Chapter 29 Part 1

Wen Zenian finished reading the last line, then closed her eyes and placed the letter back on the low table beside the bathtub.

The shock belonged solely to Meng Ning. Wen Zenian herself remained utterly serene.

Meng Ning said softly, “I should head back to the dorm.”

Wen Zenian, still with her eyelids shut, let out a lazy hum of acknowledgment.

Meng Ning stepped over to gather up the letter. As she slid it back into the envelope, she stole a glance at Wen Zenian.

The steam had conjured beads of moisture on her sleek neck, where they clung precariously. Her thick lashes cast dense, floral shadows beneath her eyes, and her lips gleamed with a heart-stirring red, their fine lines vivid like the textured petals of a rose.

Wen Zenian didn’t lift her gaze to see Meng Ning off.

Stepping out of the warm, oil-scented Administrative Suite into the cool night breeze sharpened Meng Ning’s senses.

By now it was late. Meng Ning strolled along the gravel path without encountering a soul, lost in thought, her steps dragging unhurriedly.

Fate had a funny way of intervening. The final line Wen Zenian had read from tonight’s story lingered like some ominous prophecy: “If something seems too good to be true, it probably isn’t.”

The words jolted Meng Ning from her daze in an instant.

She, of all people, should have understood this lesson best. Things that felt too good to be true had been proven false in her own life.

Some said a woman’s physiology made it hard to fully separate sex from emotion. She should have been more cautious, should not have let that kiss—falling upon her in sleep, dreamlike and perfectly filling her emptiness—spark visions of tenderness in her mind.

Infatuation was just that: infatuation. Enough to fuel a moment’s indulgence, but not to bear the weight of true, lasting emotion.

Back in the dorm, Meng Ning took a quick shower. She glanced at Qi Xiao, who was sleeping soundly on the other bed—no risk of waking her. Only then did Meng Ning twist on the desk lamp, dimming it to its lowest setting.

She pulled out tonight’s page of the sci-fi story from the envelope.

A droplet from Wen Zenian’s fingertip had stained the paper; now dried, it formed a subtle, uneven petal shape.

Tonight, Meng Ning had only half her attention on the tale, listening distractedly. Propping herself up on one elbow, she leaned under the lamp and read it through again.

Her gaze lingered on the final line. After expounding on the vastness of the cosmos, the sci-fi author had penned it in nearly austere tones—

“If something seems too good to be true, it probably isn’t.”

After every such intimate encounter, Meng Ning did indeed sleep deeply—a pleasant side effect.

The next morning, the alarm blared. Meng Ning dragged herself out of bed and roused Qi Xiao. “Up and at ’em for our long run.”

Qi Xiao sprang up in a flash, but her words were, “How about we skip the extra run today? Just do the regular morning training.”

Meng Ning shot her a glance.

Qi Xiao pressed on with concern. “I’m worried about your stamina!”

“I told you, it’s not like that.” Meng Ning headed to the bathroom. “I’ll be quick washing up. Get moving.”

Qi Xiao sighed and rolled out of bed. The two stuck to their plan: a long run followed by the Lifesaving Team’s morning training.

In the final sprint lap, Qi Xiao pumped her arms beside Meng Ning, stealing glances at her nonstop. “You holding up? Not gonna faint again, are you?”

“If you pass out, don’t push yourself. Your girl’s got you—no more messing up my lines like last time.”

“But before you do, spill: did being the top make you faint, or was it bottoming?”

“Qi Xiao.” Meng Ning called her name with a straight face.

“Yeah?”

“You realize your endurance has improved? Chattering away this much in the final sprint.” With that, Meng Ning pumped her arms and pulled ahead.

“Hey, wait for me! If you don’t, next time you faint, I can’t promise what I’ll yell…”

The morning training wrapped up smoothly.

Meng Ning and Qi Xiao showered quickly in the staff bathroom, changed, and headed to the staff cafeteria for breakfast.

Today’s special was Mickey-shaped pancakes, apparently a prototype from the dessert chef for Children’s Day. Qi Xiao drowned Mickey’s face in honey and popped a piece into her mouth. “Ning, I swear you’ve gotten even prettier lately.”

“That’s just in your head.”

“Nah, it’s real. Spill it—how does a girl who thought she was a top for twenty-odd years suddenly discover she loves bottoming?”

Meng Ning beckoned. “Hand over your knife and fork.”

“What? Gonna carve me up?”

Meng Ning took them and sliced off Mickey’s left ear from the stack, stuffing it into Qi Xiao’s mouth in one go.

Cheeks bulging, Qi Xiao grinned. “But seriously, the experience isn’t half bad, right? Hooking up with a Lesbian Circle Hottie like that—feels like a dream. Once you get it, zero downsides.”

“It’s dreamlike, but not without downsides.”

“What downsides?” Qi Xiao sipped some yogurt to cut the sweetness. “Gwyneth isn’t a nightmare—she’s a total dreamboat, top-tier fantasy.”

“The downside of a beautiful dream,” Meng Ning said calmly, “is that if you get lost in it and forget dreams always end, you’re in real danger.”

After days of gloom, the sky finally cleared, and the beach passed without incident.

Meng Ning and Qi Xiao pulled up the flags marking the swimming zone and headed to the staff cafeteria.

“Veal steaks tonight!” Qi Xiao’s eyes gleamed mischievously.

Simple, restrained seasoning to highlight premium meat quality. As Meng Ning and Qi Xiao sat together, a young man approached. “Hi, I’m Gavin from Admin.”

Qi Xiao caught just that opener and smirked like she was settling in for a show.

Her inner monologue: Here we go again.

She set down her utensils for the moment, watching Meng Ning launch into her routine.

The young man asked, “We’re all colleagues—mind if I add your WeChat?”

Meng Ning replied, “Our elements clash.”

“Huh?”

She jangled the Buddha beads on her wrist. “My family does Buddhism and feng shui—family trade. One look, and it’s clear: five elements clash.”

It sounded like utter nonsense, but Meng Ning’s cool, serene face lent it uncanny credibility.

The young man blinked. “You—you’re serious?”

“Mm-hmm.” Meng Ning nodded. “I can tell your luck’s been rotten lately. Always losing at games.”

“No way!” he exclaimed. “Spot on! So, how do I fix it?”

“Stay far away from me. Don’t even think about it.”

“Huh?”

“For real. I carry a baleful aura—your fate’s not strong enough to handle it.”

He managed a polite goodbye, then bolted.

Qi Xiao nearly choked laughing. “Out of every bad-luck sign, you always pick ‘losing at games.'”

“It’s foolproof.” Meng Ning carved a bite of carrot. “Who wins every game?”

“You got that whatsit—sexual monogamy syndrome or whatever? Anyone shows a spark of interest, and you bolt.” Qi Xiao mused. “Except her.”

“Actually, no.” Qi Xiao reconsidered. “Not even her—’cause you think it’s not real interest, just curiosity.”

“It’s not that.” Meng Ning said, “Just… trouble.”

Qi Xiao huffed. “Classic modern curse—too used to solo freedom. Wait till after your trip. We’ll see who pins you down.”

Meng Ning curved her lips in a smile.

It had nothing to do with freedom, but she had always dodged others’ affections.

She set down her utensils and glanced up to find Wen Zenian in the staff cafeteria, accompanied by the staff dining manager, discussing some matter.

Wen Zenian’s walk in heels was captivating—not contrived grace, but an effortless softness woven into her mature poise.

Meng Ning had no idea how much of the young man’s approach she’d witnessed.

Desire brought longing, too—and possessiveness.

Back in the dorm that evening, Ju Mengya arrived with a dying succulent, begging for rescue. Island humidity wasn’t kind to succulents. Meng Ning and Qi Xiao huddled over their phones, researching remedies.

The three sat around the table when Qi Xiao’s and Ju Mengya’s phones buzzed simultaneously.

Meng Ning had a hunch. Sure enough, Ju Mengya opened the WeChat group and laughed. “Someone snapped a pic of the bombshell.”

Qi Xiao glanced at Meng Ning.

Misreading it, Ju Mengya said, “Meng Ning’s not in the group, right? Wanna see?”

She generously thrust her phone at Meng Ning.

Wen Zenian had plenty of occasions to drink, and tonight featured another banquet. She usually chose black evening gowns, but today—perhaps craving novelty—she surprised in white.

Her striking features suited extremes like black or white. Her white wasn’t the barren white of “alone atop the west tower, scanning the road to the horizon’s end.” It was the white of “turning suddenly, to find her amid the fading lanterns.”

Not the void of life’s beginnings, but the clarity forged by time’s passage.

Her makeup today was subtle—no bold blue-toned red lipstick like yesterday’s. It lent her a harmonious freshness. Only a faint blush at her eye corners tugged her aura toward lingering allure.

She seemed a touch distracted.

Meng Ning spotted it because Wen Zenian was unconsciously stroking the hard, sparkling diamond earrings on her lobe.

When focused, she always held herself alert and upright. Only in these drifting moments—especially after wine—did her eye corners droop just so, unveiling a fleeting seductiveness.

Meng Ning recognized it easily; last night, after Wen Zenian returned, kissed her, and lit the lamps, she’d gazed at her with that exact subtle droop.

Meng Ning felt a twinge of displeasure—such an expression invited wayward thoughts.

But then she reflected: if she hadn’t seen Wen Zenian in the throes of passion, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the allure now.

So what was there to be displeased about?

The thought only irked her more.

Thus, she arrived at that conclusion—”Desire brought longing, too—and possessiveness.”

The first half was debatable; she wasn’t sure if Wen Zenian was thinking of her.

The second half rang true: she wanted to hide away this version of Wen Zenian.

She checked her own phone.

No message from Wen Zenian.

After Ju Mengya left, Meng Ning went for a swim at the beach.

Wave after massive wave crashed over her, submerging her, then buoying her up. The ocean’s boundless expanse underscored her own insignificance and helplessness, which oddly made her feel safe.

As she rose from the waves, her mind cleared somewhat.

So what if their bodies fit together so perfectly? She and Wen Zenian were just a dream spanning less than two months.

Wen Zenian had had others before—and would have others after.

As the thought bubbled up in her mind, Meng Ning felt an itch at the back of her heel. She thought it might be a hermit crab and turned to look. Instead, it was just the gentle waves lapping over her feet—the moon was pulling the tide high, and it was about to come in.