingyan tried to pull her up but found her head swimming, the alcohol hitting her hard. She instinctively pressed a hand to her forehead.

“The floor’s heated—not cold.” Meng Xuran twisted around, resting her head on Bo Mingyan’s lap and studying her for a moment before giggling. “Manman, are you drunk?”

“You said you felt nothing when you drank this.” Bo Mingyan rubbed her temples. “Why does it feel so strong to me?”

“Exactly.” Meng Xuran grinned, her scheme successful. “I have a high tolerance—did you forget?”

Bo Mingyan had indeed forgotten. “Why are you trying to get me drunk on purpose?”

Meng Xuran explained, “So if you get curious about my past again and ask about my dark history, you’ll black out and forget by tomorrow.”

Bo Mingyan asked, “What if I still remember?”

Meng Xuran recalled the last time someone hadn’t blacked out and promptly poured Bo Mingyan another full glass from the remaining bottle of plum wine. “Then it wasn’t enough. Here, have some more.”

“…”

Bo Mingyan’s lips curved as she obediently drank, teasing Meng Xuran, “What if I still remember after this?”

Meng Xuran poked the soft flesh of her thigh. “Then… then I’ll use a little magic. Can you forget, please?”

With that, she chanted a playful “hocus pocus.” Bo Mingyan turned her head away, laughing softly for a long time.

By the time the bottle of plum wine was empty, Bo Mingyan’s mind was barely functional. She asked Meng Xuran a few questions, but shortly after, she couldn’t remember what they were.

Meng Xuran, on the other hand, rambled on at length—and Bo Mingyan remembered every word.

After that day, Meng Xuran had been taken home by Meng Yao. Her health was fragile, and her personality grew gloomy. She often dreamed of being leashed like a dog, envying the cats that ran freely outside. She also frequently dreamed of suffocating in a hot, enclosed space.

She hated her grandmother, who had directly caused her suffering, and she resented her older sister, who had indirectly subjected her to it all.

Why could her sister live with their parents? Why hadn’t her sister endured the same treatment when their grandmother took care of her?

She threw tantrums daily, teetering on the edge of madness. Her heart was filled with suppressed emotions, and her body could barely contain them.

She refused to see her grandmother—the sight of her made Meng Xuran want to die—so the old woman lived alone in her house for years until she fell and was left half-paralyzed.

She also avoided her sister, so Fu Junxue, who had received little affection herself, left to study abroad not long after Meng Xuran returned home.

It wasn’t until she underwent psychological intervention that Meng Xuran gradually improved.

As she grew older and learned more about Bo Mingyan, Meng Xuran increasingly despised her past self. She strove to become a better person, though she knew her past misdeeds could never be erased.

Meng Xuran whispered, “Am I… terrible?”

After a moment of silence, Bo Mingyan ruffled her hair. Instead of judging Meng Xuran’s past actions, she simply said, “This isn’t ‘dark history.’ It’s just human nature.”

“As humans with emotions and desires, none of us can be perfect.”

Meng Xuran looked up.

Her peach-blossom eyes were glazed with unshed tears. She tried to blink them away, widening her eyes stubbornly.

Meng Xuran had always cried freely—Bo Mingyan had never seen her like this before. Long ago, when she’d shared an apartment with Fu Junxue, Bo Mingyan had heard her mention once that if Meng Xuran could cry about something, it wasn’t a big deal. The real concern was when she wanted to cry but held back.

Bo Mingyan felt as if she were seeing that little girl again—the one with the watermelon-cut hair, curled into a tiny ball, like a dying fish.

She leaned down, brushing her thumb over the reddened corner of Meng Xuran’s eye.

“My Meng Jiaojiao, how strong did you have to be to become the radiant little sun you are today?”

There was no disgust, no rejection—only heartache, so overwhelming it was hard to breathe. Bo Mingyan gazed at Meng Xuran quietly before lowering her head to kiss her beauty mark softly, then her cheeks, then her lips.

Meng Xuran’s heart itched unbearably under her touch. She wrapped her arms around Bo Mingyan’s neck, responding deeply.

In the heat of their kiss, the spiciness of wasabi, the saltiness of tears, and indescribable emotions mingled together.

Meng Xuran felt drunk too—her mind empty, her eyes and heart filled only with Manman. But drunk Manman was nothing like her. Meng Xuran let herself be led into the bedroom, startling Xiaoman away.

Pinned against the door, her feet barely touching the ground, she could hardly breathe.

Bo Mingyan’s sharp features contrasted with her gentle nature, but tonight was different.

As if she wanted to share every emotion with Meng Xuran, as if she wanted to savor her vitality, as if she needed Meng Xuran to feel her presence—

Her kisses were heavy.

Meng Xuran’s lips parted slightly as soft gasps escaped her. Arching her back, she tilted her head up, the line of her jaw taut.

As her voice faded, the warm yellow lights in the room flickered on—set to nighttime mode, the glow was dim but enough to illuminate their entwined figures.

Meng Xuran blinked, her vision blurry with tears. As one slid down her flushed cheek, her sight cleared.

The mirror on the ceiling reflected their passionate embrace. Though slightly blurred by distance, it was unmistakable—her legs hooked over Bo Mingyan’s shoulders, dangling in midair.

Meng Xuran’s mind blanked. She clenched her teeth, refusing to make a sound.

The room fell into brief silence, broken only by the hum of the air conditioner and the patter of rain outside.

The lights dimmed again.

Bo Mingyan’s voice, hoarse and low, broke the quiet. “Meng Jiaojiao, isn’t your throat uncomfortable?”

As she spoke, her fingers curled, circling deliberately.

Meng Xuran shuddered violently, slapping a hand over her mouth—but a muffled moan escaped anyway.

“Your throat wants to make noise. Your girlfriend wants to hear it.” Bo Mingyan pried her hand away, meeting her peach-blossom eyes, now hazy with desire. “You should let it out.”

These were the exact words Meng Xuran had once said to her. Now, Bo Mingyan returned them in full.

As if to encourage her, Bo Mingyan moved even more deftly.

Meng Xuran gasped, her brows knitting together as she whimpered, “You’re… retaliating!”

Her legs, lacking support, felt like they might give out.

Bo Mingyan caught her, chuckling softly. “Not at all.”

Meng Xuran scoffed between breaths, clearly unconvinced.

Bo Mingyan let it slide, asking instead, “Will you get me drunk again?”

“…Yes—ah—” Meng Xuran’s words dissolved into a moan.

“Meng Jiaojiao.” Bo Mingyan kissed her tears and beauty mark. “Answer me.”

“Meng Jiaojiao, you installed a voice-activated light. Why aren’t you using it?” Bo Mingyan nipped at her lips, her movements tender.

She kissed Meng Xuran’s earlobe, murmuring, “No sound?”

Meng Xuran’s eyes fluttered, her voice breaking.

“Ugh, you’re… so annoying~!” Meng Xuran’s tearful complaint tickled Bo Mingyan’s ears.

It only fueled Bo Mingyan’s mischief. “Don’t you like it?”

Meng Xuran gritted her teeth, biting Bo Mingyan’s ear. “I do.”

If she didn’t get an answer, Bo Mingyan would ask again.

Each time the room darkened, it would soon brighten anew—over and over, leaving no room for escape.

The usually quiet one relentlessly teased the usually talkative one into speaking.

Meng Xuran was convinced Bo Mingyan was doing this on purpose. She ground her teeth, threatening, “Bo Manman! D-don’t push your luck! I’ll get you back for this!”

“If you’ve got the energy, try.” Bo Mingyan countered. “You still haven’t answered—will you get me drunk again?”

Next time…

Meng Xuran thought, as long as she didn’t answer, there would be a next time.

The voice-activated light stayed on almost continuously.

The dim, warm glow bathed the room in an intimate haze, blending with the air conditioner’s warmth. Outside, the late-winter chill lingered, but inside, it was like spring—

Warm, slightly damp after the rain.

Dreams took root, blossoming into obsession.

They’d been too wild the night before. The next morning, Bo Mingyan’s head felt like it was filled with lead—dizzy and heavy. The instigator, Meng Xuran, wasn’t faring much better, her back and hips aching as she buried her face in the pillow, whining about not wanting to get up.

They lazed in bed for ages, nearly calling in sick—but work couldn’t wait. Rushing to get ready, they barely made it on time.

The office was buzzing post-holiday, everyone still in vacation mode, chattering about New Year’s feasts and Lunar New Year movies.

Still recovering from last night, Bo Mingyan sipped honey water while listening to Hu Jingjing and Ava complain about a Valentine’s Day film—an unrequited love story where the male lead pined for the female lead for years, only for the movie to end in a sudden, poorly foreshadowed tragedy.

On Valentine’s Day, Bo Mingyan had considered watching it, but after checking the low ratings and discovering the sad ending, Meng Xuran had vetoed it immediately: “My tear ducts forbid me from watching tragedies.”

Instead, they’d watched a hilarious animated film.

Ava ranted, “I rewatched it, and there were zero clues! It was like being force-fed shift!”

Liu Yang interjected, “You mean sh1t?”

Ava glared. “Shift. What, you actually want me to say the other word?”

The group burst into laughter.

Liu Yang surrendered. “Wouldn’t dare.”

Hu Jingjing sighed. “If it weren’t for the bad ending, it’d be so good! The male lead was so devoted—from elementary school to college, he always protected her secretly. He beat up anyone who bullied her, anonymously gave her money when she was broke, sent her umbrellas when it rained… God, I wish someone loved me like that. He’s the ultimate unrequited love icon!”

Liu Yang scoffed. “That’s just movie fantasy, meant to scam girls out of tickets and tears. In real life, he’d have gone through five girlfriends by then.”

Ava called him “a buzzkill,” then turned to ask Bo Mingyan about her progress with her “goddess”—only to find her already walking away, headed for the director’s office.

Assuming it was work-related, Ava went back to chatting.

When Bo Mingyan entered, Meng Xuran had just ended a meeting. A few seasoned employees—relatives of the company’s founding uncles—had irritated her, and she’d been venting to Fu Changqing.

Hearing the knock, she hung up and schooled her expression. “Come in.”

Seeing Bo Mingyan, her stern face softened. “What’s up?”

Bo Mingyan closed the door. “Bad mood?”

Meng Xuran leaned against her desk, fiddling with her press-on nails. “Mhm.”

Bo Mingyan hugged her. “Why?”

Meng Xuran blinked. “The 24 Solar Terms collection—some people objected, saying it’s too much.”

Bo Mingyan said, “Then don’t do it.”

“No.” Meng Xuran huffed. “I’m the one designing. Who are they to judge?”

The more she talked, the angrier she got—and with Bo Mingyan holding her, her emotions spilled over, tears welling up.

Bo Mingyan wiped her cheeks. “Then why let them upset you?”

“…” Meng Xuran pondered this. “Huh. Good point.”

“Silly.” Bo Mingyan’s voice was fond.

Meng Xuran glared. “Did you come here just to call me silly?”

Bo Mingyan chuckled, kissing her. Meng Xuran, easily riled up, arched against the desk, deepening the kiss.

When they parted, Bo Mingyan asked, “I came to ask you something.”

Meng Xuran, breathless, rested her head on Bo Mingyan’s shoulder. “Mhm?”

Bo Mingyan twirled a strand of her hair. “When did you start liking me?”

A long pause.

Meng Xuran closed her eyes, recalling that day—when her world had been gray, her mind fractured. Only Bo Mingyan had been in color.

Later, after recovering, she’d often waited outside the cake shop on Tongshan Road, hoping to see Bo Mingyan again—but she never did.

Then, in elementary school, during a science class where they used prisms to refract sunlight, she’d spun the glass idly—until, in the rainbow’s glow, she spotted Bo Mingyan passing by the hallway.

“The right one is like a rainbow—you’ll only know it when you see it.”

From that moment, with Bo Mingyan at the center, her world bloomed into color.

“Probably… from the moment my world gained color.”

Just then, the office door burst open.

Gu Miao stood frozen, her mouth agape—before snapping shut, then open again:

“We’ve got a problem.”