Wen Zenian leaned slightly closer to Meng Ning, her voice dropping even lower. “Do you think Du Shuwen might believe I want to keep you?”
Meng Ning: …
“She didn’t mean any disrespect. In her view, there’s no one above or below anyone else—no one’s nobler than the next. It’s all about mutual benefit and enjoying life.” Wen Zenian explained. “That’s just the kind of person she is. Understand?”
“Mm.”
Wen Zenian slid the room card back into place, setting it squarely before herself, right in front of her whiskey glass. The card gleamed with a subtle golden sheen—everything money could stack up carried the intoxicating haze of a dream.
“Do you even know what kind of person she is? She calls, and you just come running.” Wen Zenian fixed her gaze on the room card.
“I don’t think she’s a bad person. True, I don’t really know her.” Meng Ning murmured softly. “But I know you.”
Just then, the bartender called from behind the counter: “Miss, your watermelon juice.”
Wen Zenian held out her palm toward Meng Ning, and the glass of watermelon juice was placed steadily before her.
Meng Ning sighed to herself once more: Rich beyond all reason, she thought. Wen Zenian had actually summoned the watermelon juice for her.
She took a sip through the straw and heard Wen Zenian whisper in her ear: “What do you think you know about me?”
Her slender fingers drew the room card toward herself. Her middle and ring fingers pressed down lightly while her index finger tapped twice on the card’s textured surface.
Meng Ning released the straw and met Wen Zenian’s eyes.
The fresh coolness of the watermelon juice lingered in her mouth, yet her spine burned with heat.
Wen Zenian held her gaze for two seconds, then suddenly curved her lips upward.
The taut string coiled around Meng Ning’s heart seemed to slacken all at once, plucking a single ambiguous note. The abrupt release left her heart fluttering in a way that caught her utterly off guard.
Meng Ning realized now that Wen Zenian had no intention of heading upstairs to the room with her.
Yet a sudden thought struck her: If Wen Zenian had made that move today, would she have refused?
Wen Zenian sipped her whiskey, and Meng Ning dipped her head to draw on the straw. When Wen Zenian’s thin lips lifted from the glass rim, Meng Ning released hers as well.
Not deliberate—a perfect coincidence.
The bar hummed quietly around them, Wen Zenian’s voice staying hushed: “When Du Shuwen and I arrived today, I had half a suspicion it was you.”
She turned her head for a quick glance at Meng Ning. “Don’t go running off with just anyone who calls for you from now on.”
“Got it.” Meng Ning flicked her eyes toward the slight opening at Wen Zenian’s shirt collar. “I’m not some wide-eyed innocent.”
Wen Zenian quirked the corner of her mouth.
“I figured,” Wen Zenian said, “since you’re here, we might as well clear the air properly.”
“Mm. Go on.” Meng Ning stared at the thin layer of white foam atop her watermelon juice.
“That day outside the KTV, I was sitting in the car. I saw you head inside with Emilia, then turn around and come back out alone.”
Emilia was Xu Xuan’s English name.
“Mm.” Meng Ning’s hands clasped the juice glass, her fingertips brushing lightly.
“I heard what you said to her—and you’re right, I don’t think you were wrong.”
Meng Ning kept her eyes downcast on the juice. Wen Zenian pressed on: “So don’t worry about me having heard it, and what that might mean. I’m not implying anything happened between you and Emilia. What I’m saying is, I support you befriending people who make things easier. I support you moving on. And me? I’m moving on too.”
She finished, but Meng Ning stayed quiet.
Wen Zenian let out a slow breath and downed a swallow of whiskey.
As she set her glass down, Meng Ning spoke softly: “Truth is, I’ve never thought my words were wrong.”
“Mm.” Wen Zenian swirled the amber liquid in her glass twice.
“From a rational standpoint, they weren’t.” Meng Ning continued. “But that day, when I turned back, I wanted to tell you—my feelings for you aren’t like that.”
You’re the exception to reason itself. The illogic beyond all logic.
Wen Zenian’s slender fingers on the glass curled faintly.
“Sure, it’s a lie to claim being around you never hurts or feels tough. But the joy? That’s real too. I can tell them apart.”
Even when my heart was at its sickest, I could tell.
Her words came out plain and steady, but Wen Zenian lowered her thick lashes and fell silent for a long stretch.
Finally, she asked: “So why didn’t you come over and say it then?”
Meng Ning only smiled faintly.
Wen Zenian understood—she was recalling their talk about gentleness and cruelty.
Wen Zenian asked again: “Why say it now?”
Meng Ning’s lips curved. “Some things, if you don’t speak them, you might never get the chance. Better to say it anyway. Whatever happens, I want you to know how I really feel.”
Wen Zenian knew she was thinking of Shi Yang.
“Mm.” She nodded. “I get it.”
She understood—and then what?
Wen Zenian simply asked: “Ready to go?”
“Huh?” Meng Ning scrambled to her feet alongside her.
As they stepped out of the bar, Wen Zenian said: “Hold on a sec.”
She dangled the room card before Meng Ning, who knew full well it was only a tease.
Meng Ning watched Wen Zenian’s back as she headed toward the front reception desk.
That slender waist. Those long legs. She never walked with any forced sway—just elegant efficiency.
Her suit jacket draped over one arm, baring a pale, glowing wrist that called to mind the smooth, straight line of collarbone peeking from her half-open shirt moments before.
For a woman, desire was never merely desire.
It linked to the mind, to the heart. When fingertips tingled and quivered, how could the heart not echo the same vibration?
There in that unfamiliar club, a single room card had stirred old yearnings in Meng Ning. If anything trembled, it was less her fingertips than the tip of her heart.
Wen Zenian returned and called to her: “All set. Let’s go.”
Her tone was flat, offering no opening for more words.
Meng Ning could only nod. “Mm.”
Outside the bar, Wen Zenian asked: “How’d you get here?”
“Subway.”
Wen Zenian paused thoughtfully. “Too lazy to call the driver. Cab it is.” She pulled out her phone to summon a premium ride.
The car pulled up swiftly. Before climbing in, Wen Zenian turned: “Split the fare?”
Meng Ning opened her mouth, but Wen Zenian cut in: “Wire me half, then send a period. Let’s see how many of those I rack up from you.”
Fine. Mockery it was.
Wen Zenian held the door for her, then slid in after. They sat apart, an arm’s length of space between them.
Each gazed out her own window.
Yet fallen leaves wove themselves into verse. Streetlights murmured their fables. Every city played its solitary tune. Side by side, they shared a northern autumn.
When they alighted, they walked toward the hotel together—until paths diverged, one to the main building, the other to staff quarters.
Wen Zenian halted. “Meng Ning, take good care of yourself.”
She gave a faint nod and started to turn away.
Meng Ning called out: “Wait.”
Wen Zenian looked back.
Meng Ning said: “I’m not looking to start dating anyone new, either.”
Not blindly chasing ease or some shiny new life.
Wen Zenian stood there, gazing at her. Then she smiled gently. “Good night.”
Meng Ning waved once more before turning away.
The KTV gathering had worked wonders, lending real sincerity to the talks.
Du Shuwen aimed to keep the momentum: “What about a barbecue next?”
Wen Zenian was poring over reports with her and pressed her temple. “Why all the schemes?”
Du Shuwen wagged her index finger. “Data work? Maybe I lag behind you. Networking? You’re miles behind me.”
“Really?” Wen Zenian didn’t buy it. Different paths, that’s all.
“Want me to hand it over, then? You run the show.”
Wen Zenian mulled it. “Nah. It’s working your way, so stick to it.”
“You’re just hassle-averse.” Du Shuwen had her pegged. “If someone’s handling the social stuff, you’ll never lift a finger.”
She griped on: “You coming this time? Last KTV—you showed, sat a minute, downed two drinks, barely spoke, bounced. Wait, you did say something: a WeChat voice note to me. What was that, showing up as decor?”
Wen Zenian rolled her mouse over the reports.
Du Shuwen flipped her stance: “Decor’s good enough. You there, commanding the room—makes our investor group look classy! Ha ha ha ha.”
“Not sure.” Wen Zenian held firm. “Depends on my schedule.”
“I’ll pick the absolute best spot.” Du Shuwen snatched up her phone. “Skip it, and you’ll regret.”
Du Shuwen excelled at these setups.
Her barbecue joint wasn’t some roadside dive or an uptight Michelin temple—just right. The staff had warmed to her a touch. When Wen Zenian arrived late after work, the vibe was pure host-and-guests-in-harmony.
“Gwyneth.” Du Shuwen waved her over. “Here.”
Wen Zenian joined and sat.
Du Shuwen lifted a beer bottle. “Beer’s the play tonight.”
“Fine by me.” Wen Zenian took the bottle and poured herself a glass.
Du Shuwen barely touched her food but pounded the drinks. For high-pressure types like her and Wen Zenian, who could swear off booze?
She nursed her glass with shallow sips, stretching out the moment, her eyes flicking toward Meng Ning across the table.
The girl was stunning, Du Shuwen had to admit.
Wonder how it went last time with Wen Zenian. She’d dropped the room card and split—adults now, no need to pry.
Today’s plan: observe and deduce. But nope. One at the table’s edge, the other glued to her side at the summons—no eye contact the whole time.
What gives? That subtle electric hum—she hadn’t imagined it.
Cheek in hand, she sipped her beer, staring at Meng Ning till her eyes nearly crossed.
“Quit staring.” Wen Zenian spoke up suddenly.
“Huh?” Du Shuwen feigned innocence.
“Can you drop these sly little games? You even called her here to see me.”
“Come on, what do you take me for? If I sensed either of you wasn’t into it, no way.”
Wen Zenian sipped her beer but didn’t deny it.
“So, you two…” Du Shuwen blinked expectantly.
“We,” Wen Zenian set down her glass, “aren’t what you’re imagining.”
She leaned in close to Wen Zenian and whispered, “Aren’t you being a bit too aloof? Look at your face—always so impassive…”
Du Shuwen was getting more and more outlandish, so Wen Zenian cut her off. “She’s my ex-girlfriend. It’s impossible now, so don’t go bothering her anymore.”
“Huh?!” Du Shuwen was stunned.
