Two Faced Lover - Chapter 94

94: Voice Message

The three-day May Day holiday didn’t involve weekend shifts, so few employees opted to adjust their schedules. The office was half-empty but far from quiet. With the bosses absent, the atmosphere was much more relaxed than usual.

Worried Bo Mingyan might be overwhelmed, Hu Jingjing had adjusted her leave to match. Ava, who wanted to visit her hometown but dreaded holiday traffic, had postponed her trip as well.

The two chatted intermittently, and by the afternoon, when Gu Miao dropped by to keep Ava company, the conversation became nonstop.

“The weather forecast said it’d rain today. What a joke—I’m roasting!” Gu Miao complained as she strode into the haute couture department with takeout coffee, distributing cups to the three working.

Bo Mingyan, focused on rendering garment previews on her computer, glanced up when Gu Miao handed her a cup. She picked up her phone. “Thanks. How much do I owe you?”

“Pay your girlfriend instead. She’s the one who asked me to get this.” Gu Miao waggled her eyebrows as she set the cup on Bo Mingyan’s desk. “Double cream, double sugar—just how she likes it, right?”

Bo Mingyan tightened her grip on her phone, gaze shifting to the coffee.

“Huh?” Hu Jingjing blinked. “Sister Mingyan drinks hers black, no sugar.”

Gu Miao frowned, doubting her memory, and pulled out her phone to check the chat log.

“Yeah, Xiao Yanyan doesn’t take cream or sugar. That’s Little Director Meng’s preference,” Ava chimed in, propping her chin on her hand. “Speaking of, remember when Mingyan first joined? She made Director Meng a cup of black coffee—her own preference—and later had to make up for it with boba. The way Director Meng smiled that day… yikes. Liu Yang said he dreamed of being stabbed all night and still gets PTSD seeing her.”

As Ava spoke, Bo Mingyan recalled the incident. Setting her phone aside, she picked up the coffee, warmth seeping into her palms through the cup. Unconsciously, her lips curved into a faint, pleased smile.

“But she really did specify double cream and double sugar for Mingyan.” Gu Miao thrust her phone at Ava and Hu Jingjing. “See? She even wrote Mingyan’s name.”

Ava tsked and turned to Bo Mingyan. “Changed your taste? Did living together sync your habits?”

Bo Mingyan smiled mildly, offering no explanation, and peeled open the lid.

Truthfully, their habits hadn’t synced. She still preferred her coffee bitter. Double cream and double sugar was Meng Xuran’s preference.

The rich coffee touched her lips, sweetness blooming from the faint bitterness and acidity, the flavor lingering luxuriously on her tongue.

Her gaze flicked to her phone.

The screen displayed Meng Xuran’s last message from minutes ago: [Miss me today too.]

That was the real point.

Bo Mingyan snapped a photo of the coffee and sent it to Meng Xuran.

“Speaking of living together,” Hu Jingjing segued, “thank goodness Lu Shan broke up early. If she’d agreed to move in with that scumbag, it’d have been a disaster.”

Ava perked up. “How so?”

“You guys catch the recent gossip?” Hu Jingjing countered.

“What gossip?” Ava’s eyes lit up. “I’ve been too swamped to browse. Spill!”

Since it involved someone they knew, Bo Mingyan glanced over too.

“Remember that actress who called Gu Yuemi a ‘nepo baby’ during sister Mingyan’s design leak? She dated Shao Zishi—son of actor Shao Xin—and moved in with him. Last week, her stalker followed them home and caught Shao Zishi and her doing drugs. Worse, he’d invited his buddies to… well, you know. Five guys total, all arrested.”

“Fvck.” Gu Miao, familiar with the industry’s underbelly, cursed despite herself. “She didn’t report it? Was she coerced?”

“Claims it was consensual—she wanted resources from Shao. Who knows the truth?” Hu Jingjing shrugged.

Bo Mingyan’s brow furrowed in disgust. She steered the conversation back. “How’s this related to Lu Shan?”

“For the company’s reputation, don’t spread this,” Hu Jingjing whispered, leaning in. “The key detail? One of those five guys was Lu Shan’s ex.”

Ava’s jaw dropped.

Gu Miao rubbed her goosebumps, too horrified to dwell on it. “Thank god they broke up.”

“And that male model from our company—He Chencheng—was also involved,” Hu Jingjing added sotto voce. “He gained fans modeling and flaunting his hands, right? Minor influencer. After this, more dirt surfaced: two-timing, sleeping with fans… Rumor is he’s been in detention all month—no idea why. Netizens say someone’s targeting him. Got out after five days, messed up again within 24 hours, and got locked up for twenty more. Just released, and now this. He’s not as notorious as Shao Zishi, so his scandals barely made waves. Netizens say roasting him isn’t even satisfying.”

Bo Mingyan’s frown lingered, her mind blank for a long moment before easing.

A thought struck like lightning through fog—flashes of Meng Xuran discussing something over video call before Qingming, her offhand remark about teaching He Chencheng a lesson.

Hu Jingjing brightened, switching topics. “Another scoop: Songtian Diva Duan Yun divorced two weeks ago and already has a new lover. Didn’t even close the hotel curtains—got photographed. Ex-husband claims she cheated.”

Ava instantly googled Duan Yun and her new fling. “Why’s there nothing online? ‘All photographed’—where?”

Gu Miao poked her head. “Dummy. A-lister gossip gets scrubbed fast.”

Ava swatted her away, still scrolling. “Oh, someone’s selling it. ¥1.80 for the tea~ Ha, rhymes.”

Bo Mingyan half-listened, piecing things together.

Ava bought the photos and eagerly shared them. Distracted, Bo Mingyan didn’t realize they were explicit shots until Ava shoved her phone over. The composition eerily mirrored her memory of Lin Huixin’s infidelity.

Bo Mingyan’s brow twitched. She averted her eyes without examining them.

Her phone remained silent—Meng Xuran was likely busy.

Without asking her directly, Bo Mingyan wouldn’t get answers about He Chencheng. She shelved the thought, set her phone down, and returned to her designs.

With the holiday-adjusted schedule, work ended earlier than usual.

Bo Mingyan had finished the doll outfit and two-thirds of her illustration commissions. Though tasks remained, her free time had expanded compared to before. Meng Xuran, now in Tokyo as a guest attendee with fewer responsibilities, had reestablished their call rhythm.

Earlier, exhaustion had often lulled Bo Mingyan to sleep during video calls, leaving Meng Xuran to screenshot her slumbering face.

At night, lights off, she’d never displayed her sleeping form so openly.

Though the screenshots were flattering—Meng Xuran had even added cute stickers—Bo Mingyan found them oddly embarrassing. She dreaded what unguarded expressions might’ve been captured.

Lately, she’d refused video calls, sticking to voice.

That evening, post-shower, Bo Mingyan sat on the bay window, knees drawn up, tablet in lap, sketching while chatting through earbuds.

Picking up from their afternoon pause—the coffee—she teased, “Was that payback for the black coffee I made you when I first joined?”

Water sounds filled her ears.

A pause. Then Meng Xuran’s soft hum, breathy and intimate, as if whispered directly into her ear.

Bo Mingyan’s throat bobbed. “What are you doing?”

“Just finished bathing~” Meng Xuran drawled, voice lazy and stretched. “Grabbing something now.”

Bo Mingyan: “What?”

Rustling filled the line—likely rummaging through luggage.

Meng Xuran stayed silent.

Bo Mingyan let it go and recounted Hu Jingjing’s gossip, starting with Duan Yun to segue naturally into the other matter.

As she spoke, only her voice carried. Occasionally, Meng Xuran responded with noncommittal sounds, sometimes accompanied by paper-shuffling noises.

Bo Mingyan paused, sensing something off.

Usually, she listened while Meng Xuran talked. Tonight, roles had reversed.

As she pondered, Meng Xuran prompted, “Hmm? That’s it?”

Bo Mingyan refocused and broached the He Chencheng topic. To avoid sounding accusatory, she kept her tone even, soft as always.

Again, she spoke alone. This time, without even faint acknowledgments.

A faint vibration buzzed through the earbuds, followed by uneven breaths—sometimes shallow and controlled, sometimes deep and strained.

Both rooms were quiet, the sporadic sounds magnifying every hitch and pause.

Bo Mingyan’s lashes fluttered. Her voice gentled further. “Meng Jiaojiao… was this your doing?”

She meant “He Chencheng,” but suddenly, she couldn’t bear to say another’s name.

No reply. The vibrations grew louder.

Meng Xuran laughed. After a long moment, breath ragged, she murmured, “Wait… till I’m back… to tell you.”

Her fragmented speech made Bo Mingyan’s fingers curl. “What are you doing?”

This time, Meng Xuran didn’t answer readily.

After a prolonged silence, she finally uttered two words: “Guess?”

A notification popped up. Bo Mingyan tapped it—a link and login code from Meng Xuran.

After downloading, the screen’s contents blanked her mind briefly before flushing her cheeks. Once logged in, she turned to the window.

Outside, ink-dark clouds smothered the sky, a faint glow at the horizon hinting at impending rain. The humid air, thick with tension, melded into the sticky night.

“When are you coming back?”

Her whisper, laced with a sigh, brushed the microphone like a warm exhale. She switched to video call.

Meng Xuran declined, accepting only voice—clear retaliation for Bo Mingyan’s recent video-call refusal.

Moonlight seeped through heavy clouds, spilling into the room, pooling by her hand.

Bo Mingyan tapped the screen, selecting a random command.

The pent-up rain finally broke. Thunder rumbled, then downpour.

On the other end, drenched, Meng Xuran curled up, trembling in the deluge, tears streaking her flushed cheeks. Clutching her phone, she whimpered helplessly into the mic, calling Bo Mingyan’s name between gasps.

“Manman… Manman…”

Bo Mingyan shut her eyes, grip tightening on her tablet.

“I’m here.”

“Meng Jiaojiao… I miss you a little.”

“Not a little,” she corrected herself. “A lot.”

I love you a little.

Not a little.

A lot.

Meng Xuran’s sigh was her only reply.