Meng Xianwen's Moments feed was boring.
Apart from reposts, it was all reposts. He was quite career-driven, and every repost was industry-related news.
Back in the days before he lost his memory, Ning Zhen wouldn't have brought it up at all—because once she did, he would use the gentlest tone to mercilessly mock her, exposing her real motive behind all her lovey-dovey posts.
She wouldn't give him that chance.
Now, things were different. She'd pester him until he posted something about her on his feed. Otherwise, if they one day went their separate ways, her social media would be full of traces of him, while his would have nothing of her. If a "simp" label got slapped on her, who would she complain to?
Even Meng Xianwen, for all his composure, froze for a split second at her nonsensical request.
He frowned. "Post on Moments?"
"Yes, exactly." Ning Zhen said it with complete confidence.
Meng Xianwen lowered his eyes to think, then relaxed his brow. He unlocked his phone and casually opened his Moments.
Simple. Clean.
He looked up at Ning Zhen, who had leaned in close. He'd lost interest in probing her or asking why he'd never posted about her before.
He didn't know where she'd learned it, but no matter how tricky the question, she'd always deflect it with graceful ease.
Not a single honest word came out of that mouth.
"As long as it's related to you?" he asked.
Ning Zhen nodded in satisfaction, offering a subtle complaint at the same time. "Don't you think you owe me? Before, it was a little—because you were always too busy with work and didn't have much time for me. Now it's even more. I'm hoping that with your amnesia this time, we can both change for each other. I'll be more understanding, and you'll treat me better. Deal?"
Meng Xianwen leaned back, calm and composed, listening.
After a long pause, he nodded once. "Fine."
With that, he tapped his screen and unlocked his phone.
Ning Zhen perked up instantly, nearly pressing her face against his screen. She was dying to see what he'd post. On this point, she was confident—he liked to put on a good show and was skilled at it. He'd never deliberately embarrass her. Even a younger version of him wouldn't do something like that.
She was staring intensely when he suddenly twisted his wrist, turning the back of his phone toward her instead of the screen.
He didn't let her peek. "I've sent it. You can look at it yourself after."
"…Oh!"
Ning Zhen pouted and sat up straight.
She opened her own phone and waited to refresh his feed.
She forced herself to wait patiently for a while, and was just about to urge him along when it finally refreshed!
She squinted at the screen. The moment she saw what he'd posted, the smile on her lips froze. Who told him to post THAT?!
Meng Xianwen's post: "A journey where I'm not needed should've ended long ago ✈️"
Ning Zhen's heart jolted. She whipped her head toward him. "What did you post?"
He'd already put his phone away and gave a faint smile—as if mocking her for all the drama she'd put on that day, and also openly telling her he could see through her little games.
"I posted the same thing you posted," he replied.
Ning Zhen was seething.
He was saying that his post was just like hers—visible only to her.
The back seat of the car fell into an eerie silence.
Ning Zhen clutched her phone. Then, as if remembering something, she laughed again. She lowered her head and commented under his post, deliberately double-meaning: "I need you, so I never left 🚕"
After sending it, she quickly recorded her screen and took screenshots to keep the evidence.
One step ahead of the game—she'd already deleted her own original post, so now the creator of this cringe-worthy, toe-curling post was him.
Meng Xianwen watched her focus intently on her phone.
After a moment, he opened WeChat Moments and tapped on the brand-new comment—the only one there.
He read it, then let out a quiet, helpless laugh.
...
Ning Zhen and Meng Xianwen didn't head back to the family estate. Their destination was a restaurant near Hengxing Group headquarters.
Today was Meng Jiaran's first day at work. As the older brother, Meng Xianwen naturally wanted to know how his younger brother was feeling. And Ning Zhen was just as eager to see Meng Jiaran look half-dead. She readily agreed, and they arranged to meet in a private room at one in the afternoon.
Meanwhile, Meng Jiaran received the location message Ning Zhen had sent. Figuring his brother and her were almost there, he stretched at his desk, took a couple sips of the coffee a coworker had treated him to that morning, grabbed his phone and keys, and headed to the elevator lobby.
Ding.
The elevator doors opened, and Meng Jiaran came face-to-face with a few employees inside.
Xu Lai, the most senior among them, stepped out first with a smile. "Young Mr. Meng, have you had lunch yet?"
The others echoed the greeting, calling him "Young Mr. Meng."
Meng Jiaran didn't hold any official position, but everyone in the group knew who he was—the CEO's younger brother—so "Young Mr. Meng" fit perfectly.
"I'm just about to go eat," Meng Jiaran replied, flashing a smile. "What about you all? Eaten yet?"
Xu Lai nodded. "Just came up from the cafeteria."
"Nice. I'll try the chef's cooking there one of these days." Meng Jiaran exchanged a few pleasantries, then walked past them into the elevator and pressed the B3 button. That floor wasn't open to the public—it had tighter security and parked the cars of top executives.
The doors slid shut, and the elevator descended smoothly.
Once certain they were alone, a secretary muttered quietly, "Didn't they say Young Mr. Meng didn't want to inherit the family business? When he came in this morning, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me."
Meng Jiaran's carefree, play-first attitude was well known. Every year, he'd barely show up to the Hengxing annual party, and even when he did, he'd leave after making an appearance—as cool and breezy as ever.
Another assistant was equally puzzled. "It's mainly how sudden it was. We hadn't heard a single rumor before. Hey, Assistant Xu, did Mr. Meng ever mention it to you?"
"I'm not too sure." Xu Lai tightened his grip on the fruit and vegetable juice bottle, keeping a composed expression. "Let's just do our own jobs well—do more, say less."
The others snapped back to reality and nodded in unison before silently dispersing to their desks.
...
At the restaurant entrance, Meng Jiaran handed his car keys to the valet attendant. He practically jogged into Meng Xianwen's private dining room, breathless, and immediately asked in a tense voice, "Brother, what did Brother Yuan say? Can this aftereffect be cured?"
Ning Zhen was just as eager to know the answer, dying of curiosity, but she hadn't dared to ask.
Now, she turned her head and stared straight at Meng Xianwen too.
He, however, was in no hurry, calmly wiping his hands with a hot towel. Seeing two pairs of eyes fixed on him, he gave a watertight answer: "Whether it can be cured, whether it will be cured, or when it'll be cured—everything follows the doctor's orders."
Ning Zhen was speechless.
Of course. The big boss's words were always so profound—it was like saying nothing at all.
Meng Jiaran's comprehension level, clearly, was far below hers. He let out a long, relieved breath and grinned from the heart. "That's good then, that's great!"
Ning Zhen: "??"
What exactly did this guy hear?
His brilliant brother had obviously said nothing but empty words!
Meng Xianwen didn't like people obsessing over his injury and memory loss. He subtly shifted the topic. "So, how was your first day? How's it feeling?"
"Absolutely fantastic!"
In truth, Meng Jiaran felt terrible.
No one likes going to work, at least he didn't. He was used to his freedom, and frankly, there was no way around it—he'd been drowsy all morning. He forced some energy into his voice and said, "Everyone at the office is great. There are three coffees on my desk, all bought by them. Ha, that's just my charisma for you."
Ning Zhen didn't hear the answer she'd wanted, and on top of that, the post Meng Xianwen had put on his Moments had made her angry. She was already in a bad mood today, so she called him out without hesitation. "Ha, what charisma? Don't flatter yourself. That's just because your brother's the boss, okay?"
Meng Jiaran let out a "Hey!" and rolled up his sleeves, looking ready to argue with her to the bitter end. "Fine, then let's say my brother has charisma, alright?"
Ning Zhen laughed coldly inwardly.
Your brother? He's a Meng too, because his dad is Chairman Meng, and his grandpa is Old Chairman Meng. He's got charm up his shady backside!
But she could only keep that thought to herself.
"That's more like it," she said, still sounding a bit grudging.
Meng Jiaran rubbed his arms like he'd just gotten the chills, let out a scoffing laugh, and deliberately mimicked her in a teasing, exaggerated tone: "That's~ more~ like~ it~"
"You're insane! Stop copying me!"
"Stop~ copying~ me~"
"You're so annoying!"
Ning Zhen got so mad she lifted her foot to stomp on him.
The two of them then played this childish game at the table—you try to stomp but can't reach, I try to stomp and I'm going to crush you.
Meng Xianwen set down the hot towel without a change in expression, tuning out the noise as if it had nothing to do with him, shutting off his ears entirely.
Then, suddenly, someone kicked him. Not hard, not light.
His face stayed still, calm and composed. He tilted his head slightly to look under the table. A pair of black-and-white shoes kicked him once and, not satisfied, moved to do it again. The pearl chain strap stood out, pressed taut against her foot as she put force behind it.
He could have easily dodged that kick if he'd wanted to.
Ning Zhen did it on purpose.
At first, she only wanted to get Meng Jiaran to shut up and stop mimicking her. But when her gaze drifted sideways and caught those impeccably pressed, perfectly creased trousers, her eyes lit up with a mischievous idea—guilt by association.
She kicked him in the chaos, barely holding back her laughter.
Ning Zhen wanted to be bold, but she didn't dare go too far. Just as she'd gotten her satisfaction and was about to stop while she was ahead, her expression shifted slightly and she nearly let out a gasp she couldn't control. Her phone slipped from her hand and clattered onto the table.
Her brows twitched.
Because Meng Xianwen had grabbed her ankle.
He wasn't playing by the rules at all. She met his gaze in a panic. Compared to the delicate skin of her ankle, his palm was a bit rough, and she could clearly feel the warmth of his hand. Startled, she instinctively tried to pull back.
Meng Xianwen glanced at her calmly—just a few seconds, so brief that even Meng Jiaran didn't notice the undercurrent beneath the table—then he let go, releasing his hold on her, a silent lesson.
Then he rose smoothly, his tone flat, as naturally as if he were commenting on the weather. "Stop fooling around. I'm going to wash my hands."
