Chapter 79 Part 2

It was the same lighter Meng Ning had returned to her earlier. Her slender fingers seemed made for pristine things—like a porcelain cup or the pure white cigarette that now rested between them, resembling a pale crescent moon that offset the bold intensity of her face.

She tilted her swan-like neck and inhaled from the lit flame with a soft hiss. The tip glowed, sending a wisp of thin smoke drifting toward her deep, shadowed eyes.

Meng Ning sat a good distance away from her in the spacious smoking lounge, where the silence was so profound even the faint crackle of burning paper was audible. She leaned lazily against the armrest, elbow propped casually, letting the cigarette smolder between her fingers while her other hand flew across her phone keyboard in a flurry of taps.

Meng Ning listened to the mechanical clicks, half her palm braced against the soft edge of the sofa as she stared at the wooden baseboard along the opposite wall.

“How did you know they had bread slices?” Wen Zenian’s voice broke the quiet, startling her. Meng Ning’s shoulders jerked.

Wen Zenian pressed her lips together but said nothing, waiting patiently.

“Oh.” She came back to herself with a smile. “Saw it in the reviews.” She named the Orange App.

The restaurant offered bread slices on request; customers had to ask the server for them.

But while she might fool others, she couldn’t fool Wen Zenian about having gone to fetch them herself.

“You’re quite thoughtful,” Wen Zenian remarked evenly, her tone giving no clue whether she meant the discovery of the bread or the consideration shown in ordering it once she noticed Meng Ning’s chrysanthemum tea.

Meng Ning grinned wide. “It’s rare to come to a place this fancy, right? I looked ahead to see what dishes I might like—no way I’m missing out, haha.”

She was so nervous she nearly hiccuped, her old habit of tacking on “haha” at the end slipping out again.

Wen Zenian said nothing more and returned to her typing.

“Your stomach—is it hurting?” That was what Meng Ning really wanted to ask.

But Wen Zenian’s expression was so aloof, and the debate over “tenderness versus cruelty” kept twisting through Meng Ning’s mind.

Just then, her phone vibrated in her pocket.

Meng Ning pulled it out and glanced at the screen. “Hello.”

No matter how low she kept her voice, the enclosed smoking room seemed to echo it.

Zou Min’s voice came through. “Where are you?”

“I’m—” Meng Ning flicked her eyes toward Wen Zenian. “Just stepping out for some air.”

“Xu Xuan’s cat had surgery, but it’s not doing well now. She’s freaking out. I’m with her—heading to check on it. You’ve seen stuff like this before from your volunteer days. Want to come?”

“Sure.” Meng Ning agreed quickly. “Meet at the entrance? I’ll call a cab—you grab my jacket for me.”

Wen Zenian asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Xu Xuan’s cat,” Meng Ning explained. “Not recovering well after surgery. I’ve handled cases like this volunteering. Zou Min and I are going to help her check it out.”

Wen Zenian stood. “Let’s go.”

Her high heels clicked past Meng Ning. “I was leaving anyway. I drove—I’ll drop you all off.”

Zou Min and Xu Xuan rushed out of the private room to find Meng Ning waiting at the entrance.

“Called a cab yet?” Zou Min asked, then spotted Wen Zenian standing in the shadows nearby and froze.

Wen Zenian said casually, “Come on—I’ll drive you.”

Xu Xuan, who blushed easily, had red tips to her ears again. “No need, Gwyneth. That’s too much trouble.”

“It’s fine.” Wen Zenian was already heading toward her Maybach. “My car’s right outside.”

Xu Xuan and Zou Min exchanged a glance. Zou Min whispered, “Let’s go. Cabs are a nightmare right now anyway.”

The three climbed into Wen Zenian’s car, with Xu Xuan and Zou Min scrambling straight to the back seat.

Meng Ning glanced at Wen Zenian, who rested one hand on the door as she slid into the driver’s seat. She showed no reaction to Meng Ning taking shotgun.

What composure. What poise.

Meng Ning opened the passenger door and settled in, then prompted, “Seatbelt.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly, she recalled the time Wen Zenian had leaned over to buckle her in—her jawline firm and elegant, dark lashes lowered, carrying that familiar scent.

Wen Zenian always drove steadily, and the car was quiet inside.

They pulled up to the pet hospital, and Xu Xuan and Zou Min hurried out. “Gwyneth, thank you so much.”

Wen Zenian gave a slight shake of her head. “I was headed to work anyway. Wasn’t planning to linger at the hotpot place.”

Meng Ning gripped the passenger door handle, posture rushed but her gaze earnest as she looked back. “Thanks. Busy night at work?”

Wen Zenian didn’t answer. She flicked her fingertips in a dismissive wave, urging her to go without further talk.

After Meng Ning dashed off, Wen Zenian gripped the steering wheel and sat there on the roadside for two extra seconds.

As the ancients said, one falling leaf can herald autumn. Just now, a dry yellow leaf fluttered twice, as if reluctant to be drained by time, before landing on her windshield.

Wen Zenian held herself in check. She’d only glanced once at Meng Ning’s retreating back.

Meng Ning had said she didn’t want to date either.

How long would that hold true?

It was like when she’d helped Meng Ning move out of the apartment she’d bought down south. They’d driven through an ordinary intersection—Meng Ning in the passenger seat, Qi Xiao humming some silly children’s song in the back. Had she ever imagined that their parting had been seeded right there on that drive?

Just like tonight.

Meng Ning in shotgun again, Xu Xuan and Zou Min whispering in the back about the cat. So, in this unremarkable, everyday ride she hadn’t anticipated, was the start of Meng Ning’s next chapter already taking root?

Wen Zenian drove away.

Luckily, Xu Xuan’s cat pulled through.

Meng Ning had seen this before and shared the treatment plan from a previous case for reference. It wasn’t used, but the cat ended up fine.

Xu Xuan hovered nearby, unwilling to leave. Zou Min and Meng Ning sat in the corridor waiting area, where Zou Min finally had a chance to chat idly. “How’d you end up with Gwyneth?”

“Ran into her in the smoking lounge.”

“She smokes?”

Meng Ning realized suddenly that this side of Wen Zenian she knew so well was one others had never glimpsed.

Yes, Wen Zenian smoked.

And she did it beautifully—the slim white cigarette held between equally pale, elegant fingers. In those moments, Wen Zenian seemed a touch more languid than usual, her posture still upright but her lowered lashes carrying a hint of detachment.

Her lashes fluttered like butterfly wings, stirring not winds from across the Atlantic, but the vast, uncertain years ahead.

Xu Xuan finally came over, sniffling but smiling. “Okay, let’s head out.”

“You two are close now, huh,” Zou Min sighed, turning to Meng Ning. “How many colleagues have you seen cry like that? Her makeup’s a mess.”

Xu Xuan’s ears flushed again, but she insisted firmly, “Impossible—my mascara’s waterproof.”

Meng Ning couldn’t help but chuckle.

Xu Xuan had a knack for missing the point sometimes.

As the three left the pet hospital, Meng Ning reminded her, “Ice your eyes tonight, or they’ll be too puffy to look at tomorrow morning.”

Xu Xuan nodded. “Got it. Are they swollen now?”

“Hey, how can we tell with you blocking them with your hand?” Zou Min teased. “Keep that up going down the steps—you’ll trip.”

“My vision’s 4.0 uncorrected…”

Meng Ning was stepping down the last few stairs, her eyes on the subtle cat-and-dog patterns etched into the stone, when a wave of self-frustration hit her.

Why was it so easy to show concern for Xu Xuan?

With Wen Zenian, she overthought everything. She clearly wanted to ask if her stomach hurt—why had she circled it in her head and still not said it?

Zou Min and Xu Xuan, both locals, took cabs home. Meng Ning had grown thrifty by habit, scarred by her time as a newbie gamer forced to delete and restart her account.

She hopped the bus back to the hotel, phone clutched in hand, planning to call Wen Zenian once she had some privacy.

Does your stomach hurt tonight? Is work tough?

Just those simple words—she rehearsed them over and over in her mind.

Her phone buzzed suddenly.

She looked down: her team leader. She answered, and the leader asked, “Cara, you at the dorm?”

“On my way back.”

“Then swing by the pool quick. I forgot to photo my duty log and upload it—can you snap it for me?”

“Sure.”

Meng Ning hurried to the main building, taking the staff passage up. The pool was closed by then; she flicked on a single light, turning the usual bright blue water into a dark, vast sea.

She dashed to the office, photographed the log, sent it off, turned off the light, and left.

Still gripping her phone—and alone now—she figured she’d call Wen Zenian once she hit the elevator.

But as she emerged from the staff elevator, she spotted two figures near the soft chairs in the passageway.

To be precise, one standing, one slumped limply in a chair.

Du Shuwen was rubbing her wrist. “I’m exhausted—you’re so deadweight heavy… Give me a sec to rest before we go.”

Meng Ning approached.

Curled up with eyes closed in the chair was Wen Zenian, looking very much like she’d had too much to drink.

Du Shuwen turned. “Cara? Perfect timing—help me get her to the car.”

At that moment, she wasn’t fishing for gossip; she’d have been grateful for anyone.

Wen Zenian was drunk. And drunks were hard enough to wrangle—especially ones convinced they didn’t need help.

Meng Ning went to her and bent down slightly. “Let me help you, okay?”

Du Shuwen stood by with arms crossed, thinking: Whoa, that’s gentle. She’d pegged Meng Ning as one of those aloof little beauties, but this softness was making her bones melt.

Wen Zenian’s breath carried a faint whiff of alcohol, her brows lightly furrowed as she shook her head.

“But I think,” Meng Ning said, hands on her own knees, voice dropping even lower as if coaxing her, “compared to President Du helping you, it’d be better if I did.”

As she spoke, her eyes dipped to Wen Zenian’s slightly open shirt collar, revealing a glimpse of flawless skin.

She shot a glance back at Du Shuwen.

Du Shuwen thought: Hey! What’re you glaring at me for? I wasn’t peeking! Should I gouge my eyes out or what?