Chapter 77 Part 1

“President Wen!” Du Shuwen called out, immediately launching into her complaint. “She said you’re… prettier than me…”

“Hey!” Meng Ning barely remembered her social graces anymore. She scrambled to stop Du Shuwen.

But they were all adults in the workplace, weren’t they? She couldn’t very well clap a hand over Du Shuwen’s mouth. So Du Shuwen’s words came out in full: “She said you’re prettier than me!”

Meng Ning thought: I’m done for.

How mortifying!

Wen Zenian paused with her hand on the door. Two seconds later, her gaze flicked toward Meng Ning before moving away to settle on Du Shuwen.

Du Shuwen propped her chin on her hand, beaming at her.

Wen Zenian didn’t walk over. Instead, she sat on the edge of the sofa nearest the door and said something to Du Shuwen.

“What? Speak up, President Wen—I can’t hear you.”

Wen Zenian slid to unlock the phone in her hand, tapped it, then held it to the microphone and spoke. Du Shuwen’s phone buzzed. She opened it, and Meng Ning realized they were using WeChat now that they were back in the country. Wen Zenian’s voice emerged from the speaker: “She merely stated an objective fact. Are you really that surprised?”

That single sentence framed Meng Ning’s behavior in a positive light.

Meng Ning’s pounding heart eased a little: Yeah, that’s right. She was just being honest, voicing the objective truth as she saw it.

But on the other hand, it beat even faster. Wen Zenian’s voice was so distinctive—that rich timbre would cut through even the hottest pop songs, laced with a subtle softness, her questioning tone lilting at the end.

Meng Ning felt a twinge of reluctance at the thought of Wen Zenian using that voice in WeChat messages to speak to others.

Then again, didn’t she count as one of “the others” now? After all, Wen Zenian had been so aloof and distant with her.

Meng Ning tugged her lips into a self-mocking smile. Wen Zenian, focused on the song selection screen, didn’t notice, but Du Shuwen caught it. “What’s so funny? Got someone in your corner now, huh?”

“No, no, I wouldn’t dare.” Meng Ning laughed and raised her beer to Du Shuwen. “Spare me, okay?”

Du Shuwen was drinking vodka. She lifted her glass for a light clink.

As she sipped, her eyes peered over the rim, sizing Meng Ning up.

Du Shuwen had to admit, the girl had real charm. She wasn’t cold—quite affable, even willing to joke around. But she wasn’t overly bubbly either; Du Shuwen keenly sensed a certain detachment from the world in her.

Meng Ning set her glass down and saw Du Shuwen glance toward where Wen Zenian sat, clicking her tongue.

Meng Ning peeked over. Wen Zenian was still sitting there, staring at her phone.

Meng Ning wanted to say: The lights in this room are too dim. Staring at a screen like that isn’t good for your eyes.

But she didn’t feel like she could point it out right now.

Du Shuwen went over and sat beside Wen Zenian, giving Zou Min her original seat back. Zou Min wasn’t the rowdy type. She wasn’t singing either—just absently shelling pistachios, her head tilted slightly as she chatted with Meng Ning.

A moment later, Xu Xuan slipped out of the room, head down.

Zou Min nudged Meng Ning gently. “Why don’t you go check on her? Make sure everything’s okay.”

Xu Xuan had been off all night. She’d spotted Meng Ning but hadn’t called out “Cara” from afar like usual. Instead, she’d sat there quietly, nursing quite a few drinks.

Zou Min and Meng Ning both knew why. Xu Xuan had a Scottish Fold cat at home, now eleven years old. Over a decade ago, people didn’t know much about the breed’s health risks, and Xu Xuan—still young then—had bought one because it looked cute.

Now age was catching up, narrowing its airways. Zou Min had heard Meng Ning volunteered at a stray cat shelter and asked her for advice. The cat was scheduled for a tracheal dilation surgery, with uncertain results, and Xu Xuan was deeply worried.

Normally, Meng Ning avoided getting too close to Xu Xuan, but in a situation like this, she couldn’t just ignore her.

She set down her glass and headed out.

She checked the restroom and smoking area—no sign of Xu Xuan. Xu Xuan didn’t smoke anyway.

Meng Ning stepped outside the karaoke lounge. The autumn wind blew chill and desolate, making her pull her jacket tighter. Xu Xuan sat alone on the roadside railing, pale yellow streetlight spilling over her shoulders like a heavy weight, causing her to hunch inward.

Meng Ning walked over.

Xu Xuan looked up and managed a weak smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Meng Ning stood quietly in front of her, but it was Xu Xuan who spoke first. “Shouldn’t you be comforting me? Telling me everything will be fine?”

Meng Ning paused before replying softly, “Who can make a promise like that?”

The person she’d once fought desperately to keep—throwing aside all pride and dignity—had still slipped away.

Xu Xuan’s head drooped again. “Then what? Should I just spend as much time as possible with it? So that if the worst happens, I won’t have any regrets?”

Meng Ning said, “No matter what, there will always be regrets.”

She’d stayed by Shi Yang’s side every minute of every day. In Shi Yang’s final moments, she’d bought her favorite beef noodle soup from that one place. During Shi Yang’s last Spring Festival, she’d begged the nurses for ages to let her paste the window flowers Shi Yang loved all over the hospital window.

Did that mean no regrets? Hardly.

The human heart was greedy. Time always felt too short. After the beef noodles, there were still dumplings and wontons to savor; after the New Year, there was spring with its blooming cherry blossoms, summer with dragonflies hovering over lotus leaves.

So many things left undone.

Xu Xuan sniffled, then let out a wry laugh. “Is this how you comfort people?”

Meng Ning’s lips curved faintly in response.

“What do I do?” Xu Xuan swung her feet, utterly lost. “What do I do?”

Meng Ning considered it seriously. “Learn to accept it.”

The five words hung heavy under the streetlight, hitting the ground like an echo.

In that moment of reverie, Meng Ning felt a strange sensation: Were those words for Xu Xuan… or for herself?

Xu Xuan stared blankly, as if some part of it sank in.

Not because her own life experience let her grasp the full meaning—not yet—but because Meng Ning said them with such gravity and sincerity.

“Cara.” Xu Xuan swung her feet again. “Can I have a hug?”

It wasn’t about playing for sympathy; in the thin chill of autumn night, a simple touch offered the most direct warmth.

Meng Ning shook her head and negotiated softly. “How about I just stand here with you for a bit?”

Xu Xuan blinked, caught off guard by the gentle yet firm refusal. Knowing she couldn’t push, she forced a smile to ease the awkwardness. “That’s pretty cruel.”

Her joking remark sent Meng Ning’s thoughts drifting far.

Wen Zenian had once called a cup of monk fruit tea cruel. Had called her impulsive rush to seek her out cruel.

Perhaps any gesture that sparked ambiguous hopes was cruel when you couldn’t offer more.

Meng Ning played along lightly. “Better to be a little cruel.”

Sometimes, firm cruelty was the truest kindness.

Xu Xuan sat quietly for a while, hesitating before finally asking Meng Ning, “Have you ever lost a family member?”

Meng Ning’s insights cut too deep.

Meng Ning shook her head. “Can we not talk about that?”

Xu Xuan flushed with embarrassment. “Right, right. We’re not that close. Sorry, I overstepped.”

“No.” Meng Ning clarified, “It’s just… some things weigh heavy. Once you know, you can’t pretend you don’t. It’d make things harder between us than they are now.”

Xu Xuan half-understood. “Oh.”

The soft click of high heels approached from behind.

Xu Xuan, facing the karaoke lounge from her perch on the railing, started to stand.

“No need.”

Meng Ning had her back to the lounge. Those hushed words slipped into her ears first.

She didn’t turn around, but her gut reaction was: Wen Zenian had heard.

She’d heard Meng Ning tell Xu Xuan that some truths made future interactions harder.

Xu Xuan waved from her seat. “Gwyneth.”

Wen Zenian brushed past Meng Ning, carrying a familiar scent. “I have work to do, so I’ll head out first. Don’t let me interrupt—you two keep talking.”

“Bye, Gwyneth.”

“Bye.”

Wen Zenian headed toward the parking lot.

Meng Ning watched from afar as she opened the door of the Maybach and slid inside but didn’t start the engine.

Had Wen Zenian drunk in the room earlier? Was she waiting for a designated driver or her assistant?

Xu Xuan said to Meng Ning, “Alright, let’s head back in.”

Meng Ning snapped back and gave her a faint smile. “Did chatting with me for a bit really help your mood?”

She could be easygoing about other things, even crack glib jokes.

But when it came to life and death, she refused to lie.

Xu Xuan thought for a moment. “Not entirely. But sometimes, a harsh truth lands better than fluffy reassurances. Because deep down, people know those comforting words are just empty.”

“It’s getting cold.” Xu Xuan shrank her neck. “Let’s go.”

Meng Ning walked her to the karaoke lounge door and stopped. “You go ahead.”

“Huh?”

“I need to make a call.”

“Oh, okay.”

Xu Xuan went in alone. Meng Ning first wandered back to the railing where they’d talked. From there, she could see Wen Zenian’s Maybach still hadn’t moved.

A urgent longing gripped her—she wanted to explain everything that had happened tonight.

It wasn’t that she feared a misunderstanding from being seen comforting Xu Xuan so closely. She didn’t think Wen Zenian would misread it.

No, she worried Wen Zenian had overheard those words to Xu Xuan and might feel hurt.

After all, Wen Zenian was woven into her past—those painful entanglements pulsing through the veins of their bond, impossible to excise.

Meng Ning couldn’t pretend their interactions were easy. But she wanted to say: At least during the time we were together, I truly loved being with you.

It had hurt.

But that pain mingled with all the warmth, joy, companionship, possessiveness, and attachment—vivid and alive.

Alive enough to cherish.

She didn’t want Wen Zenian thinking those words were a verdict on their shared history.

Then a dry leaf whirled down in the night breeze, tapping lightly on her shoulder with a soft “pat.”

That tiny interruption halted her steps.

She recalled her earlier musings on gentleness and cruelty.

Wen Zenian clearly wanted to move on. Going to her now with these words—wouldn’t that be the cruel one?

Better head back inside.

Meng Ning thought as much, but her feet stayed rooted. She stood quietly by the railing, gazing toward the parking lot.

Wen Zenian felt a flicker of irritation.

She hadn’t drunk much and was fully sober. Sitting in the car, she peered through the windshield and saw Meng Ning and Xu Xuan leave together. A short while later, Meng Ning circled back alone.

Her steps hurried to the railing—then abruptly stopped.