Two Faced Lover - Chapter 96

96: Branches

After returning to the hotel and stepping off the elevator, Meng Xuran didn’t see Bo Mingyan in the hallway. She sent her a message but received no reply. Lu Shan, standing beside her, offered comfort in a consoling tone, “Maybe she hasn’t arrived yet.”

The good mood and eager anticipation Meng Xuran had built up on the way back instantly plummeted to rock bottom. She had been imagining sneaking up behind Bo Mingyan, surprising her with a tight embrace, only to find her hopes dashed. Meng Xuran wilted, her enthusiasm drained to the point where she didn’t even want to return to her room.

Seeing Meng Xuran turn back toward the elevator, Lu Shan hurried after her and asked, “Director Meng, where are you going?”

“I’ll wait for her downstairs,” Meng Xuran adjusted her low bun and extended her hand to Lu Shan. “Give me that mosquito repellent.”

This city was much hotter than Nanquan. Even though it was only May, mosquitoes were already out. Today, while visiting the exhibition, Meng Xuran had been bitten twice.

Lu Shan, hearing Meng Xuran’s response, grew anxious and quickened her pace. Her eyes darted around until she finally thought of something to say. Just before Meng Xuran could step into the elevator, she blocked her path and persuaded, “Director Meng, you should go back to your room first. It’s been a long day, and your makeup isn’t as flawless as it was this morning. Why don’t you take a shower and freshen up?”

Meng Xuran pondered for a few seconds and found Lu Shan’s reasoning sound. Eager to redo her look, she didn’t pay much attention to Lu Shan’s odd behavior and turned back, instructing, “Let me know on WeChat when she arrives.”

Lu Shan replied with an “Oh,” patting her chest in relief before scurrying off to her own room. She glanced at the message Bo Mingyan had sent her twenty minutes earlier and sighed inwardly: Being caught between a couple is so hard.

The moment Meng Xuran swiped her keycard and opened the door, bright white light spilled from inside, wrapping around her. The earlier disappointment was instantly replaced by a surge of anticipation, a rollercoaster of emotions that left her heart full and overwhelmed.

It was like the sudden drop on a rollercoaster, the brief emptiness before rising again and settling back into place—a feeling of being grounded, as though something had filled the void in her heart.

The clothes she had haphazardly thrown on the sofa that morning were now neatly arranged. Her suitcase stood upright in the corner. On the coffee table in front of the sofa sat a bouquet of pink roses surrounded by baby’s breath, alongside a clear box of freshly cut fruit. The messy disposable bed cover had been replaced with a new one, smoothed out perfectly.

Meng Xuran’s gaze drifted slowly, her eyes shimmering in the light.

Even though she had known Bo Mingyan would be here, she thought she could remain composed, just like any other day. After all, they had just video-called yesterday.

But the moment she saw the light left on for her, the instant she noticed the changes in the room, she suddenly felt as though she had come home.

The suffocating weight of days spent rushing around, unable to see Bo Mingyan or breathe in her presence, dissipated as her eyes traced the room.

The faint sound of running water came from the shower, and the air was filled with a fresh, floral scent. Meng Xuran closed the door slowly, her hands behind her back, her fingertips brushing against something delicate and soft. She turned and saw a garland of gardenias and white orchids hanging from the doorknob.

The petals were pure and clean, tinged with a faint green. The subtle fragrance, mingled with the scent of leaves, wafted through the air, blending with the shower’s steam to create an intoxicating atmosphere.

Meng Xuran took the garland from the doorknob, gently rubbing the petals between her fingers. She removed the green agate brooch from her qipao and replaced it with the garland.

As she lowered her head, her dark hair cascaded down, framing her face with soft waves that accentuated the faint smile on her lips. She looked like a vibrant freesia blooming amidst the qipao’s intricate embroidery—alive and radiant.

When Bo Mingyan stepped out of the shower, this was the sight that greeted her. Her eyes softened, and her voice, gentle as if afraid to disrupt the scene, called out, “You’re back?”

Hearing Bo Mingyan’s voice, Meng Xuran looked up, her smile brightening. But after a moment, she noticed Bo Mingyan drying her hair and then walking over to the sofa.

There was no passionate embrace or kiss as she had imagined.

Meng Xuran couldn’t quite describe the feeling—a slight disappointment, yet also a sense of natural warmth.

As if they had never been apart.

Meng Xuran lifted the garland with her fingertips and asked, “Where did this come from?”

Bo Mingyan picked up a glass of water from the coffee table and took a sip. “I bought it on the street in front of the hotel. When I saw it, I thought it would suit you—since you love wearing qipaos—and I really wanted to see you wear it.”

It was exactly as she had imagined—perfect.

The pearlescent white silk qipao accentuated Meng Xuran’s fair, porcelain-like skin. The soft fabric clung to her curves, outlining her graceful figure. The freesia embroidery added an elegant, almost ethereal charm—like an untouchable beauty from a painting.

But with the addition of the green-white gardenias, there was a touch of playfulness.

A charm that belonged only to her.

Tempting.

“If you wanted me to wear it, why did you hang it on the door? What if I hadn’t noticed and missed it?” Meng Xuran teased.

Bo Mingyan smirked. “Wouldn’t you have seen it when we leave tomorrow?”

She had spent so long picking out the freshest, greenest flowers to ensure they wouldn’t wilt by morning.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t like it, that you’d think it was too cheap.” Bo Mingyan added.

“How could I not like it? Most people wouldn’t even think to string them into a brooch,” Meng Xuran lowered her head to admire the flowers before looking up with a bright smile, her face more enchanting than the blossoms. She didn’t hold back her praise: “Our Miss Bo’s taste has always been impeccable—just look at her girlfriend~”

Bo Mingyan suppressed a laugh and agreed, “Yes, there’s no one more wonderful, beautiful, or heart-stopping than my girlfriend.”

So perfect she was one of a kind, so adorable she was beyond compare.

Flustered by the praise, Meng Xuran tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Bo Mingyan, seeing her still lingering by the door, smiled softly. “Aren’t you coming over for a hug?”

The slit of Meng Xuran’s qipao revealed glimpses of her smooth, fair skin as she stepped into the light, walking toward Bo Mingyan with each step synced to her heartbeat. Instead of hugging her, she pushed Bo Mingyan onto the sofa with a domineering air, kneeling between her legs with one knee. She lifted Bo Mingyan’s chin, forcing her to look up, and teased, “Second question, my little house-elf—how did you get into my room?”

“Lu Shan arranged it in advance. After checking in, the front desk gave me a keycard,” Bo Mingyan naturally wrapped her arms around Meng Xuran’s waist, feeling the smooth silk and the curve of her slender waist.

Just as she had guessed. Meng Xuran clicked her tongue and settled onto Bo Mingyan’s lap, looping her arms around her neck. “Third question, my little house-elf—aside from tidying up, what else do you help with?”

Bo Mingyan raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. “Such as?”

“Such as~” Meng Xuran’s peach-blossom eyes shimmered as she leaned in, her lips parting slightly, her breath warm and sweet, “Easing longing, or… accompanying someone to sleep.”

Bo Mingyan’s fingertips brushed beneath Meng Xuran’s eyes.

Meng Xuran’s lashes fluttered. Though her makeup was flawless, it couldn’t mask the exhaustion in her features. The dark circles under her eyes were faintly visible up close. Bo Mingyan’s heart ached—she knew how delicate Meng Xuran was.

After so many days of changing beds and adjusting to time zones, she likely hadn’t slept well at all.

Meng Xuran pinched Bo Mingyan’s ear and pouted, “Your perfume’s worn off.”

It could no longer soothe the anxiety and longing she felt without Bo Mingyan by her side.

Bo Mingyan’s voice softened. “Then go wash up. Starting tonight, I’ll sleep with you.”

Meng Xuran blinked. “Starting tonight?”

They had originally planned to shift the May Day holiday to the day of the Grain Buds solar term so they could properly celebrate Bo Mingyan’s birthday—but that was still three days away.

Meng Xuran had assumed Bo Mingyan was just visiting today and would have to leave tomorrow.

“I swapped my weekends for leave.” Bo Mingyan said casually.

How many days in a row had she worked for this?

Most people complained after just seven straight days.

Just to see her sooner, Bo Mingyan had pushed through who knew how many exhausting days.

Meng Xuran’s heart melted. She clung to Bo Mingyan, letting out a soft “Mmm…” as she called her name twice: “Manman… Manman… How are you so good to me?”

The way Meng Xuran had sobbed her name while playing with her toys days ago flashed through Bo Mingyan’s mind, sending a jolt of heat through her. But her concern for Meng Xuran quickly overpowered it. She wiped the tears from Meng Xuran’s face and gently soothed the little crybaby in her arms.

Once Meng Xuran had calmed down, Bo Mingyan asked, “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“There’s an interview for the Assassination clothing line,” Meng Xuran tilted her head up, pointing to the tear rolling down her cheek, signaling Bo Mingyan to wipe it away.

Bo Mingyan chuckled and obliged, then said, “Then go wash up and get some rest.”

“I’m so tiiiired~” Meng Xuran lazily traced patterns on Bo Mingyan’s palm, leaning in to murmur by her ear in a pitiful, drawn-out whine, “I have no energy left at all~”

Bo Mingyan understood. Slipping an arm under Meng Xuran’s knees, she lifted her up. “You’ve lost weight.”

“All the little pounds you worked so hard to put on me are gone,” Meng Xuran rested her head against Bo Mingyan’s shoulder, her voice lazy. “I’m under 90 now.”

Bo Mingyan pretended not to hear the pride in her tone and consoled her, “It’s fine. We’ll get them back slowly.”

Meng Xuran: “…Thank you so much.”

In the bathroom, Meng Xuran was set down on the counter. Bo Mingyan stood beside her, carefully washing her hands. Meng Xuran twirled a strand of Bo Mingyan’s hair around her finger, her gaze lingering on her profile before drifting down to her slender, fair hands.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something on a nearby tissue.

Her eyes widened.

Heat rushed from her ears to her neck.

Trying to act natural, she reached over and discreetly moved the object behind her back.

Bo Mingyan, still focused on washing her hands, said without looking up, “I saw it when I showered earlier.”

Meng Xuran’s face burned even hotter. “If you saw it, why did you have to say it out loud and embarrass me? Do I not deserve dignity?!”

“Did you worry about dignity during our video calls?” Bo Mingyan shot her an amused glance and grabbed a tissue.

“I don’t need dignity to seduce you,” Meng Xuran declared shamelessly.

Bo Mingyan lowered her lashes, her eyes darkening as she slowly dried her hands. “Leaving it here—did you use it again yesterday?”

The atmosphere was awkward yet charged, a strange mix of tension and intimacy.

Meng Xuran covered her face with her hands and mumbled, “No! I haven’t used it since then. I just forgot to put it away after washing it.”

Squeepping some makeup remover onto her palm, Bo Mingyan stepped closer, pressing against Meng Xuran. Softly, she said, “Lower your hands.”

Meng Xuran slowly obeyed. The blush on her face hadn’t faded, as if she’d applied too much rouge. Bo Mingyan studied her for a moment before an unkind smirk tugged at her lips.

Embarrassed and annoyed, Meng Xuran pinched Bo Mingyan’s cheek and warned, “Don’t laugh at me.”

Bo Mingyan obediently pressed her lips together, stifling her smile as she massaged the makeup remover into Meng Xuran’s face in slow circles.

Her cool fingertips brushed against Meng Xuran’s flushed skin, gently soothing the heat.

Meng Xuran relaxed into Bo Mingyan’s attentive care, chatting about her day. When she mentioned running into the pop diva Duan Yun that evening, she marveled, “Duan Yun must be almost 46, right? She’s aged so well—you can’t even tell. Oh, and I saw her new fling. He looked to be in his forties too, maybe older, but he seemed youthful. Probably loaded—definitely spends a fortune on upkeep. Much younger and better-looking than her ex-husband.”

Her focus was entirely on appearances and maintenance.

Bo Mingyan’s lips curled into a faint smile.

“Manman,” Meng Xuran hooked her ankle around Bo Mingyan’s leg and asked, “When I’m older, will you be like this too? Chasing after younger, prettier girls?”

“No,” Bo Mingyan wiped away the makeup with a cotton pad. “I’m not as shallow as you.”

“That sounds so backhanded,” Meng Xuran frowned, momentarily confused.

As Bo Mingyan washed her face and gently patted it dry, it suddenly clicked. “Oh~! You’re saying I’ll be ugly when I’m old, so you’ll have to settle for my personality!”

Bo Mingyan denied it: “That’s not what I meant.”

“Liar, you totally did,” Meng Xuran began to pout. “If you didn’t, you’d say, ‘Even when you’re old, you’ll still be a beautiful little granny~’”

Bo Mingyan was so tangled in her logic she patiently explained, “I meant that aging won’t change how I feel about you. More than your looks, I love how our souls fit together.”

Meng Xuran’s heart fluttered, but she kept up the act: “So you are saying I’ll be ugly, and you’ll have to love me for my personality.”

Bo Mingyan’s expression went blank. Cupping the back of Meng Xuran’s head, she pulled her in and silenced her with a kiss.

She had intended it to be brief, but the moment their lips met—soft, warm, and sweet—she couldn’t help but deepen it, savoring the taste as if it were the most delicate dessert.

Meng Xuran’s hands clenched the edge of the counter, the sharp press of the tile grounding her in the moment. Her heart swelled with sweetness as she melted into the kiss, her mind blank except for the need to breathe and reciprocate.

A faint sting spread as the metallic tang of bl00d touched her tongue—Bo Mingyan’s lip had been bitten. Meng Xuran heard the soft gasp in Bo Mingyan’s throat and tried to pull away, but Bo Mingyan’s hand at the nape of her neck held her firmly in place, deepening the kiss further.

Their tongues grew numb, but neither wanted to stop.

When they finally parted, a silvery strand glistened between them in the light, stretching and snapping as Meng Xuran leaned in to lick the bl00d from Bo Mingyan’s lip.

Her tongue was a vivid pink.

Bo Mingyan’s breath was uneven, her face flushed. After a moment, she said, “Crybaby, spoiled brat—now you’ve got another label.”

Meng Xuran blinked. “Huh?”

Bo Mingyan rested her forehead against Meng Xuran’s. “Little drama queen.”

“So what if I’m spoiled? So what if I cry? So what if I’m dramatic?” Meng Xuran didn’t care. She could hear the affection in Bo Mingyan’s voice, the joy hidden beneath the teasing. Smugly, she declared, “I’m still adorable~”

Bo Mingyan’s lips curved lazily. “Whose adoration are you trying to win?”

Meng Xuran nuzzled Bo Mingyan’s nose, her voice a playful, breathy tease: “Manman’s adoration.”

“Mm,” Bo Mingyan’s eyes shimmered as she enunciated each word, “I like you so much.”

Meng Xuran grinned, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons.

“So don’t worry. Even when you’re a beautiful little granny, you’ll still have Manman’s love,” Bo Mingyan paused, then added, “I’m the one who should worry. You once said you fell for me because of my character, were captivated by my looks, and stayed for my talent. But sometimes I feel like I’m lacking—just a pretty face. What will happen when I’m in my forties…”

Her voice trailed off, the smile fading from her lips.

When it came to character, years of life’s trials had changed her, dulling her edges. When it came to looks, no beauty could withstand time. When it came to talent, everything she knew, Meng Xuran knew too—she was just barely enough.

So she often wondered: Did Meng Xuran deserve better?

Meng Xuran was thoughtful and perceptive, always finding ways to cheer her up when she was down, standing fearlessly by her side when she needed support, staying awake to comfort her when she was sick or haunted by nightmares—even when she could barely keep her own eyes open.

Sometimes, she couldn’t help but think: If Meng Xuran met someone better, more extraordinary—what would she have left to keep her heart?

“How much longer will you—” love me.

“So much longer! So much that ‘like’ isn’t even enough. And what do you mean, ‘lacking’? Don’t you dare talk about the person I love like that,” Meng Xuran pressed a finger to Bo Mingyan’s lips, cutting her off. Her tone was firm, “You’re insulting my taste! The one I love, the one I cherish, is the best in the world—no exceptions, no substitutes!”

“You’re the best Bo Manman in the world, worthy of my one-of-a-kind love,” Meng Xuran wrapped her arms around Bo Mingyan’s waist.

Bo Mingyan’s heart skipped a beat, her throat tight.

One-of-a-kind. Worthy.

These were words she had never dared hope for—to be someone’s irreplaceable choice, to be truly wanted.

Her fingers curled slightly before she hugged Meng Xuran back, holding her tightly.

Meng Xuran couldn’t hold back her sobs, tears spilling from her reddened eyes. She knew what Bo Mingyan had been through, understood the roots of her insecurities. The more she knew, the more it hurt to see that vulnerable side—even if it was only shown to her.

Even if, once upon a time, she had wanted the aloof, reserved Bo Mingyan to show more signs of loving her, needing her.

But not like this.

Her Manman had once been an untouchable flower on a high peak, proud and unyielding.

“Fell for your character, captivated by your looks, stayed for your talent,” Meng Xuran wiped her own tears clumsily, her voice thick with emotion. “There’s one more you always forget… Why don’t you count it?”

She thought of the countless pages in her journal, overflowing with love for Bo Mingyan—how she had been utterly, hopelessly devoted. And then she thought of Bo Mingyan’s fragile uncertainty, and her heart ached so fiercely she could barely breathe.

Biting her lip to stifle a sob, she whispered, “Is my love really so insignificant?”

“No,” Seeing Meng Xuran’s reddened eyes, Bo Mingyan’s heart twisted painfully. She denied it immediately, but her understanding of “love” was still so shallow—she didn’t know how to explain. All she could say was, “It’s not insignificant.”

“Then why do you always hide it away?” Meng Xuran pressed a hand to Bo Mingyan’s lips, her voice thick with tears. “You have someone who loves you so much, yet you never boast about it—do you hide it so often you forget?”

“No, that’s not it,” Bo Mingyan wiped Meng Xuran’s face with a damp cloth, her voice softening. “I’m sorry. I came to surprise you, not to make you cry.”

“Then whose fault is it?” Meng Xuran sniffled.

Bo Mingyan thought for a moment. “Yours.”

This was the first time Bo Mingyan had ever shifted blame onto her. Meng Xuran froze, as if she couldn’t believe her ears.

“I’m at fault too,” Bo Mingyan added fairly. “I shouldn’t have indulged my little drama queen’s hypotheticals. I’m adorable too.”

Hearing Bo Mingyan echo her own vanity, Meng Xuran’s lips twitched. The absurdity of it all finally made her laugh through her tears, her eyes glistening.

“That’s right, Manman is the most adorable,” Meng Xuran looped one arm around Bo Mingyan’s waist and the other around her neck, nuzzling her tears into Bo Mingyan’s shoulder. Her voice was muffled but tender, “Hypotheticals are fine—just change the angle.”

Bo Mingyan tilted her head slightly, her neck ticklish from the dampness. “Hm?”

Meng Xuran pressed closer, her lips brushing Bo Mingyan’s ear as she whispered, her voice low and teasing, “The older you get, the more elegant and alluring you become—the more people will adore you.”

Warm breath fanned over Bo Mingyan’s ear, sending shivers down her spine. Meng Xuran leaned back, gazing up at her.

Without makeup, her face was like finely carved jade. The bathroom light caught the tears clinging to her long lashes, scattering tiny prisms of light. The redness at the corners of her eyes lent her a fragile beauty.

When those shimmering eyes met hers, Bo Mingyan’s heart stuttered. Suddenly, she remembered their video call days ago—the way Meng Xuran’s eyes had sparkled with satisfaction in that moment of release, her pleasure unabashedly on display.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. On the journey here, Bo Mingyan’s longing had been like a jar of aged wine—the longer it steeped, the richer it became. She had been afraid that opening it fully would intoxicate her beyond reason, so she had only cracked the lid, letting the intensity seep out slowly, carefully—controlled enough to seem gentle.

But the more restrained she was, the more Meng Xuran wanted to tear off the lid, to let the aroma flood the room. Because she had seen the hidden depths of Bo Mingyan’s restraint—how devastatingly seductive it could be.

Bo Mingyan looked away, ruffling Meng Xuran’s hair. “Go shower. I’ll get your pajamas. Which set do you want?”

Meng Xuran clung to Bo Mingyan’s arm, lazily refusing to let go. “I’m even more exhausted after crying.”

Bo Mingyan sighed at her lethargy, both amused and helpless. “If you don’t want to bathe alone, I’ll draw you a bath.”

“Mmm~ What’s the point of bathing alone? A quick shower will do,” Meng Xuran guided Bo Mingyan’s hand to her collar. “You undress me.”

In the past, Meng Xuran would have asked, “Okay?” Rarely had she ever been so direct—this was a command.

Bo Mingyan’s fingertips brushed against the gardenia garland.

Her gaze lingered for a few seconds.

Meng Xuran, seeing her hesitation, licked her lips and nudged her with a foot. “Miss Bo~ You’re a designer—you’ve undressed plenty of mannequins. Don’t be so shy~”

Mannequins and real people are completely different. Bo Mingyan shot her a look.

Meng Xuran leaned in, pressing a kiss to Bo Mingyan’s neck before nuzzling her ear, her voice a slow, teasing drawl: “I remember someone once said—I look beautiful in a qipao, but even more so when taking it off.”

Bo Mingyan stiffened.

That had been when Meng Xuran was abroad, bragging about how many people on the plane had complimented her qipao. Jealous and frustrated after a long day, Bo Mingyan had blurted out that retort.

Anyone could admire Meng Xuran in a qipao—but only she got to see her out of it.

Worried about staining the fabric, Bo Mingyan washed her hands before undoing the knotted buttons.

She lifted the garland away, her fingers returning to the buttons. Slowly, painstakingly, she loosened each one.

Meng Xuran idly played with the flowers, plucking at the petals to reveal the yellow stamens inside.

Bo Mingyan’s eyes followed the qipao as it slipped away, tracing the freesia embroidery as it cascaded from Meng Xuran’s shoulders to the slit at her thigh—then froze.

Her gaze darkened, fixated on the C-shaped adhesive lingerie beneath—the kind designed for backless dresses, secured with sticky tabs that would hurt if tugged carelessly. The surrounding skin was smooth and bare.

Bo Mingyan’s stare burned. Meng Xuran’s lashes fluttered, her breath hitching as she instinctively crossed her legs.

Her feet, still in heels, brushed against Bo Mingyan.

Not wanting her to catch a chill, Bo Mingyan forced herself to look away, draping the qipao over her arm before grasping Meng Xuran’s ankle. Trying to sound unaffected, she asked, “Why this style?”

“The fabric is too clingy. Anything else would leave lines,” Meng Xuran slid off the counter, her heels clicking against the tile. She turned her back to Bo Mingyan, her voice trembling, “Unhook me.”

She said “unhook,” but her upper body leaned away, the kitten-shaped adhesive tab peeking between her thighs.

“Cute, isn’t it? My little kitten,” Meng Xuran drawled, her voice dripping with sugar.

She swayed slightly, the kitten wobbling in Bo Mingyan’s line of sight.

Bo Mingyan undid the clasp, her fingers grazing the tab—only for Meng Xuran to stop her.

“You haven’t answered me,” she challenged.

“The kitten isn’t cute,” Bo Mingyan wrapped an arm around her from behind, pulling her close. “The little fox is.”

“Manman,” Meng Xuran’s breath hitched as Bo Mingyan’s hand settled over her chest. “Your heartbeat is so fast.”

In the mirror, Meng Xuran bit her lower lip. Her eyes, already red from crying, burned even hotter at the edges, glistening with unshed tears. “If you… touch me… it’ll calm down.”

Bo Mingyan’s eyes darkened like a forest at midnight.

“Top or bottom?” Her mood tonight was as deep as her gaze.

Meng Xuran blinked slowly, surprised by Bo Mingyan’s boldness—then smiled. “What do you want?”

“Both,” Bo Mingyan murmured against her ear. “Little fox, will you let me?”

“Greedy,” Meng Xuran arched a brow, her gaze regal as it swept sideways.

“Dreams can come true,” Bo Mingyan countered.

Meng Xuran’s lips curled into a smirk. “Then beg me. Beg me, and I’ll make your dreams come true~”

Bo Mingyan plucked the jade hairpin from Meng Xuran’s bun, letting her dark hair cascade like a waterfall over her own wrist—pale as snow. She turned Meng Xuran’s face toward her, kissing her earlobe as she whispered, low and rough, “Please.”

Meng Xuran didn’t answer. Instead, bracing herself against the counter, she let go.

The kitten lifted, drawing closer.

Bo Mingyan stroked its head, her fingers trailing down to its tail—damp with dew.

Curling her fingers, she brushed Meng Xuran’s hair aside with her other hand, kissing her cheek as she coaxed in the softest, most intoxicating voice:

“Little fox… call me sister.”

“Sister…” Meng Xuran whimpered, the word breaking as she arched back, her breath coming in sharp gasps.

Moonlight spilled through the window, its silver glow weaving through the clouds like a river of stars.

——

After their shower, Meng Xuran sat cross-legged on the bed in a silk nightgown, her hair down, nibbling on the fruit Bo Mingyan had bought her to rehydrate. Bo Mingyan, meanwhile, painted her toenails a soft pink—tiny, delicate strokes that made her feet look even more adorable.

Meng Xuran held out a piece of honeydew. “So sweet.”

Just as Bo Mingyan leaned in to take it, Meng Xuran pulled back, popping it into her own mouth. Then, with a mischievous grin, she leaned in, offering the other half between her lips. Bo Mingyan’s eyes softened as she bit down, letting Meng Xuran feed her the rest—along with a playful nip.

A trickle of juice escaped, which Meng Xuran promptly licked away. Smugly, she asked, “Isn’t it sweet?”

Bo Mingyan shot her a look. “Very.”

Only then did Meng Xuran fetch a tissue to wipe her chin.

To prevent further mischief, Bo Mingyan changed the subject, voicing a question that had been on her mind: “Did you have anything to do with He Chencheng and his crew getting reported?”

Meng Xuran leaned back against the headboard. “Half and half.”

“How so?” Bo Mingyan carefully cleaned up a smudge of polish.

“I wanted to teach him a lesson. Someone else wanted to teach his buddy Shao Zishi a lesson. I gave them a key contact, and they took care of the whole group in one go,” Meng Xuran explained.

Bo Mingyan remembered: “The person you video-called during Qingming Festival?”

“Mm. Gu Yuwei’s patron. Shao Zishi sold our designs, deliberately pushing Gu Yuwei into the spotlight and stirring up rumors about her having a sugar daddy. His D-list actress girlfriend then slandered her everywhere, leading to six months of cyberbullying. Her patron wasn’t happy,” Meng Xuran ate the strawberry’s tip, handing the rest to Bo Mingyan before offering a whole one. “Did you see the people in the video?”

Bo Mingyan thought back. “A man in a suit and a woman who seemed blind?”

“Mm~” Meng Xuran shrugged. “If she weren’t blind, she’d own the entertainment industry—a triple-threat, a trophy collector. What a shame.”

Bo Mingyan had little interest in celebrity gossip and steered the conversation back. “Who was the key contact?”

“Oh~ Lu Shan’s ex.” Meng Xuran admired her freshly painted toes, pleased. “That two-timing radish was something else. When he leaked those photos of us, he told Lu Shan it was to ‘help a brother out.’ Turns out, when it’s brother vs. money, brothers can go to hell.”

Bo Mingyan chuckled. “Why ‘radish’?”

Meng Xuran grinned. “Pull up a radish, and the mud comes with it.”

Bo Mingyan burst out laughing. “So he sold out He Chencheng and Shao Zishi?”

“Yep. Gave up the intel and bolted.” Meng Xuran giggled, remembering the update from Gu Yuwei’s side. “Honestly, He Chencheng’s luck is the worst. During that brawl, Shao Zishi and the radish both ran—he got beaten to a pulp and arrested. Then the prostitution tip was meant for Shao Zishi, but they got the room number wrong—He Chencheng got busted instead. And the drugs—well, you know.”

Bo Mingyan nodded, satisfied.

This was Meng Xuran’s version of “killing with a borrowed knife”—clean, with no loose ends.

“Any more questions?” Meng Xuran asked.

Bo Mingyan shook her head. “It’s late. You have an interview tomorrow—get some rest.”

Meng Xuran scooted over, latching onto Bo Mingyan the moment she lay down. “I’m not sleepy. I don’t want to sleep.”

“Then what do you want to do?” Bo Mingyan turned to face her.

Meng Xuran kissed her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her lips—soft pecks that grew deeper, more insistent. Her answer was blunt: “I don’t want to sleep. I want to sleep with—”

She paused, her eyes locking onto Bo Mingyan’s—no words needed.

Bo Mingyan held her gaze, exasperated. “You have work tomorrow. Aren’t you tired?”

Hearing her mimic her earlier whine, Meng Xuran laughed. “Not tired~ You’re the one who’ll be tired~”

Bo Mingyan rolled her eyes.

Meng Xuran wriggled closer, whispering in her ear—a single sentence that made Bo Mingyan freeze.

She had never tried it before. The unknown made her nervous, so she pressed her lips together, silent.

No agreement, but no refusal either.

“Please? Just once,” Meng Xuran wheedled, her voice a sugary purr. “Manman~”

“Sister~” She amped up the charm.

Bo Mingyan’s lashes fluttered. Normally, she’d refuse—but when Meng Xuran called her jiejie like that, she was powerless. The rejection died on her tongue.

After a long pause, she sighed. “You have two minutes to get it. After that, no more.”

Meng Xuran scrambled out of bed, darting off to retrieve it.

Late at night, the room was bathed in moonlight like a sheer veil.

The buzzing of a phone finally ceased.

Silence fell, broken only by ragged breathing—like someone gasping for air after nearly drowning. Gradually, it evened out.

The loss of control was unsettling. Bo Mingyan curled up like a languid cat, spent.

The bedside lamp cast a warm glow as Meng Xuran gazed at Bo Mingyan’s profile—the fine hairs on her skin, the sheen of sweat at her temples. She wiped it away gently, kissing the tip of her nose, the corner of her lips.

Cradling Bo Mingyan in her arms, she nuzzled her neck and murmured, “Goodnight, kitten. I’ll always love you.”

“More than you know.”

Bo Mingyan’s throat was too dry, her body too exhausted to speak. She tightened her arms around Meng Xuran—a hug worth a thousand words.

——

Time flew when they were together, especially during reunions filled with indulgence. Bo Mingyan had lost track of the days—until Meng Xuran stayed up past midnight to wish her a happy birthday, gifting her a handmade keychain featuring anthropomorphized versions of their cat and fox.

“I was afraid something expensive would stress you out,” Meng Xuran fretted. “I thought about it for ages—is this too cheap?”

“It’s priceless,” Bo Mingyan adored it, hanging it on her keys that very night.

Without Meng Xuran, she might have forgotten her own birthday. No one else would have reminded her.

But Meng Xuran called it her favorite day—because it was the day her Manman was born.

The last person to say such things had been Bo Weize.

After his death, the date had lost its meaning—because the other person who brought her into this world never celebrated it.

But this year was different.

On the morning of May 21st, Bo Mingyan had planned to take Meng Xuran directly to Haishi for a short vacation before returning to Nanquan. But then, a phone call disrupted everything.

Lin Huixin had called earlier, but Bo Mingyan didn’t answer.

That afternoon, as they packed their bags to leave, her phone rang again—an unknown number. A woman confirmed her identity before getting to the point: “Excuse me, are you a family member of Ms. Lin Huixin?”

Bo Mingyan hesitated, then replied, “Yes.”

The woman explained that Lin Huixin’s mental state had deteriorated. She had been hospitalized for some time, had been improving, but her son’s recent troubles had triggered a relapse. After finally stabilizing, she had suddenly remembered her daughter’s birthday and wanted to see Bo Mingyan—possibly for the last time.

Bo Mingyan stood by the window, silent.

This city wasn’t like Nanquan. Instead of parasol trees, it had camphor trees—not tall, but with dense, emerald canopies that resembled umbrellas.

But only resembled.

After a long pause, Bo Mingyan said, “I’m sorry. I don’t have time to see her today.”

Yet despite her words, after discussing it with Meng Xuran, they returned to Nanquan and went to the hospital. Because Lin Huixin had said this would be their final meeting.