She realized, as she hurried away from the beach, that the idea had actually been festering in her mind for a long time.
It had started all the way back during the first time Wen Zenian brought her to ecstasy. In that fleeting moment of blankness, she had wondered:
Wen Zenian was so skilled because she had practiced on someone else before.
Jealousy was a nasty thing—it gnawed at her relentlessly.
Meng Ning deliberately avoided seeking out Wen Zenian, and Wen Zenian didn’t come looking for her either.
Wen Zenian played the patient role in front of her, waiting for Meng Ning to throw herself into the net.
After morning training that day, Qi Xiao tapped Meng Ning on the shoulder. “You look wiped out. Did you overdo it or something?”
Meng Ning blinked in confusion. ???
Other teammates came over then, and Qi Xiao didn’t say more.
But after their showers, when they headed to breakfast, Qi Xiao mysteriously pulled her to a corner table in the restaurant.
She glanced around furtively to make sure no one was paying attention to them.
Then she pulled a small bottle from her pocket and sprinkled a generous amount into Meng Ning’s milk.
Meng Ning guessed it was booze. “We’ve still got shifts today.”
Qi Xiao whispered, “This is Thousand-Year Goji Berry Essence. I got it off Taobao.”
Meng Ning’s first reaction was, “Thousand-year? Goji berries? How much did you pay? You got scammed, didn’t you?”
Qi Xiao waved her off. “You don’t get it—this stuff’s super tonic. They say it’s most effective if you take it with the first rays of morning sunlight. You’re definitely drained. You haven’t gone looking for you-know-who in days.”
Meng Ning: …
She picked up her milk glass and took a silent sip. She had no idea if it was actually a powerhouse supplement, but the foul taste sure shattered her mental defenses.
Her mouth twitched, and the words tumbled out. “Her ex-girlfriend.”
Qi Xiao looked at her.
Meng Ning hesitated but pressed on. “What kind of person was she?”
At the same time, she told herself: This wasn’t prying into Wen Zenian herself or trying to understand her better.
She was just asking about Wen Zenian’s ex-girlfriend.
To remind herself how ridiculous some of her gut instincts were.
They said God had baked the seven deadly sins into humanity when He created them, and “envy” was one of them. So she needed some method to overcome these ugly human impulses.
Qi Xiao shrugged. “No clue.”
“Huh?”
“For real. We’re total gossips—we tried digging after that gorgeous woman showed up, but we came up empty.”
Just like how the big boss of C Hotel was a mysterious online enigma.
Heirs to old-money families often stayed that way for safety or low-key reasons—no info to be found.
They ran into Wen Zenian as they left the restaurant.
Meng Ning could have accepted either a warm welcome or a dodge, but Wen Zenian just gave her a calm nod. “Hi, Meng Ning.”
Then she nodded to Qi Xiao. “Hi, Sharon.”
Meng Ning returned the greeting coolly. Once Qi Xiao had said hi too, they passed each other by.
Qi Xiao murmured, “You were so cold.”
Meng Ning paused. “Was I?”
“Totally. When you don’t smile, you keep people at arm’s length. And Gwyneth even greeted you first.”
Meng Ning reflected. All her inner turmoil hadn’t shown on her face at all.
What about Wen Zenian, then?
That night, Meng Ning went to find her.
She had no idea that right after she snuck out of her room, Qi Xiao immediately messaged the Taobao seller on her phone: “Your Thousand-Year Goji Berry Essence really works! Gimme some more!”
When Meng Ning swiped her keycard and the door beeped open, Wen Zenian was inside this time.
A light shone from the side living room, stretching out like a line toward the distant shore. The glow couldn’t reach that far; instead, it faded in the air, scattering into tiny, gritty particles.
They seemed to hover and dance around Wen Zenian’s figure.
She was the dream weaver for everyone else, and the whole island bent to her command, lavishing her with atmosphere to highlight her beauty.
She wore her daytime uniform, perched on the edge of the white sofa. The obsidian low table held a messy stack of documents, a glass of white wine beside them, and the cigarette case—still no lighter.
Meng Ning walked over and glanced at the papers. “Should I steer clear?”
Wen Zenian casually lifted the page in her hand. “You into money? Sometimes I get the feeling you’re not interested in anything.”
Meng Ning sat on the sofa, and Wen Zenian noticed her smile was deceptively bright, almost radiant, wiping away her usual aloof vibe. “Oh, I’ve got tons of interests. Good food, good drinks, getting something for nothing. I even saved up some cash for a far-off trip.”
She curved her lips, and Wen Zenian glanced at her. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna say you’re into good looks too.”
Meng Ning grinned wider, and Wen Zenian shook her head. “Better not. Lines that cheesy don’t suit you.”
“Am I cheesy?”
Wen Zenian studied her closely. “At least that face isn’t.”
There it was again. Meng Ning’s heart thudded twice.
That flicker of approval and cherishing in Wen Zenian’s eyes when she looked at her seriously.
It was so quick, like an illusion—or a truth deliberately hidden.
Meng Ning forced herself to meet her gaze until Wen Zenian looked back down at her papers. Silence stretched until she tossed the last page aside. “Close enough.”
She picked up the white wine from the low table and took a sip.
Meng Ning thought it was a bad habit—she smoked heavily as it was, and now drinking while working.
She couldn’t help but comment. “You drink on the job?”
“This is Riesling from a private German vineyard.” Wen Zenian raised the slender-stemmed goblet, mismatched against her delicate fingers. “It’s sweet, low alcohol—won’t mess with my thinking, but it does wonders for my mood.”
“Otherwise, this work.” She glanced down at the messy documents.
Meng Ning asked, “What about it?”
Wen Zenian summed it up. “Infuriating.”
Meng Ning let out a short laugh. Only now did the setup sink in: Wen Zenian sitting alone on one end of the sofa, Meng Ning at a ninety-degree angle on the other, keeping things strictly professional.
Wen Zenian set down her glass. “So, you’re just here to chat tonight?”
Meng Ning was honest. “It’s my period.”
Wen Zenian said “Oh,” looking utterly unconcerned.
Meng Ning asked, “So, me showing up like this—does that mean no sci-fi story tonight?”
Wen Zenian replied amiably, “Of course there is.”
Meng Ning got the answer she wanted, but it left her oddly unsatisfied.
She and Wen Zenian were supposed to be the perfect casual fling, and coming over like this made her the one crossing lines.
Yet Wen Zenian didn’t seem to mind at all. She just asked, “Can you still go in the water during your period?”
“The beach was calm today—no diving. If it’s our turn during a period, they usually prioritize other teammates anyway.”
Wen Zenian nodded, and Meng Ning almost thought she was pondering the hotel’s staffing policies.
But then Wen Zenian asked, “Does your stomach hurt?”
Meng Ning shook her head. She didn’t get cramps.
Wen Zenian arched a brow.
Meng Ning said, “You look a little disappointed.”
Wen Zenian replied, “No chance for me to show off, then.”
A couple of jokes lightened the room’s atmosphere. Wen Zenian asked, “So, shall I read the story to you?”
Meng Ning nodded.
Wen Zenian stood and fetched an envelope from the bedroom.
Meng Ning wondered where Wen Zenian hid these story-filled envelopes. If she just swiped one, would she stop having to come back like this, strung along?
Just a passing thought. Just as Wen Zenian wouldn’t take the Buddha beads from her wrist without permission, Meng Ning wouldn’t do that either.
Casual flings had their own code of ethics.
Wen Zenian sat back on the sofa. “Want to scoot closer? So I don’t sound like some street storyteller.”
Meng Ning smiled and slid over.
Wen Zenian grabbed a cushion and tucked it into her lap. “Lean here.”
Meng Ning hesitated.
“Still shy?” Wen Zenian asked.
“I’m not shy.” Meng Ning lay back against it.
The word “shy” tied too closely to “caring” in her mind.
Wen Zenian grabbed another cushion, dropped it into Meng Ning’s arms for her to hug, then picked up the envelope with one hand while wrapping the other around Meng Ning’s shoulders.
Meng Ning closed her eyes, listening to Wen Zenian’s lowered voice murmur in her ear.
Wen Zenian spoke both Chinese and English with the same fluid clarity, but her take on emphasis was uniquely her own—lightening the tone where you least expected, then hitting a subtle stress note.
No dramatic rises and falls, but it hooked your ears.
Meng Ning thought she heard rain outside. After the Spring Festival, this season always brought more showers. Or maybe it wasn’t rain—just humid sea breezes rustling the sheer curtains.
She opened her eyes.
It was wind. The pale gauzy drapes danced like a dream misted under moonlight.
Wen Zenian said, “Sorry.”
Meng Ning’s lashes paused mid-flutter. She instinctively tried to link the words to the sci-fi story’s context.
Then realized it wasn’t from the story—it was Wen Zenian speaking to her.
“I was deliberately distant to you back in the staff restaurant today.”
She set the envelope aside, and there was Meng Ning, craning her neck to look up at her.
Wen Zenian smiled, sliding the hand from Meng Ning’s shoulder up to gently cover her eyes. Her palm lines were beautifully etched, emotion and life lines crisscrossing vividly, making even the touch of her palm feel tender and lingering.
Without those deep eyes in view, Wen Zenian seemed less inscrutable.
Meng Ning’s lashes brushed lightly against Wen Zenian’s palm, catching one or two soft beams of light leaking through her fingers—like stars.
“I was a little upset,” Wen Zenian said. “Last time I was in the staff restaurant, I saw someone chatting you up.”
Meng Ning lay still for a moment, staring at the stars between her fingers.
Wen Zenian’s words dripped with possessiveness, but her expression stayed neutral. She said nothing more, resuming the story from the envelope.
Two sentences in, Meng Ning suddenly tugged at the hem of her uniform.
Wen Zenian paused, moved her hand aside, and looked down at her.
Meng Ning didn’t meet her eyes, lids half-lowered, but she said, “Can you kiss me?”
