Chapter 49 Part 2

When she pushed open the door, Qi Xiao was pacing anxiously around the room like an ostrich with its head buried in the sand. The moment she saw Meng Ning, she darted over. “Are you okay?”

The staff had all sorts of group chats, and plenty of people had witnessed the evening’s events. Qi Xiao must have already gotten the news.

Meng Ning curved her lips into a smile. “I’m fine.”

“I wanted to send you a message,” Qi Xiao said. “But then I heard Gwyneth had taken you away. I didn’t want to interrupt you two.”

“Mm.” Meng Ning realized she should have messaged Qi Xiao first. She had no idea how long Qi Xiao had been wearing a path in the carpet, so she took her by the arm and led her to sit on the edge of the bed. “She took me to her room to shower and change clothes, and then I came straight back.”

Qi Xiao nodded. “Good, as long as you’re okay. I was scared to death. What about her?”

Meng Ning paused. Qi Xiao held up her phone to show her.

Someone had snapped a photo of Wen Zenian leading her away. Meng Ning was draped in a suit jacket, head down, with only a partial profile captured in the frame. Wen Zenian was the main subject.

Wen Zenian’s lips were pressed thin, and she was walking briskly, so her figure had a slight blur of motion. But her face was captured in crystal clarity: brows like distant mountains, lips a delicate flush.

A streak of blood on her face served as a strange ornament, making her appear both powerful and fragile.

Meng Ning lowered her eyes to study the photo.

“I wasn’t going to ask this,” Qi Xiao said, sitting across from her. “But have you ever thought… that maybe she really does like you?”

Meng Ning looked up and handed the phone back to Qi Xiao.

Qi Xiao took it. “I heard the financing deal fell through.”

“When did you hear that?”

Qi Xiao gave her a timestamp.

Meng Ning did the math. That must have been around the time she was showering, while Wen Zenian waited outside.

“I’ve never seen Gwyneth lose her temper before. It was terrifying.”

Meng Ning kept her head slightly lowered, her fingers pressing against the edge of the bed, rubbing absently.

Tonight, she had asked Wen Zenian if she needed to go back and clean up the mess. Wen Zenian had been calm, and Meng Ning had assumed there would be some way to salvage it.

After all, Wen Zenian was so capable.

But now Qi Xiao was telling her the financing had fallen apart.

Meng Ning had considered the possibility that Wen Zenian liked her ever since she realized Wen Zenian had only ever been intimate with her.

But it made no sense.

Qi Xiao tried to analyze it for her. “Look, you’re the type who seems easygoing, but you’re actually pretty hard to approach. Anyone who tries to pursue you gets shot down right away. If she didn’t act like she wasn’t interested in you, wouldn’t you have run off ages ago?”

She was right. Meng Ning would have bolted long before.

She couldn’t afford to accept anyone’s affection, especially not Wen Zenian’s.

Qi Xiao studied her expression. “Do you… want to go find her?”

Meng Ning considered it. “Yes.”

Qi Xiao jumped in immediately. “Go, go, go. You need to clear the air, right?”

Meng Ning stood and headed for the door.

The spring night after the rain smelled sweetly of fresh grass and foliage, serene and inviting. Meng Ning used her key card to open Wen Zenian’s door, though she had no idea if the business world Wen Zenian faced was a storm of blood and fury.

Meng Ning stepped inside.

The lamp in the secondary living room was on, but no one was there. Wen Zenian had poor habits when she worked—cigarettes, alcohol, and documents littered the low table. A breeze stirred, sending the pages fluttering lightly.

Meng Ning’s gaze followed the breeze toward the balcony.

Wen Zenian stood there, one hand resting on the pale marble railing. She turned to look back.

Suddenly, Meng Ning recalled the first time she had seen her.

It had been at the annual gala. She had stood at the very edge of a balcony like this, draped in a floor-length black evening gown. Behind her stretched the beach where sea met sky, and farther out, waves piling into a faint silver crest.

Though the night breeze toyed with the hem of her gown and her long hair, her beauty seemed to halt time itself. It was like a firework frozen at the peak of its bloom, preserving a single moment of splendor forever.

Back then, she had worn a black lace mask. Now, her eyes were framed by meticulously applied, heavy makeup. Meng Ning wondered if Wen Zenian had ever truly removed her mask, even for a moment.

Meng Ning walked over. Between Wen Zenian’s fingers was a slender white cigarette.

The wind blew, scattering silver ash into the air.

Smoke curled from her thin lips as she asked Meng Ning, “Is something wrong?”

Meng Ning felt her insight was too shallow. Even standing this close to Wen Zenian, she detected no trace of bloodshed or storm. Everything here was as soft and yielding as the gauzy curtains fluttering behind her—like a dream, free of worldly worries or schemes.

But Meng Ning had to ask. “I heard the financing fell through. Is that true?”

She wasn’t arrogant, but if this was truly connected to tonight’s events, could she do something about it? Maybe apologize to Eden? Her mind was a muddle. Was holding to her principles more important, or preventing damage to Wen Zenian’s career?

Perhaps, deep down, the latter mattered more to her.

She dreaded any tiny deviation in Wen Zenian’s carefully laid path because of her.

Wen Zenian had once asked her why she never considered her own feelings.

Perhaps because Meng Ning was someone who would soon be gone. In another week, there would be no Meng Ning here. What was the point in overthinking it?

Wen Zenian glanced at her. “I wouldn’t call it a failure. It was a mutual decision.”

“Before tonight’s banquet, I received a risk assessment from the actuaries and spotted a flaw in the contract. Regardless, I would have found a way to terminate it.”

So tonight’s incident had simply become a convenient piece on Wen Zenian’s chessboard.

Meng Ning took half a step back. Wen Zenian turned her head to look at her. “Go back and rest.”

That achingly beautiful, impassive face bore a faint bloodstain against her snowy skin.

Meng Ning nodded.

“Meng Ning.”

Wen Zenian called out as she turned to leave.

“Tonight, I needed to go over things repeatedly with the actuaries on the phone, so I headed somewhere secluded. If I hadn’t happened to witness what happened, what would you have done?”

What would she have done?

Meng Ning hadn’t even had time to think about it.

Wen Zenian curved her lips slightly. “You could call my name. I’d come save you.”

Call her what name?

Wen Min? Wen Zenian? Or Gwyneth?

Probably the last one. She had grown so powerful that even the letter G had become a symbol uniquely hers. On the resignation letter she’d returned to Meng Ning, her signature had been in blue-violet ink: a single “G.”

She said it lightly, like a joke, as if reminding Meng Ning not to take it too seriously. Yet her slender, poised figure was so composed that it inspired unwavering belief. She was the god of this dream realm. One call, and she would descend from the heavens.

Thorns on the royal seat would bloom anew with roses. The dragon would slumber eternally in its sealed cave. She would brush your eyelids, and you would fall into an endless beautiful dream.

Compared to Wen Zenian acting without regard for consequences for her sake, Meng Ning preferred to believe she had simply used tonight’s crisis as a useful pawn.

She wasn’t angry at all. Quietly, she said goodnight to Wen Zenian and retreated.

This time, she left the key card on the low table.

She knew she wouldn’t return.

The next day at work, Meng Ning expected someone to ask about last night’s events.

In fact, not a single person did. Nor did anyone tease her—whether good-naturedly or otherwise—with comments like, “You single-handedly changed the course of the entire C Hotel.”

Word was, the investors had left the island overnight. Last night’s incident, along with the whole investment negotiation, had evaporated like morning dew under the rising sun, leaving no trace.

Wen Zenian had timed the news release perfectly. Meng Ning overheard staff gossiping about the “inside scoop” they’d heard: the financing terms had flaws and had been put on hold.

The financing would have reshuffled existing interests. With the C Hotel’s revenue falling short last year and this deal now a “threat” staring everyone in the face, the management had no choice but to reconsider. Wen Zenian’s optimization plan was certain to be dusted off again.

Meng Ning was at the very bottom of the food chain. She couldn’t even guess if the entire negotiation had been Wen Zenian’s elaborate performance.

A calculated maneuver.

Rumor had it the C Hotel’s financials for the previous quarter were stellar. Before flying to Paris, Wen Zenian could hand the group a glowing report.

No wonder her rise had been so swift. She wrapped everything in the shell of a dream, her true intentions impenetrable.

Meng Ning never sought out Wen Zenian again.

Not until her day off, when she and Qi Xiao left the island together.

It was her last rotation off. The next time she returned to the island, she could go straight to process her resignation.

That also meant Wen Zenian was flying to Paris tomorrow.

Meng Ning’s first day off passed much like any other. She cleaned, cooked lunch, and in the afternoon—while Qi Xiao and Song Xiao went shopping—she puzzled over how to assemble the combination shoe cabinet Song Xiao had bought online.

They had already decided against subletting Meng Ning’s little room; it wouldn’t fetch much anyway, and Qi Xiao and Song Xiao didn’t want strangers moving in. They’d split the rent between them.

As the sun dipped westward, light slanted through the window slats, casting two distorted squares on the wooden floor where Meng Ning sat cross-legged.

The door suddenly opened.

Qi Xiao came in alone, shopping bags in tow. Meng Ning smiled and asked, “Where’s Song Xiao?”

“She went to pick up some braised dishes.” Qi Xiao dumped the bags on the double sofa and grabbed Meng Ning’s arm. “Get up. Hurry.”

“Where to?”

“I checked. There’s a speedboat arriving on the island at seven-thirty tonight. You can catch the subway and make it.” With that, she started shoving Meng Ning toward the door.

“Hey.” Meng Ning laughed, holding her back. “Why do we have to go back to the island tonight?”

“Not we—you!” Qi Xiao shouted. “Meng Ning, stop pretending. Haven’t you ever wanted to ask her one more question? Haven’t you wondered—if the financing hadn’t needed to be scrapped, and she still caught Eden bullying you—what would she have done?”

Would she still have lashed out with that furious slap?

Qi Xiao suddenly burst into tears. “What if she really does like you? You haven’t even tried your hardest to find out. Are you really just going to watch her leave like this?”