Chapter 62 Part 1

During Qi Xiao’s day off again, she earnestly asked Meng Ning, “Do you think Gwyneth has quit drugs or something?”

Meng Ning paused for a moment. “Impossible. Sure, she loves smoking and drinking, but that’s just her way of blowing off steam from work stress. She…”

Qi Xiao waved her hand. “It’s not just her. I’m guessing you’ve quit too. You’ve held out for a whole week without reaching out to her, and she hasn’t contacted you either.”

Suddenly, she snatched Meng Ning’s phone from the coffee table. “Let me handle this for you. Just make sure you invite me to the head table at your wedding later.”

Meng Ning panicked and lunged for it.

Qi Xiao held it high overhead. “Can’t reach it. Nope, can’t reach.”

Meng Ning flailed for a bit, then thought better of it and gave up.

“You really want me to contact her for you?” Qi Xiao asked. “I can do it. Should I send a message?”

Meng Ning figured she was being too hesitant. No time like the present—if Qi Xiao wanted to send something, let her.

Qi Xiao clutched the phone, mulling over her wording, and was just about to start typing when Meng Ning suddenly said, “Hold on.”

She held out her palm. “Give me the phone. I’ll do it myself.”

This was her first time reaching out to Wen Zenian after deciding to give dating a shot. No matter what, she wanted to do it herself.

“Don’t chicken out,” Qi Xiao warned her.

Who would’ve thought Meng Ning could agonize so fiercely one moment and go bold as brass the next.

She straight-up dialed Wen Zenian’s number.

Qi Xiao nearly yelped, clapping a hand over her mouth.

The phone rang for ages before Wen Zenian’s low, husky voice came through. “Hello?”

It wasn’t just Meng Ning—even Qi Xiao zoned out for a second.

That voice of hers was one of a kind, like stepping into a dark night’s dream amid the blaze of daylight.

Meng Ning hesitated, and Qi Xiao nudged her from the side. Only then did she manage, “Hello.”

Wen Zenian replied, “Mm.”

What was with the “mm”! Qi Xiao clenched her fists. These two just “mm”-ed at each other, and somehow it felt like everything was already understood without words! What was there even left to pursue!

She’d been sitting right there the whole time, yet it was like she’d missed an entire season of drama!

On Wen Zenian’s end, there was a burst of English conversation. Then she murmured some instructions, followed by the click of high heels retreating, until her surroundings fell quiet.

She must have been in the middle of a meeting in her office and had stepped out into the hallway alone.

She didn’t speak, simply waiting in silence.

Meng Ning asked softly, “Did I interrupt you?”

Qi Xiao figured Wen Zenian would say it was no bother.

But instead, Wen Zenian replied, “A little.” She paused, then added, “But I like it.”

Qi Xiao’s fists clenched again. Damn, what a pro move! There’s no way Meng Ning could compete with that! A timid top paired with a dominant bottom—the top usually ends up devoured right down to the bones!

Wait a sec—was Meng Ning even the top here?

Hearing that, Meng Ning stayed perfectly calm. “I figured I might interrupt you.” She paused for two seconds before continuing, “But I kind of wanted to.”

She kind of wanted to interrupt—just a little.

She wanted to squeeze into Wen Zenian’s daily life.

She wanted that even in the midst of dealing with everyone else, Wen Zenian would spare half a minute to think of her.

Qi Xiao was floored again. Damn, another pro move! She’d thought it was a king crushing a noob, but no—this was pro versus pro, every strike lethal!

No wonder she’d once fancied herself Meng Ning’s love guru. Now all she wanted was to whip out her phone’s notes app and furiously jot it all down!

Wen Zenian didn’t respond. All that could be heard was her soft breathing.

Meng Ning asked, “Want to watch a movie?” She quickly clarified, “I mean a normal one.”

Wen Zenian said, “You think that when you ask me to watch a movie, my first thought would be something not normal?”

“Ah, no.” Meng Ning had thought she was doing well, but now she started stumbling over her words. “I mean a regular movie theater. No yacht, no private screening.”

Wen Zenian asked, “You want to take me to a movie?”

“Mm,” Meng Ning said. “When are you free?”

Wen Zenian replied, “Hold on, let me check my schedule with my assistant.”

Meng Ning froze, and then she heard Wen Zenian let out a soft chuckle on the other end.

Meng Ning smiled in response.

Only then did Wen Zenian say, “Whenever I want to be free, I can make time.”

“Then, when do you want to be free?”

“I want to be free tonight.”

Meng Ning’s heart leaped into her throat.

“But let’s do the day after tomorrow,” Wen Zenian said. “Okay?”

Qi Xiao’s bones turned to jelly. A woman with that commanding presence, usually towering over everyone, now speaking so softly, asking you: Okay?

As Wen Zenian uttered those two words—”Okay?”—Meng Ning’s heart settled back down, as if soaking into a warm, gentle tide.

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll buy the tickets and send you the showtime.”

Wen Zenian hummed in acknowledgment. “Then I should head back to my meeting?”

“Mm.”

Neither said goodbye.

When goodbye becomes something you’re certain of in your heart, there’s no need to say it.

Once Meng Ning hung up, Qi Xiao felt like she’d just witnessed an epic showdown atop the Forbidden City—sweat drenched her back.

Pro moves clashing—it was thrilling!

She asked Meng Ning, “What movie are you planning to take her to? Romance? Horror?”

Meng Ning’s answer: “Doesn’t matter.”

Qi Xiao nearly let out a whoop! That was the difference between a pro and a noob. Back when she’d taken someone to the movies, she’d agonized forever over romance or horror!

Qi Xiao made a gesture of utter admiration. “So this counts as your first date? You gotta bring flowers, right? You’re not thinking of just handing her popcorn, are you? Hahaha.”

Meng Ning shot her a look. “Good idea.”

Two days was a perfectly delicate length of time.

Not too long, so that in all your tossing and turning, anxiety wouldn’t eclipse anticipation.

Not too short, so you didn’t gulp down a delicacy whole without time to savor it.

Just right—letting all those emotions ferment, whetting your appetite and expectations to a fever pitch.

So when you stepped out, the evening breeze felt soft, the sunset hues vivid and enchanting. A world that had faded to black-and-white began to regain its colors bit by bit.

And the person responsible for all this stood at the cinema entrance, dressed in a restrained black-and-white ensemble.

Meng Ning broke into a run toward her, took two steps and slowed to a brisk walk, then two more steps and picked up speed again. “How’d you get here before me?”

Wen Zenian glanced at her. “My fault?”

Meng Ning nearly went speechless. “No.”

Wen Zenian, clutching that ridiculously expensive handbag, leaned in closer amid the bustling crowd. The scent of her perfume wafted from behind her ear—tea notes mingled with thyme, the one Meng Ning knew best.

“First date, no experience,” Wen Zenian said, straightening up. “Next time.”

Next time, you’ll arrive first.

Even being late became an indulgence granted to the early bird.

Meng Ning’s heart thudded twice. Wen Zenian really was something—casually slipping in a “next time” like that.

Meng Ning murmured, “This isn’t your first date anyway. You’ve been in relationships before.”

“Excuse me?”

The crowd surged around them, and Wen Zenian bent toward her again, bringing that warm, fragrant aura.

She didn’t repeat it.

Wen Zenian gave a faint laugh, her eyes curving in genuine delight, though not dramatically so. “That’s different.”

What was different? Meng Ning thought. Wen Zenian had clearly heard her.

But someone like Wen Zenian wouldn’t stoop to comparisons—that would disrespect her past relationships and the people in them. She simply said, restrained as ever, “That’s different.”

Meng Ning gathered herself before asking, “Want to grab some Coke and popcorn?”

“Do other people on dates buy it?”

Meng Ning smiled. “Probably.”

Wen Zenian gave a haughty little dip of her chin. “Then let’s go.”

They lined up together.

Wen Zenian in her suit and heels, luxury bag in hand—a model too elite for off-the-rack anywhere—drew covert glances from everyone.

Yet she carried it so naturally that others seemed influenced, accepting it as perfectly normal.

Standing behind Meng Ning, whenever she spoke, her warm breath brushed the nape of Meng Ning’s neck, her voice low amid the crowd, like a whisper. “What combo do other people on dates get?”

Meng Ning’s lips curved up, but she didn’t turn. “Do you want everything just like everyone else?”

Wen Zenian stepped back a bit, and the faint, warm breath on Meng Ning’s neck vanished.

“Standard procedure,” Wen Zenian said.

Meng Ning found it a little funny—and just a touch bittersweet.

Like playing Minesweeper, sticking only to the safe paths others had cleared, terrified of stepping wrong.

When their turn came, Meng Ning ordered a medium combo: popcorn and two Cokes.

Right on time, they headed to the ticket line.

A first date couldn’t go silent—that’d be a disaster. Meng Ning took up the task of keeping conversation going. “Have you ever been to a regular movie theater like this before?”

Wen Zenian asked, “Am I an alien?”

Meng Ning nearly choked.

Wen Zenian quirked her lips. “Rarely. Busy with studies before, work after.”

What had those rare few times been like?

Dates too?

A twinge of displeasure hit Meng Ning—her possessiveness flaring too strongly.

But when she’d done that foolish thing, she’d severed all ties with the world. It was Wen Zenian who’d plunged into the Black Sea amid the roar of helicopter blades, hauling her to the surface and retying the knot between her and the world.

In a way, Meng Ning thought, that knot was named Wen Zenian.

She’d rescued plenty of drowning people herself and knew how, in panic, they clung desperately to the last lifeline. Lifeguards always used flotation boards to avoid getting too close.

But Wen Zenian didn’t mind getting close. She prompted, “Guess when I went.”

“Haha,” Meng Ning said. “Hahaha.”

“When I first got to Britain.”

Meng Ning stopped laughing.

Wen Zenian’s tone stayed light. “My aunt was a very strict woman.” To her, “strict” was putting it mildly.

“Meeting her standards was tough. First off, she couldn’t stand my accent. Those early days in Britain were rough. Sometimes I just couldn’t stand being home and escaped to the movie theater a few times.”

“Why’d you stop later?”

“No point,” Wen Zenian said flatly. “Waste of time.”

All those solitary years tucked into two offhand sentences.

Something ached in Meng Ning’s chest. She dug into the popcorn bucket, fished out a piece coated in syrup, and offered it. “Want to try one?”