Chapter 23 Part 1

Meng Ning thought this as she glanced back over her shoulder.

But the night was empty and desolate. No matter how she looked, there was no sign of the slender figure she had imagined lurking there.

She took a drag from her cigarette and headed toward the staff cafeteria.

Wen Zenian’s lighter was still tucked in her pants pocket, bumping lightly against her leg with every step.

That was life, though—full of dashed expectations when you braced yourself for something, and blindside surprises when you least expected them.

To get from outdoors back to the staff cafeteria, she had to pass a lounge. Employees sometimes lingered there after meals if they weren’t in a rush, chatting idly for a bit.

Everyone was at the group dinner right now, so the lounge should have been empty. But as Meng Ning walked toward the cafeteria, she caught a glimpse from the corner of her eye: a flash of black skirt hem spilling over the edge of the lounge sofa.

Curiosity killed the cat, after all.

Truth be told, Meng Ning had drunk a little too much. Her brain was slower than usual, and before she could process what that black skirt hem might mean, she instinctively turned her head to look.

And locked eyes with Wen Zenian.

Her fingertips curled slightly. She had stopped abruptly, and the lighter in her pocket bumped her leg again from the momentum, its presence suddenly overwhelming.

This Little Thief felt a pang of guilt and had no choice but to walk over to Wen Zenian.

The lounge sofa was styled like a Beauty Recliner, crafted from black rosewood with South Seas-inspired rattan weaving. Wen Zenian reclined there, her black evening gown transforming her into a flowing shadow of the night.

Her eyes had been half-lowered at first, but they flicked upward lightly at the sound of footsteps.

The woman before her stood ramrod straight, like a student facing the dean. Wrapped in her sea-mist-blue tracksuit, she looked even more delicate in frame.

And her eyes. Wen Zenian thought, Meng Ning had a pair of truly beautiful eyes.

They were so starkly black and white that they sometimes seemed cold and detached—like the idea that if the water’s too clear, no fish will live in it. So when that restrained, limited concern of hers slipped through even a little, it easily created the illusion of special attention.

Wen Zenian raised her hand and lightly touched the small diamond earring on her earlobe. Meng Ning noticed it was an unconscious habit of hers.

The diamond’s hardness seemed to accentuate softness, drawing Meng Ning’s gaze to that tender lobe for an extra moment.

Only then did she speak. “Are you all right?”

Wen Zenian had drunk more than a little herself, a faint flush tinting the corners of her eyes. It was rare on her face, since her makeup was always rational earth tones—from eyeshadow to blush to lipstick, she never chose reds.

So this flush spreading from her eye corners toward her temples was like a box of rouge spilled across clear, cold snow—rose-infused, like a fiercely burning spring. The stark contrast made it hit like a shock:

Beauty could be breathtaking.

And yet Wen Zenian’s expression remained utterly rational, creating another layer of intoxicating contradiction. She shook her head lightly—beauties were always miserly with their movements, just as her gestures were always small, and so was this shake, merely a subtle tilt of her chin.

Such refined allure was utterly unfair.

Meng Ning tamped down her heartbeat and took a step back. “Then I’ll head back to the cafeteria.”

Perhaps Wen Zenian watched her retreating back. Perhaps not.

“Meng Ning.”

Meng Ning turned to see Wen Zenian shift her position, propping one elbow on the sofa’s backrest so her slender fingers could gently rub her temple.

Her fingertips circled lightly, dispersing the flush that had crept from her eye corners. As they lifted away, it gathered again—wave upon vivid wave, like a lotus pond dotted by dragonfly wings.

That pose made Meng Ning realize Wen Zenian had been watching her back all along.

But she waited until Meng Ning had taken one step, two, three—and was on the verge of a fourth—before calling out. “Come here.”

Meng Ning stood there, twisting at the waist to look back, frozen in place. The air felt strangely tense, like a standoff.

The alcohol surged upward, sending that flush from Wen Zenian’s eye corners climbing toward her delicate eyelids. Her features were bold, but her eyelids thin, her lips thin too—lending her a fragile sort of aloofness.

It made you know she would never fall for you, yet still want to shatter her, to claim her.

Or perhaps it was exactly because she wouldn’t that you wanted to.

Meng Ning walked back and stood before her.

Wen Zenian’s eyelids lifted a fraction more, her slender fingers propping her head as she tilted it upward. The motion of drawing Meng Ning into her view wasn’t rushed; it felt strangely like a flower unfurling.

“I couldn’t ask this in the office,” she said. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Can I ask now?”

It was phrased as a question, but her tone held utter certainty, as if she knew no one would refuse her.

For some reason, that confidence irked Meng Ning. She stood silently, saying nothing.

She continued. “Are you resigning because I kissed you?”

Meng Ning shook her head at once. “No. I planned it from the start—once I saved my hundredth person, I’d leave.”

Wen Zenian gave a small dip of her chin. “I suppose I thought too highly of myself.”

“The kiss was an accident,” Meng Ning said. “So, you’ll approve it, right?”

Wen Zenian’s gaze lowered again. From Meng Ning’s downward view, it was like dense flower shadows. Ignoring the question, she asked casually, “Anything you want to do before you leave?”

“Um?”

“Don’t people often have those thoughts before leaving a place? Visiting all the spots one last time, eating all the favorite foods again.”

Meng Ning thought it over carefully.

She had been on this island for five years. She had been everywhere worth going, tasted the best foods, drunk the finest wines. But now that departure loomed, none of it held her back.

Truth be told, the only things truly on her mind were two small regrets—

“I wanted to finish the last volume of that sci-fi series. And figure out what really happened that night in your room.”

The unknown was always hard to let go.

It was like leaving loose ends behind, a thread of the mind tugged, preventing her from coming into the world bare and leaving it the same.

But then Meng Ning felt a sense of release. “Though, it doesn’t really matter.”

She had accepted long ago that life was full of regrets.

Wen Zenian stood and walked to Meng Ning’s side. In her evening gown, her heels were higher, the fishtail skirt draping down and concealing most of the shoes—only the fine stilettos peeked out, making her already slender waist seem even more graceful.

At that height, she towered half a head over Meng Ning, tilting her chin down slightly to speak. Meng Ning realized Wen Zenian wasn’t wearing her usual perfume tonight.

This one blended tuberose, exuding a mature seductiveness. Her breath carried it as she spoke, brushing Meng Ning’s ear. “I can help you with that.”

She didn’t seem drunk at all as she walked away.

Meng Ning looked down.

In her palm, Wen Zenian had slipped a keycard.

The keycard to Wen Zenian’s Administrative Suite.

Meng Ning returned to the cafeteria.

With management gone, the atmosphere relaxed instantly. Qi Xiao was playing a finger-guessing game with Ju Mengya. “One frog with three legs, two eyes and eight mouths!”

What nonsense, Meng Ning thought with a hooked smile, pouring herself another glass of Chardonnay.

Qi Xiao turned and stopped her. “Didn’t they all go out to sober up? Why are you still drinking?”

“This wine’s too good.” Meng Ning smiled. “Hits fast, fades fast.”

“Don’t just drink straight—join the game!”

Meng Ning nodded. “Sure.”

Qi Xiao scooted her chair around to face her.

To guests, C Hotel was a dream made real. To staff, it was the opposite—the dream was the tip of the iceberg above the waves, and they were the ones below, shoulders straining to hold it up.

Exhausting work, with few moments of true relaxation.

Qi Xiao recited the drinking chant and glanced at Meng Ning.

When she first arrived at C Hotel and was assigned to room with Meng Ning, she had been nervous. Meng Ning looked too beautiful and aloof, always with her long black hair pinned up, a string of Buddha beads around her wrist—seeming unapproachable.

But living together revealed Meng Ning was easygoing, not pretentious at all. She ate barbecue, devoured crayfish, bit the cap off a bottle when there was no opener, and grinned at scratch-off wins.

And now, sitting across playing the game so casually, a faint smile on her lips, those stark black-and-white eyes sparkling.

When she won, she tapped the table edge with her long fingers. “You lose. Drink.”

“Ning, you’re leaving soon. There’s something I don’t know if I should say.”

Meng Ning just smiled at her.

“Hey, it’s such a shame—we could’ve been a match, if we weren’t both tops…”

Meng Ning shoved a hunk of watermelon into her mouth.

Qi Xiao chomped a big bite, grinning around the rind.

When the dinner broke up, everyone headed out together. Passing the lounge, Meng Ning glanced in—the black rosewood Beauty Recliner looked far less alluring without a beauty reclining on it.

How long had their dinner lasted? The tuberose scent clinging to it must have faded completely by now.

Outside the cafeteria, Meng Ning told Qi Xiao and the others, “You all head back to the dorms. I’m going for a walk.”

Ju Mengya frowned. “It’s so late.”

But Qi Xiao knew better. “Meng Ning doesn’t sleep well. Just… it’s late, and you’ve been drinking, so no swimming, okay?”

Meng Ning nodded and watched her teammates disappear before heading alone toward the sea.

The nighttime ocean always felt safe.

Perhaps because it was so dark and vast—any story tossed into it wouldn’t even ripple the surface.

On the beach, a hermit crab kept vigil with her, the only two souls awake.

Meng Ning kicked off her shoes and socks and walked toward the water, then stopped and closed her eyes.

Soon, the waves crashed in as expected. In the cooling night air, the chill sharpened her senses.

She felt the water wrap her ankles, stirring up fine sand that sent an itchy tingle straight to her heart.

She retreated, grabbed her shoes and socks, rinsed her feet in the staff shower, straightened herself up, and then headed to the staff elevator.

Wen Zenian’s Administrative Suite was on the top floor. Meng Ning stood in the corner, hands in pockets, watching the red numbers climb.

Until a ding—like a strike to the heart.

The metal doors slid open to reveal an abstract painting. She recalled the employee handbook saying it drew inspiration from canna lilies; Meng Ning couldn’t see it, only a blaze of searing crimson-gold.

She walked to the room at the corridor’s end, the long-pile carpet so plush it seemed ready to swallow her whole.

The corridor wall lamps embedded with glass glowed softly, easing all defenses.