Chapter 47 Part 1

Meng Ning had once categorically told Qi Xiao that the fleeting affections of youth were not enough to bridge the vast expanse of years, nor to pierce through the starkly different realities of their present lives.

Life had ground her down too harshly. She had once been vibrant and unrestrained, but now she was a thorough pessimist.

No luck. No exceptions.

So why had Wen Zenian placed her trust in Meng Ning? Why make her the one special person?

She lowered her head to look at her fingers. Physical closeness could, in a way, reach the mind.

Did Wen Zenian… like her?

The absurd thought surfaced for the first time.

But her gaze slowly shifted upward, landing on the mark at her wrist.

It wasn’t too shocking, was it? A winding line—she didn’t scar easily, and after five years, with her fair skin, it had faded into an old trace, blending seamlessly with her complexion.

During their foreplay earlier, Wen Zenian’s fingers had pressed one by one against her fingertips, rubbing gently, sliding downward, her pad brushing over that scar.

In that moment, Meng Ning’s heart had nearly leaped from her chest, terrified that Wen Zenian would ask what had happened.

But Wen Zenian’s fingers had glided away like water, continuing to caress her forearm.

Even after their lovemaking ended, as Wen Zenian leaned against the wall, fastening her shirt buttons one by one, she had only casually asked who else besides the faithful wore Buddha beads—her tone so indifferent.

If you truly liked someone, wouldn’t you feel any curiosity about them?

Meng Ning turned off the water, wrung her long hair to half-dry, and slipped the Buddha beads back onto her wrist before emerging from the bathroom.

She lay down on the bed, still unable to figure it out.

She had indeed dreamed of Wen Zenian.

In the dream, things were even more outrageous and unrestrained, trying every position that had flickered through her mind in reality but gone unrealized.

Perhaps even in her dreams, she wanted to see it.

She wanted to see the faint flush bursting across Wen Zenian’s pale skin like something absurd, to see the creases forming on Wen Zenian’s slacks from her half-kneeling posture, to see the black lace straps tangled with her shirt, dangling from her snowy shoulders.

To see Wen Zenian’s composure shatter because of her.

Her possessiveness and greed ran deep into her bones, leaving her restless even in sleep.

When she woke from the dream, her mouth felt dry. She sat up in bed and stared blankly for a moment.

A glance at her phone showed it was four in the morning. Her sleep was always like this—fragmented and unrestful. As expected, she couldn’t fall back asleep, but she didn’t get up for water. Instead, she walked to the window, pushed it open, and lit a cigarette for herself.

Using the lighter she had secretly pocketed from Wen Zenian.

She held the cigarette between her fingers, gazing down at the market below. Vendors were starting to set up, the hum of small trucks and indistinct dialects drifting up.

Her T-shirt and her face were both startlingly pale. When she wasn’t smiling, a growing weariness showed through, impossible to hide.

If Wen Zenian really liked her, then this was…

Trouble.

The next day, Song Xiao had gone to work early. Meng Ning saw that Qi Xiao still hadn’t gotten up by nearly noon, so she went over and knocked on her door. “Qi Xiao?”

Qi Xiao cracked the door open, peeking out—full makeup already on.

Seeing Meng Ning alone, she whispered conspiratorially, “Where is she?”

“She left last night.”

“Huh?” Qi Xiao flung the door open and stepped out. “She left last night? What did you do to her? Are you really that hopeless?”

Meng Ning glanced at her, words on the tip of her tongue, then hesitated.

They turned into, “Hurry up and wash up. Breakfast is getting cold—the soy milk, I mean.”

Qi Xiao brushed her teeth, sputtering foam, and mumbled reassurances around the toothbrush. “It’s fine, if you’re no good, you’re no good. Everyone has to learn and improve, right? I’ll find you some more study materials later…”

Meng Ning said nothing. Qi Xiao wiped the foam from her lips with a towel and sat at the table, eyeing her. She sucked in a breath. “Whoa, those dark circles… Did you strike out, or did you go too hard and scare her off?”

Then, earnestly advising, “Ning, it’s understandable to be eager your first time playing the top, but take it easy. She’s our Lesbian Circle Hottie, after all. Just… take it easy.”

Meng Ning picked up a piece of fried dough and dropped it into Qi Xiao’s soy milk bowl. “Put some food in that mouth to shut it.”

Qi Xiao giggled, bit into the dough, and soy milk squirted everywhere, splattering the table. She grabbed napkins to mop it up while asking, “So how’d she end up here last night?”

“Probably just had too much to drink and needed a place to crash.”

“But you,” Qi Xiao said, her expression complicated as she looked at her, “didn’t even let her rest.”

It was true—sometimes things were just like that.

Qi Xiao knew Meng Ning liked Wen Zenian and that Wen Zenian would be leaving in just over a week.

But besides cracking jokes and fooling around with a smile, what better way was there to handle it?

That evening, the two took a speedboat back to the island.

A yacht pulled into the dock, and Qi Xiao glanced over. Stepping off was Chen Luzi, in a short cocktail dress.

“Hi,” Qi Xiao greeted proactively.

Chen Luzi spotted them under the dock lights and laughed brightly. “Hi, Sharon, Cara.”

They were all going on the island experience tour—acquaintances, not quite friends. Luckily, Qi Xiao the extrovert put her social skills to work. “That dress is gorgeous.”

Her short cocktail dress resembled rose petals, complementing her honeyed skin. Her makeup was vibrant, lashes long like butterfly wings, and she wore dangling bell-shaped earrings that layered without looking gaudy. Her smile added to her delicate charm. “Thanks.”

Meng Ning couldn’t help stealing a quiet glance at her.

She was the type of girl like rosewater—light and transparent, easy to see through.

She wasn’t close with Qi Xiao or Meng Ning, just linked by the island tour and a game of beach volleyball, but she chatted amiably anyway. “I went to a friend’s yacht party yesterday and partied straight through till now.”

“Yesterday?” Meng Ning spoke up suddenly.

Qi Xiao shot her a look.

After two years together, Meng Ning was easygoing but never the type to strike up conversations.

Chen Luzi curved her lips. “Yeah, it started yesterday and went on for two whole days and nights. I’m wiped out.”

Meng Ning smiled faintly.

The three walked toward the hotel, and when they crossed the beach, unlike Wen Zenian in heels on the boardwalk, Chen Luzi walked on the sand with them, casually slipping off her high heels to carry them.

She sighed contentedly. “I love the feel of sand under my feet.”

They parted ways in front of the hotel’s main building. Chen Luzi didn’t mind the sand in her shoes and waved cheerfully at Meng Ning and Qi Xiao. “Good night!”

Her rose-like cocktail dress vanished into the evening sky streaked with sunset. Meng Ning and Qi Xiao continued on, descending the steps to the staff dorms half-buried underground.

It was then that Qi Xiao asked, “What was that about yesterday?”

“Hm?” Meng Ning walked ahead, and with her head lowered, Qi Xiao could just glimpse the tattoo at the back of her neck.

“Alexis said she was at a yacht party yesterday. Why’d you look so surprised?”

Because.

In her mind, Meng Ning said that Wen Zenian had claimed no investor meeting yesterday, yet she’d clearly drunk a lot when she came to the rental. Meng Ning had guessed Chen Luzi was celebrating her birthday for her.

But now she realized Chen Luzi had no idea yesterday was Wen Zenian’s birthday.

Otherwise, given her infatuation with Wen Zenian, she never would have gone to some yacht party.

Did Wen Zenian still dislike birthdays as much as ever?

Meng Ning pondered, then smiled at Qi Xiao. “Partied a long time, huh? Young people have stamina.”

Qi Xiao snorted. “How old are you? Talking like you’re ancient. With those dark circles, how’s your stamina bad…”

She kept up the banter all the way, not noticing Meng Ning suddenly stop at the dorm door. They nearly collided.

“Whoa!” Qi Xiao yelped. “Good thing I reacted fast. Two tops crashing—what a tragedy for the ages.”

The sun was setting then.

Orange-gold clouds spread across the horizon, but only a sliver of light filtered through the basement window’s third.

Meng Ning said, “Yesterday was her birthday.”

Qi Xiao froze.

Meng Ning had hesitated for a long time, actually.

She wondered if the teenage Wen Zenian, after crossing to Britain to live with her aunt, had ever come to like birthdays.

Just like how Wen Zenian had stood in the temple in high heels, her slender figure dappled with light filtering through the treetops, saying flatly that she didn’t believe in gods or Buddhas.

From Wen Zenian’s resume, she was always jetting around the world, with no time to return to Britain.

Was she not close with her aunt?

Did her aunt even remember her birthday?

Yesterday, besides Meng Ning, had anyone else wished her a happy birthday?

Meng Ning repeated, “Yeah, yesterday—March 20th—was her birthday.”

She had no right to expect Qi Xiao to remember anything.

She just inexplicably wanted that if Qi Xiao did remember…

Then besides her, there would be at least one other person in the world who thought of Wen Zenian on March 20th.

“The group never releases managers’ personal info,” Qi Xiao ventured. “You knew from before?”

“Yeah.” Meng Ning opened the dorm door, and Qi Xiao followed her in, tossing her bag onto the foot of her bed.

Qi Xiao’s mind was a jumble.

As she unpacked her clean uniform into the closet, she thought: even Chen Luzi didn’t know Wen Zenian’s birthday, yet Wen Zenian had come to find Meng Ning that day.

Was the importance she placed on Meng Ning just for one dream?

Qi Xiao turned to see Meng Ning hanging up workout clothes and opened her mouth, but held back.

Until Meng Ning closed the closet door and asked, “Aren’t you unpacking?”

“Oh, right, coming.”

Qi Xiao figured she shouldn’t speculate wildly.

Giving someone false hope and then shattering it was the cruelest thing.

Two days later, Meng Ning finally went to see Wen Zenian.

Wen Zenian sat on the edge of the sofa, files scattered on the low table—still a pack of cigarettes, the hotel-branded lighter, and a slender crystal wine glass with just a shallow remnant of white wine at the bottom.

Meng Ning approached. Without looking up, Wen Zenian said, “Wait a sec.”

“Okay.”

Meng Ning sat down and turned to gaze out at the terrace.

Tonight was high tide; from here, she could see tiny wave crests. The broad beach stretched to tropical palms, and under the moonlight, the billowing white curtains evoked an endless summer.