Two Faced Lover - Chapter 95

95: Petulance

The dense, intermittent drizzle had been falling for several nights. The air, thick with damp moisture, carried a slightly suffocating heaviness, mingling with the frequent rumble of thunder, all dissolving into the viscous, impenetrable darkness where only sounds could be heard but nothing seen.

Night after night, it disturbed peaceful dreams.

The heat accumulated during the day was somewhat dispelled by the sudden rain and wind, but the post-rain humidity grew even stickier as the night deepened.

After dawn, it turned out even hotter than the previous day. The temperature climbed steadily, and by nightfall, the restrained, lingering thoughts and suppressed yearnings, once neatly tucked away, were drenched by the rain and became utterly uncontrollable.

The longer the days dragged on, the more restless it felt.

Bo Mingyan was so agitated that she didn’t even want to answer phone calls anymore.

But as the saying goes, “While the priest climbs a foot, the devil climbs ten.” The other party sent a voice message instead.

Without much thought, Bo Mingyan clicked on it.

Through the earphones came a deep, drawn-out breath, as if struggling for air. After a long pause, there was an exhale, followed by one or two syllables that bounced into her ears.

It made her ears itch, and the sensation spread through her boiling bl00d all the way to her heart.

Pursing her lips, Bo Mingyan sat up from the bed. In the end, she couldn’t resist calling back.

Meng Xuran answered almost immediately. Her voice, weak but laced with amusement, drawled, “Oh? Didn’t you refuse to take my calls?”

Bo Mingyan avoided the question and said instead, “Seems like you’re having fun on your own. Almost too happy to think of coming back, huh?”

Meng Xuran shifted the blame, complaining coyly, “What else could I do? My wife isn’t here, won’t video call, won’t even answer the phone. I had no choice but to entertain myself.”

Bo Mingyan fell silent for a few seconds before deliberately softening her voice, masking her emotions as she said, “I see… Well, don’t let me interrupt you then. Carry on.”

Meng Xuran: “…”

After hanging up, Bo Mingyan had just removed her in-ear headphones when Meng Xuran sent another voice message:

“Bo Manman, are you throwing a tantrum?”

Bo Mingyan didn’t reply. She was a mess, unable to untangle the inexplicable emotions swirling inside her.

Over a minute later, Meng Xuran sent yet another voice message.

When Bo Mingyan clicked on it, all she heard at first was a long, deep breath, followed by faint rustling sounds, too quiet to make out clearly. Frowning slightly, Bo Mingyan put her earphones back in and turned up the volume.

The ragged breathing grew distant, replaced by the unmistakable buzz of a vibrating phone pressed close to the ear, interspersed with the sound of water splashing.

Amplified, it landed in her ears with crystal clarity.

By the time Bo Mingyan realized what the sounds were, her mind conjured up images of Meng Xuran holding her phone to record them. Bl00d rushed from her ears to her neck, her entire face burning red.

Her brain screamed at her to stop listening, but her actions betrayed her—she listened to every second without skipping.

After hesitating for half a minute, Bo Mingyan’s fingers curled and uncurled repeatedly, hovering over her phone, pulling back, then reaching out again. Finally, she tapped the video call button.

Meng Xuran rejected it instantly.

Bo Mingyan tried calling instead.

Again, instantly rejected.

Gritting her teeth, Bo Mingyan was both furious and helpless. Clutching her phone, she got up and went to the sink to wash her face.

The heat refused to dissipate.

The sounds from that voice message, intertwined with the vivid images they evoked, swirled relentlessly in her mind. Bo Mingyan closed her eyes. Water droplets slid from her lashes down her cheeks, but they brought no relief.

Lifting her head, she stared at her reflection in the mirror, her gaze lingering on the beads of water trailing down her neck. As the droplets trickled lower, she slowly shut her eyes again.

When she opened them, she picked up her phone and switched to the app Meng Xuran had made her download. Selecting a high-intensity setting, she input a command.

Then, she stepped into the shower and submerged herself in the bathtub filled with slightly cooled water.

Her hands, gripping the edges of the tub, slipped beneath the surface.

…

Her phone vibrated. Bo Mingyan glanced at it.

Meng Xuran had sent another voice message.

A short one this time—just three seconds.

Bo Mingyan carefully dried her fingers, then lightly tapped the white voice message bubble.

Like the ones from the past few days, it was filled with uneven breathing. Meng Xuran called her name: “Manman…”

But this time, it was just once.

Her voice was choked with tears, melting Bo Mingyan’s heart. The accumulated embarrassment and frustration from earlier dissipated almost entirely.

A video call request popped up on her phone screen. Bo Mingyan froze.

Now that she thought about it, ever since she’d refused video calls after Meng Xuran took screenshots of her sleeping, they hadn’t seen each other in a while.

Every day, she only got one or two selfies to look at.

Hearing Meng Xuran’s words earlier had indeed upset her—they made it sound like having a partner was no different from being single.

But Meng Xuran wasn’t wrong.

Here she was, in a relationship, yet refusing video calls and phone calls.

Ultimately, the problem lay with her.

Bo Mingyan exhaled slowly and tapped the green accept button.

On the screen, Meng Xuran appeared to be lying sideways on the bed, her face half-buried in the crook of her arm. Her long hair was disheveled, a few strands clinging to her flushed cheeks, making the delicate skin appear even redder.

She hadn’t fully recovered yet. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead, her beautiful peach-blossom eyes misty with unshed tears, the corners tinged red, her gaze dazed.

Tears clung to her lashes, trembling before merging with the ones welling up in her eyes, streaming down past the teardrop mole at the corner of her eye.

Through her blurred vision, Meng Xuran gradually made out Bo Mingyan on the other side of the screen—her shoulders and neck exposed above the bathtub, her ears flushed red, and her fingers, wrinkled and pale from prolonged soaking, brushing through her hair as it came into view.

Realizing what Bo Mingyan might have been doing, Meng Xuran’s mind blanked for a moment before an electric current seemed to shoot through her. Her shoulders trembled uncontrollably as she slowly curled into herself, burying her face deeper into her arm. Unable to help herself, she called Bo Mingyan’s name twice: “Manman… Manman…”

Her gaze, piercing through the tears, swept over from the crimson corners of her eyes to meet Bo Mingyan’s through the screen.

Before, it had only been sounds.

Now, with the added visual impact…

The restlessness Bo Mingyan had just barely suppressed threatened to rise again.

She closed her eyes, forcing it down, and stood up from the bathtub.

Water splashed in her wake.

Meng Xuran relaxed, lazily sprawled on the bed as she caught her breath, watching the shifting scenery on the screen. She guessed Bo Mingyan had moved to sit by the bay window again.

Outside, the rain seemed to have stopped, leaving only winding trails of droplets on the glass. Bo Mingyan stared into the thick night as Meng Xuran, still trembling and breathless, began her accusation: “You won’t do this, you won’t do that… What else was I supposed to do…?”

“It’s been so, so many days since we’ve seen each other. I was worried you might get used to me not being around, worried some other girl might catch your eye. You don’t flirt with me, I can’t even see you, and now you won’t even let me hear your voice. I was so scared I wasn’t attractive to you anymore—I had to find some way to seduce you, didn’t I?” Meng Xuran spoke between sobs, her voice small and choked.

Bo Mingyan turned her head to look at Meng Xuran’s tear-filled eyes on the screen. If Meng Xuran were here in person, she wouldn’t hesitate to kiss those eyes.

After a long silence, Bo Mingyan confessed, “Actually, I’ve been worried about the same things you are.”

Meng Xuran didn’t believe it. Bo Mingyan was always so composed—sometimes she even wondered if she could ever truly ruffle her. “What are you worried about?”

“Worried that you might realize life isn’t so bad without me around. That you might grow attached to that little toy instead. Would I still be attractive to you then?”

“Impossible,” Meng Xuran declared firmly. “That thing can’t cook for me.”

Bo Mingyan choked: “…”

When it came to ruining the mood, Meng Xuran was second to none.

Seeing Bo Mingyan’s stunned expression, Meng Xuran couldn’t help but laugh. Her eyes curved as she coaxed, “Besides, this thing only sucks on the outside… It’s nowhere near as good as you.”

She licked her lips, drawing out the last word with a playful lilt, a hint of coyness in her tone.

The moment she finished, she buried her face in the pillow, suddenly shy.

Bo Mingyan had seen the product images on the app and had a rough idea of what it looked like.

Seeing it was one thing; hearing Meng Xuran say it so brazenly was another. Her face was even thinner than Meng Xuran’s. She set her phone down, aiming the camera at the window seat, and cleared her throat softly.

A moment later, Meng Xuran’s voice came through, sweet and pleading:

“I’ve missed you so much… Manman…”

The deliberate choice of words.

With just her name, “Manman,” Meng Xuran hollowed out Bo Mingyan’s entire heart.

Because of those words, Bo Mingyan rearranged her originally scheduled days off, working nonstop until mid-May before taking a block of leave that included the earlier Labor Day holiday.

After that, she contacted Lu Shan and got the address of the hotel where Meng Xuran was staying.

The afternoon before her leave, after submitting the final illustrations and receiving the remaining payment from the client, completing a custom doll clothing order, and finishing a high-end commission—three substantial sums deposited into her account—Bo Mingyan transferred a large portion to Fu Junxue without batting an eye.

Fu Junxue sent a laughing emoji: I bet she’ll cry when she sees the finished product, then cry again when she finds out how much you spent—all of it going into my pocket. How many days do you think her eyes will stay puffy?

Bo Mingyan’s eyes softened. Don’t tell her, she replied.

That way, she’d at least cry one less time.

Fu Junxue responded with a string of: Hahahaha

Bo Mingyan didn’t have time to reply further—it was time to board the plane.

She’d flown many times before, each trip taking her to an unfamiliar place, always alone. She’d grown accustomed to the journey, and thought she’d long since outgrown any emotional turbulence.

But when the ear pressure hit, memories of the past still surfaced—just for a moment, quickly overshadowed by a different feeling.

This time was unlike all the others.

The difference was, in the past, she’d always been pushed away.

This time, she was being pulled closer.

Where she was headed, waiting for her was no longer a lonely, desolate struggle, but a lover who yearned for her arrival.

The clock in the hotel lobby struck nine. Dinner was winding down, guests clinking glasses and chatting merrily about where to go next.

Meng Xuran had zero interest in the after-party. She hadn’t even wanted to attend this dinner. After the fashion show, she was still wearing the qipao she’d modeled—pearl-white mulberry silk with a freesia jacquard pattern, a discontinued design. Even a single stain would break her heart.

The cut was snug around the waist for aesthetic appeal. Eating too much might make her stomach protrude, and that would be mortifying. Meng Xuran sucked in a breath, glanced down at herself, and licked her lips in satisfaction. She fiddled with the gems on her nails, plotting her escape.

She’d already used the “not feeling well” excuse yesterday. Using it again might spark rumors about her health.

Just as she was pondering, Lu Shan, worried that Bo Mingyan had been waiting too long, leaned in and whispered about Bo Mingyan coming to see her.

Meng Xuran’s eyes lit up. “Ugh, why didn’t you tell me earlier? Whose assistant are you—mine or hers? Reporting on me every day is bad enough, but now you’re helping her keep secrets? Careful, I’ll dock your pay!”

Lu Shan’s eyes widened, hand over her mouth: Since when did Director Meng become so… coquettish?!

The son of the event’s organizer approached, champagne in hand, hoping to clink glasses with her. But Meng Xuran had already set down her cup and was striding away, lifting the hem of her dress. He hurried after her. “Miss Meng, where are you going? Everyone’s heading to karaoke later. Won’t you join?”

“No.”

The aloof Meng Xuran was back, her steps unbroken as she entered the elevator.

The young man pressed the elevator button, persisting. “The ballad queen Duan Yun and that super popular band will be there too. They’re amazing singers.”

What did she care about good singers?

“Sorry, not interested.” Meng Xuran stepped inside, turned to press the floor button, and flashed a radiant smile at the organizer’s son still standing outside. “I’ve got to hurry back and hear my wife sing.”

The young man stood frozen, watching the elevator descend to the basement level before snapping out of it.

Inside the elevator, Lu Shan remarked, “Did you hear? The ballad queen dropped some new gossip today.”

“What gossip?” Meng Xuran asked absently.

“Her ex-husband exposed her for cheating during their marriage, and apparently her new fling was also married.” Lu Shan clicked her tongue. “And she still showed up to perform at the banquet tonight. Talk about nerves of steel.”

Meng Xuran wasn’t surprised. “You’d need nerves of steel to last in this industry.”

Once downstairs, Meng Xuran, her feet aching from a day in sky-high heels, couldn’t be bothered to walk. She had Lu Shan drive the car over.

She pulled out her phone to text Bo Mingyan but then reconsidered. If Bo Mingyan wanted to surprise her, she’d play along.

Meng Xuran happily plotted how to turn the surprise back on her when a faint commotion caught her attention—muffled arguing from a nearby corner.

Just as she turned to look, Lu Shan pulled up. Meng Xuran got in, buckled her seatbelt, and glanced out the window. Two figures emerged from the shadowy corner.

The one leading was the ballad queen, Duan Yun. Following her was a man in a tailored suit, exuding an air of refined elegance.

Meng Xuran frowned. She rolled down the window for a better look, but the man had already stepped out after seeing Duan Yun to the elevators.

From this distance, his features were indistinct.

“What’s wrong, Director Meng?” Lu Shan asked, noticing her repeated glances at the man outside. “Do you know him?”

Meng Xuran withdrew her gaze, rolling the window back up. Her brow furrowed as she shook her head. “He looks familiar, but I can’t place him.”