Two Faced Lover - Chapter 93

93: Long-Distance

The days that followed became increasingly hectic.

The Twenty-Four Solar Terms collection finalized its basic designs, with Meng Xuran taking charge of twelve herself and dividing the remaining ones among the haute couture team designers.

Bo Mingyan was assigned the Summer Solstice, Minor Heat, and Major Heat designs. Alongside her unfinished haute couture orders, she immersed herself daily in sketching, designing, and crafting.

Every few days, she would also travel between cities to source fabrics and decorative trinkets or update clients’ new measurements.

Beyond her main job, Bo Mingyan continued taking on illustration commissions. Her meticulous detailing earned her a reputation, and by the time the Lunar New Year passed, her rates had soared to five figures.

During the Qingming holiday, she took a break to make an outfit for Meng Xuran’s doll and posted it on her social media. A former client who had commissioned illustrations from her saw it, and soon, she added custom doll clothing to her side gigs.

The upside? She earned more.

The downside? Her free time was nearly squeezed dry.

Meng Xuran was also swamped during this period. Aside from her usual workload, she had three fashion show invitations in April and May.

With Moment in its growth phase and past experiences of outfits being sabotaged backstage, Meng Xuran couldn’t rest easy unless she personally oversaw the rehearsals.

Their May Day holiday was rescheduled to around Bo Mingyan’s birthday.

Thus, after Qingming, the two saw each other only a handful of times, and their free time rarely overlapped.

A message Bo Mingyan sent at noon might not get a reply until after Meng Xuran’s lunch break. By then, Bo Mingyan would be busy discussing garment production with tailors. When she finally saw the reply and responded, Meng Xuran would either be adjusting outfits on models or rushing to catch a flight.

By evening, if their rare moments of rest aligned, it was often already late.

After finalizing details with an illustration client and adjusting the base colors, Bo Mingyan checked the time and turned off her drawing tablet, shifting her focus to doll clothes. At first, Xiaoman was fascinated by the doll outfits, often jumping onto the table to cause mischief. But now, the cat had grown well-behaved, lazily squeezing between the chairback and Bo Mingyan’s back, paws tucked in as it napped. Its black tail dangled over Bo Mingyan’s shoulder, occasionally flicking and brushing against her cheek.

The soft fur grazing her skin tickled slightly.

As she cut fabric, Bo Mingyan recalled the day she helped Meng Xuran pack for her trip. Xiaoman had climbed into the suitcase, only for Meng Xuran to scoop it out and say, “No bringing you along this time. Stay home and keep mom company, okay~?”

Xiaoman, as if understanding, had rubbed against Bo Mingyan’s legs.

Then, Meng Xuran turned and hugged her, clinging like sticky candy, her voice sweet and syrupy: “I used to take Xiaoman everywhere when I traveled, but now I’m leaving it with you. Take good care of it—and to do that, you’ve gotta take care of yourself first. Also, when you’re out meeting clients, try not to stay overnight unless absolutely necessary, okay? Otherwise, Xiaoman will get lonely, and the fish will starve. Got it?”

Her roundabout way of fussing was oddly endearing.

Bo Mingyan looked into Meng Xuran’s peach-blossom eyes, her gaze softening like ripples on water, and replied with a smile, “Got it.”

The cat was meant to be her own companion. Meng Xuran, who filled her living room with fish, her balcony with flowers, and every corner of her home with life, was someone who feared loneliness. Yet, every time she traveled, she deliberately left these things behind for Bo Mingyan.

Her words were just surface-level excuses. What she truly didn’t want was for Bo Mingyan to feel the suffocating weight of solitude in a home that felt too vast when empty.

Bo Mingyan designed a cheongsam for a client’s doll. While sketching, her mind was filled with thoughts of Meng Xuran.

Her fingertips brushed against the silk gauze, recalling the same fabric of the cheongsam Meng Xuran had worn the day she left.

The matcha-green hue made her skin glow like jade, soft and flawless. Tailored to her curves, the dress accentuated her graceful figure—long skirt, slit just above the knee, swaying with every step like willow branches in the wind. Meng Xuran loved wearing cheongsams and Han-inspired designs, and her delicate, classical beauty suited them perfectly.

That day, Meng Xuran had dressed more exquisitely than ever, even more so than on their dates. While Bo Mingyan admired her, a twinge of bitterness lingered. This separation would last longer than the last.

Before leaving, Meng Xuran draped her arms over Bo Mingyan’s shoulders, the lily-of-the-valley cardigan Bo Mingyan had picked for her slipping to her elbows. They stood at a deliberate distance, close yet not touching. Meng Xuran’s peach-blossom eyes, more captivating than the flower itself, held her gaze as her red lips parted, her words even more alluring.

“Do I look good today?”

Bo Mingyan nodded honestly.

“Good” didn’t do her justice.

“Aren’t you worried someone might take a liking to me~?” A flicker of mischief flashed in Meng Xuran’s eyes, making her already upturned eyeliner even more lively.

Bo Mingyan gripped her waist, hoisted her onto the shoe cabinet, and asked through gritted teeth, “What do you think?”

Meng Xuran raised a brow. “I won’t say.”

Bo Mingyan pinched her cheek. “You’re happy to be apart from me? Dressing up this nicely—is it a celebration?”

Hearing the jealousy in her voice, Meng Xuran burst into a radiant smile. She looped her arms around Bo Mingyan’s neck, pulling her closer, and pecked her lips in appeasement. Then, tilting her head, she whispered by Bo Mingyan’s ear, her breath warm:

“I want you to remember me like this—so stunning it gives you a sense of crisis. So you’ll think of me every day… and no other girl will catch your eye.”

Snapping back to the present, Bo Mingyan curved her lips and sewed pearls onto the doll’s miniature cheongsam as buttons. Her fingers traced the smooth, round surfaces, but her gaze drifted to her phone beside her elbow.

Her chat with Meng Xuran had stalled around 10 p.m., when Meng Xuran had just landed in Ningcheng Airport before transferring to Xinshi. Before switching to airplane mode, she’d sent:

[About to board. Meeting the stylist at the hotel later—I’ll check in then~]

Bo Mingyan had replied: [Okay~]

No new messages since.

After attaching the pearls, Bo Mingyan leaned back in her chair. Xiaoman, pressed between her back and the chair, let out a disgruntled “meow” and leaped to the floor, stretching its front paws and arching its back in a languid stretch. Bo Mingyan tilted her head back, easing the stiffness in her neck from hours of bending over. The ceiling light’s glare made her shut her eyes.

That day, Meng Xuran’s collar had also been adorned with a pearl button. Bo Mingyan had unfastened it—with some difficulty—and left a searing mark beneath.

That mark had surely faded by now.

But the seed Meng Xuran had planted in her heart had taken root, sprouting wildly.

She missed her. More with each passing day.

After tidying her desk, Bo Mingyan followed her usual routine: feeding the cat, the fish, then showering. Shortly after stepping out, she received Meng Xuran’s message confirming her safe arrival.

They spoke briefly on the phone while Meng Xuran was en route to the hotel.

“Once I get there, I’ll need to discuss the models’ styling with the team. No idea how long it’ll take,” Meng Xuran grumbled. “If you’re tired, just sleep, okay?”

Bo Mingyan hummed noncommittally.

Meng Xuran huffed. “So cold.”

Bo Mingyan paused, then lowered her voice. “You wouldn’t see my ‘warm’ side right now anyway.”

Meng Xuran bit her lip, suddenly sulky. She wanted to video-call, but the car was too dark for a clear image, and she’d be busy once at the hotel.

After a quiet moment, she changed the subject, her tone subdued. “What’re you up to?”

Hearing her deflated voice, Bo Mingyan chuckled softly. “Talking to you. And being jealous of your stylist.”

Meng Xuran blinked. Just then, the car pulled up to the hotel entrance. Through the window, she caught sight of her own rising smile. “Bo Manman.”

“Mm, I’m here.”

“Just got to the hotel.” Meng Xuran took the room card from Lu Shan.

“Did you get the flowers?” Bo Mingyan asked.

Lately, she’d been asking Lu Shan for Meng Xuran’s hotel addresses daily, sending a fresh bouquet without fail.

Meng Xuran accepted the bouquet from the front desk. “Forget-me-nots?”

Bo Mingyan confirmed. After a beat, she asked, “Do you have to start working as soon as you get in?”

“Not yet!” Meng Xuran hurried to say. “I haven’t even reached the room, and I haven’t told them I’m here.”

Bo Mingyan understood her unspoken plea and smiled. “Then we can talk a little longer.”

Meng Xuran seized the chance to chatter a bit more—mundane things, the kind only lovers could find joy in.

But happy moments never lasted.

Once in the room, Lu Shan signaled that the stylists and photographers had been notified. Meng Xuran sighed. “Manman, I miss you.”

Perhaps because of the time apart, the words hit harder than their usual teasing. Bo Mingyan lowered her eyes, pressing a hand to her chest. “I miss you too.”

After hanging up, Bo Mingyan sat against the headboard, knees drawn up, her tablet propped atop them as she meticulously colored an illustration commission while waiting for Meng Xuran to finish work.

She hadn’t said goodnight. Knowing Meng Xuran’s temperament, if she didn’t hear or see it, she’d inevitably message to check if Bo Mingyan was still awake.

When the notification finally came, Bo Mingyan was dozing off, her head bobbing forward intermittently, eyelids heavy.

Her phone volume was maxed out. The special alert tone jolted her awake instantly. She grabbed the phone and video-called without hesitation.

Meng Xuran answered immediately. Fresh from her meetings, too preoccupied to prep for bed, she’d sent a sticker to test the waters, never expecting Bo Mingyan to still be up.

On screen, Bo Mingyan leaned against the headboard, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Fatigue and tenderness mingled in her eyes, her lashes fluttering slowly, exuding a drowsy warmth.

Meng Xuran felt herself drowning in that gaze. “You’re exhausted. Why aren’t you asleep?”

Bo Mingyan rubbed her eyes. “Still owe you a goodnight.”

“Silly.” Meng Xuran teased. “You could’ve made it up tomorrow with extra perks.”

Bo Mingyan gave a faint laugh. “I prefer… tangible compensation.”

Meng Xuran, midway to the shower with fresh clothes, halted at those words. She stomped a foot in mock frustration. “You know we can’t touch or hug right now, yet you say that—are you trying to provoke me?”

Bo Mingyan denied it. “No.”

Meng Xuran pouted. “Liar.”

She propped her phone on the bathroom counter, removing her makeup with deliberate slowness. “That bag I sent you earlier—did you like it?”

Their sparse chats still included daily photo dumps from Meng Xuran. Too tired to think, Bo Mingyan scrolled back and found the crossbody bag from that afternoon. Her eyelids twitched. “It’s alright.”

Meng Xuran drew out an “Oh.”

“Do you like it?” Bo Mingyan asked.

“Not my style.”

Bo Mingyan said nothing, yawning as she set aside her tablet, ready to lie down.

Meng Xuran glimpsed the drawing app on the tablet before it disappeared. She couldn’t hold back. “You’re still taking illustration jobs?”

Busy with work and unsure of Meng Xuran’s stance, Bo Mingyan had kept it quiet. Fatigue had betrayed her.

At her silence, Meng Xuran understood. It explained Bo Mingyan’s constant exhaustion—why their overlapping free time had dwindled.

It wasn’t just her drowning in work. Bo Mingyan was stretching herself just as thin.

After a pause, Meng Xuran sighed. “Manman, why push yourself so hard? Why not just… lean on me?”

Bo Mingyan’s lashes fluttered. She stayed quiet.

Though unspoken, she sensed Meng Xuran brainstorming birthday gifts.

Back when they’d swapped cars—with Bo Mingyan borrowing Fu Junxue’s Wrangler—Meng Xuran had already been probing.

Likely realizing a car was too extravagant (and thus unwelcome), she’d pivoted to bags.

Also luxury.

To Princess Meng, these were ordinary. To Bo Mingyan, they were invisible weights.

Since getting together, she’d kept the blade of “inferiority” carefully sheathed. Yet sometimes it still peeked out, cutting her palm when she gripped it—painful but bearable.

What scared her more was that if she relaxed, accepting all Meng Xuran’s generosity, letting her pride swell unchecked, she might lose her grip on that blade. And then, it would wound Meng Xuran too.

So she pushed forward relentlessly, striving to be better.

She refused to be a pampered housecat. At the very least, she wanted to be like Lightning in the British garden—close enough to brush the fox’s tail.

When Bo Mingyan didn’t answer, Meng Xuran released her bitten lip. “Seeing you work so hard… it hurts me.”

“And—and we’re both so busy. Doesn’t it feel like we talk less and less?” Meng Xuran’s voice dipped. “You worry for me, I worry for you… even our calls are shorter. It doesn’t feel right.”

Bo Mingyan parted her lips, but Meng Xuran barreled on.

“Seems like you don’t miss me at all. My workload’s mandatory—yours is self-inflicted. Did you take on extra commissions while I was gone? Your dark circles are terrible!”

Busted. She’d accepted an extra doll clothing order. Bo Mingyan fished out a compact, confirming the shadows under her eyes.

Meng Xuran’s anger melted into exasperated amusement. “Why overwork yourself…” She hesitated, then mumbled, “Must be looking down on my earning power.”

“…”

Bo Mingyan coughed into her hand, masking a laugh. Meng Xuran caught it anyway. “You’re laughing! I knew it!”

“Not doubting you. It’s my pride.” Bo Mingyan’s eyes softened. “I’m saving up for a dowry.”

She added gently, “Hard as it is now, someday, this effort might bloom.”

Dowry. Bloom.

Did that mean…?

Meng Xuran froze, her expression blanking for a few seconds before she ducked her head, fingers fiddling with her cheongsam’s button. A blush spread across her cheeks. “Who said I’d marry you?”

It was just an excuse Meng Xuran would accept easier, but her shy reaction sent Bo Mingyan’s heart racing.

As Bo Mingyan’s lips began to curl, Meng Xuran suddenly looked up, dead serious. “It’s a dowry. Mine’s the real deal—I’m the top.”

Bo Mingyan: “…Childish.”

Meng Xuran lifted her chin, unbothered.

She could grudgingly accept Bo Mingyan’s reasoning—though it pained her. The explanation did warm her heart, but Bo Mingyan’s health mattered more.

“Even for a dowry, don’t neglect rest. If you ruin your health earning money, what’ll I do?”

Bo Mingyan nodded. “I’ll be careful.”

Somewhat reassured, Meng Xuran hummed as she undid her cheongsam, revealing snow-white skin.

Deliberately facing the camera.

The love bite below her collar had indeed faded.

Bo Mingyan’s gaze darkened. “Shower time?”

“Mhm.”

“Hang up?”

“Why?” Meng Xuran shed the dress, gathering her hair over one shoulder, her gaze lazily sweeping the lens. “Since you’re marrying me… consider this a preview.”

She took the waterproof phone into the shower, placing it on a shelf at chest height.

Bo Mingyan blinked slowly, watching water cascade over Meng Xuran’s shoulders. Recalling earlier words, she threw them back: “You know we can’t touch now. Yet you do this—trying to provoke me?”

Meng Xuran grinned. “Nope.”

Steam fogged the screen, obscuring Meng Xuran’s silhouette until only a blur remained. The sound of pouring water drowned all else.

Sensory stimulation faded with the image. Bo Mingyan’s eyelids grew leaden. Before surrendering to sleep, she murmured, “Goodnight, Meng Jiaojiao.”

Too quiet. Lost in the water’s roar, Meng Xuran didn’t hear.

Aware Bo Mingyan was watching, Meng Xuran felt equal parts embarrassed and exhilarated.

The shower left her more awake than ever. Biting her lip, she plotted her next move.

She’d packed a little toy in her luggage—remotely controllable. Maybe it was time to test it.

Donning a nightgown, she picked up her phone. “Manman…”

Bo Mingyan was already deep asleep.

Meng Xuran deflated. After a long moment, she fiddled with the forget-me-nots on the table, then climbed into bed, alternating between gazing at the flowers and Bo Mingyan’s serene face.

“…Fine.”

Unable to end the call, she clutched her phone, pretending Bo Mingyan lay beside her.

Drowsiness finally came. Just as she drifted off, she remembered—

Bo Mingyan never said goodnight.

Her eyes flew open, zeroing in on the screen.

The phone had toppled, now showing the ceiling. Then, Xiaoman’s face appeared, peering curiously at Meng Xuran’s image.

The cat shifted, nestling against Bo Mingyan before plopping directly onto the camera.

“…”