Xu Lai rarely left work on time.
He devoted almost all of his energy to his job. Today was an exception—he got off before seven. As Meng Xianwen's executive assistant, his perks matched those of senior management, and the company had provided him with a car.
He rarely drove it, preferring the subway during rush hour.
Ten minutes ago, he'd emerged from the subway station, walking amid the bustling crowd with no clear destination in mind. By the time he realized where he was, he'd already stepped into this little eatery—and then he heard Ning Zhen's voice.
He froze for a moment, then looked over.
When he spotted the man beside Ning Zhen, his body reacted faster than his mind. He stepped forward and said, "Mr. Meng."
Meng Xianwen gave a faint smile and a slight nod, asking, "Here for dinner?"
"Yes."
Xu Lai's gaze landed on the soda bottle in his hand, and his expression flickered with surprise.
It was Ning Zhen who waved a hand in front of his face, smiling brightly. "What a coincidence, you're here to eat too! We just finished, otherwise we could have shared a table."
As she spoke, she nudged Meng Xianwen and pursed her lips. "The bottle opener's over there."
Meng Xianwen gave her a cursory glance.
He turned and took a few steps. The nosy owner, thoroughly baffled by this trio, quickly grabbed a bottle opener from behind the counter and handed it to him. He opened the bottle with a deft twist, the cap clattering to the floor.
"Straw!"
Ning Zhen stared at the soda bottle he offered her, utterly speechless.
Was he expecting her to drink straight from the bottle?
The owner had far better judgment—he pulled two straws from a cup beside the counter and handed them to her.
"Let's go." Meng Xianwen didn't want to linger here. He urged Ning Zhen to follow and head out. As he passed Xu Lai, he paused and spoke in the gentle tone he used with subordinates. "We'll be off. Enjoy your meal."
Xu Lai quickly responded, "Mr. Meng, take care."
Ning Zhen took a sip of her orange soda and gave him a radiant smile. "Tell you what—their scallion oil chicken is really good today. Make sure to order it."
Xu Lai wanted to smile, but remembering his boss was still present, he restrained himself to a nod and replied politely, "Alright, thank you."
He didn't rush to sit down and order. He watched them walk out of the restaurant.
He could still faintly catch their voices—
"Carry my bag for me!"
"Carry it yourself."
In the night, Ning Zhen, bold as ever, simply shoved her bag into Meng Xianwen's hands. A small fox plushie dangled from the strap, clashing absurdly with his immaculate suit.
Xu Lai's brow furrowed slightly.
Gradually, their figures vanished from sight, and their voices faded away. He finally snapped back to himself, still wearing a somewhat dazed expression, and sat down at the table that had just been cleared.
The owner handed him a menu.
Her curiosity was overwhelming. "So you three all know each other."
Xu Lai didn't take the menu. "Scallion oil chicken, stir-fried vegetables, and a bowl of rice. Thank you."
After ordering, he chose his words carefully and replied, "He's my boss."
"And her?" The owner realized she was prying too eagerly—she let out a dry laugh. "Just curious. Ha."
"A junior from my school days."
"Like I told you, he's an old classmate of mine! Are you seriously telling me you forgot again?"
On the busy street, Ning Zhen took a few sips of soda, waiting for a burp, when Meng Xianwen suddenly asked how well she knew Xu Lai. She couldn't even be bothered to roll her eyes.
What a memory.
No wonder he'd lost it!
Meng Xianwen spotted a student cycling toward them up ahead. His brow twitched, and he pulled Ning Zhen close.
She stumbled and crashed straight into his chest. Fortunately, she'd already drunk half the soda, or she'd have spilled it all over his shirt—and with his fussy, spotless nature, he would've killed her.
"You—"
She opened her mouth, her expression shifting, and quickly covered her mouth and nose. "Burp—"
Meng Xianwen looked down at her and turned his head away to laugh.
"Let's go," he said.
"The truth is, we're not all that close," Ning Zhen continued, suddenly much more patient. "We'd chat when we bumped into each other on campus. Then we barely kept in touch for years. I was stunned when I found out he was your assistant."
She trailed off as a thought struck her, stopping dead in her tracks. She looked at him with an incredulous expression. "Wait—are you worried I might use him to dig up info about your schedule?"
Meng Xianwen: "..."
He stared at her for a few seconds, let out a short laugh, and without ceremony, shoved the bag back at her.
What a wild imagination.
Was she writing a drama script now?
"Hey!"
He'd walked off after handing back the bag, and Ning Zhen shouted after him. He pretended not to hear, never slowing his pace.
She jogged to catch up, chattering irritably in his ear.
Ning Zhen lived in Building 18, a layout with two elevators and four apartments per floor.
When they'd bought the apartment, Ye Junlan and Ning Hui had limited funds, so they could only afford a middle unit. At the door, Ning Zhen reached out to flip the light switch near the shoe cabinet, stepped inside to change her shoes, then pulled out another pair of the same brown bear slippers she was wearing. "These are yours."
Meng Xianwen was silent for a moment.
Still, he stepped inside and put them on.
The two suitcases Xiao Ding had left in the living room added a strange weight to Ning Zhen's mind. The reality that he was moving in, that they'd be living side by side, day in and day out, now stared her right in the face.
She pressed her lips together, took a deep breath to steady her nerves, and tried to pump herself up.
What was she afraid of?
She was the homeowner!
He was the one with amnesia. He should be the one feeling more lost than her.
"Let me make you some tea!"
Ning Zhen kept herself busy, self-consciously aware of Meng Xianwen's gaze. She went on tiptoe and reached for a tin of tea leaves on the cabinet, one she'd casually placed there last night. "Wait—it's nighttime, tea might mess with your sleep. Maybe I shouldn't brew any now. How about some plain water?"
Meng Xianwen indeed noticed the tin. His expression flickered slightly.
It was the black tea he usually drank.
Ning Zhen set it back in its original, highly visible spot.
She smiled inwardly.
Thank goodness she was clever. Not long ago, Chang Yi had sent him some tea leaves, and out of curiosity, she'd gotten a tin from Chang Yi too. After bringing it home, she'd grabbed a handful and boiled herself a pot of tea eggs. And honestly, they tasted much better than the ones from the store.
Who knew the tea would be good for more than just eggs—it had come in useful in a much bigger way now.
Ning Zhen's spirits lifted. Padding across the floor in her slippers, she went into the kitchen, poured two cups of warm water—one for him, one for herself.
The cups were even a matching pair.
When she came back out, he wasn't in the living room. She peered around and found him standing in front of the photo wall, studying the pictures she'd stayed up all night printing.
A third were selfies of her.
A third were photos of her with her parents and friends.
A third were sweet couple photos of her and Meng Xianwen.
Late into the night while setting them up, she'd gotten frustrated—absolutely livid, actually—and grabbed a black marker to draw a few mustaches on several of his photos.
Following his gaze, she saw that he was staring exactly at those ones.
"Sometimes, when you make me angry," Ning Zhen handed him the cup, her tone light and triumphant, "I get my revenge like this."
Meng Xianwen listened without a word.
He didn't interrupt her, even as she spun what might be pure fabrication.
"Okay, all done now."
Ning Zhen took a few sips of water and set the cup down. She had made enough small talk; it was time to get to the point. Some things, whoever avoided them, lost their say in the matter. He had moved into her place, and she knew full well that he wouldn't share a bed with her while he still harbored any suspicions about her.
And she certainly didn't want that either.
But she couldn't let on that she was reluctant, or in that bastard's eyes, he'd silently jot down another mark against her.
"It's not that late, but it's not early either." She turned and walked toward his suitcase, her tone slow and leisurely, as if she were just chatting with him about everyday things. "Today was so tiring. Let's unpack early, shower, and get some sleep. Hurry up and take your clothes out and hang them—I wonder if the closet in my room is big enough…"
She counted down in her head.
Three, two…
Before she could even reach one, a force pulled her back. She turned around naturally, a look of feigned confusion on her face. "What's wrong?"
Meng Xianwen gazed at her, a smile playing on his lips. "No rush. Let's take care of business first."
Hearing this, Ning Zhen was genuinely a little puzzled.
Business?
What business?
"Changing your bandage." His gaze dropped to her slender, fair wrist. It wasn't actually hurt—Ning Zhen hadn't even noticed it herself. At most, it was just a scraped patch of skin; applying medicine was almost a stretch. But she couldn't deny that his concern for her felt good.
Maybe he could still pass as a decent man after all.
A smile spread in her eyes. "Alright, the ointment is in my bag—I'll go get it!"
Ning Zhen had tossed her bag on the shoe cabinet as soon as she walked in. She padded over quickly, pulled out a cotton swab and ointment from the bag, and bustled back over. "This, um, should be applied after a shower, right?"
Meng Xianwen didn't answer that question.
After her shower, he would already be gone.
He tore open the cotton swab, unscrewed the cap of the ointment, squeezed a bit of the clear gel with controlled pressure, took her hand, and applied it carefully. Then, as if casually, he struck up a conversation. "How did you guess the password to my safe?"
"Guess? That was easy!"
At the mention of it, Ning Zhen was quite pleased with herself. "For you, there aren't any particularly special numbers, right? Otherwise, why would you be so lazy—your suitcase and door code are all six zeros, like you never gave them a second thought."
"If I were to set a password that meant something to me, I figured it would probably be Granny Wang's birthday."
Meng Xianwen gave a low hum. "I'm just surprised you still remember."
"Of course!" She gave a light snort. "Granny Wang was so good to me—how could I ever forget? Oh, I miss her so much. If she were still—"
If Granny Wang were still around, she wouldn't be afraid of Meng Xianwen at all.
"—that would be great." Her voice dropped.
When Grandpa Meng passed away, she had just started middle school, and she hadn't been all that mature yet. Her whole family had come to pay their respects, and she, a bit afraid of the heavy, somber atmosphere, had snuck off to find her grandmother, accidentally overhearing a conversation between her and Granny Wang.
Her grandmother had said, "You have to take care of yourself, don't be too grieved, don't let yourself fall apart."
Granny Wang had smiled and said she would.
She had been puzzled.
Granny Wang hadn't seemed particularly sad or upset—she hadn't shed a single tear.
At twelve or thirteen, she hadn't understood what it meant for old spouses to be companions through the years. In the five or six years that followed, Granny Wang aged rapidly, as if, in the blink of an eye, life had come to its end, like a fleeting dream.
"Grandmother really did like you a lot."
Meng Xianwen said calmly, "Maybe in her heart, you were her little granddaughter."
Ning Zhen couldn't help but laugh. "Wouldn't that be strange?"
"Zhenzhen." He suddenly called her name, his brow soft and serene. "Remember how you once broke Grandmother's vase?"
Ning Zhen was momentarily taken aback. "I remember. Why?"
That vase wasn't an antique, but it hadn't been cheap either.
She had toppled it and shattered it while playing hide-and-seek with Meng Jiaran.
She had been so scared she'd cried loudly, but Granny Wang hadn't been angry—she'd come to soothe her.
"Grandmother never blamed you." Meng Xianwen paused for a few seconds, meeting her gaze without flinching. "And neither do I. Do you understand?"
Ning Zhen's heart pounded wildly.
He circled his hand around hers, his fingertip resting over her pulse.
As if in that moment, all her true emotions were laid bare beneath his gaze, impossible to hide.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyelashes trembling.
He smiled faintly. "Grandmother never blamed you because you were honest. A shattered vase is just a vase—a person matters more, doesn't it?"
Ning Zhen's heart raced.
But her breathing slowed.
She looked up at him, studied him, her gaze drifting.
Meng Xianwen applied the ointment to her wound slowly.
When he finished, he leaned over to toss the cotton swab into the trash bin, instantly closing the distance between them.
He had spent too much time and thought on this matter.
With that in mind—perhaps wanting to see into her heart through her eyes—he bent closer to her, stopping just as their noses were about to touch. She instinctively wanted to pull back, her right hand, freshly dabbed with ointment, braced against her side as it trembled slightly.
He watched her quietly, his eyes calm and unreadable, and smiled knowingly.
Ning Zhen curled her fingers, clutching them tighter until her knuckles went white.
After a few seconds of locked stares, she let out a soft laugh, reached out and hooked her arm around his neck, and in the brief bewilderment in his gaze, pulled herself snug against his chest, letting their heartbeats collide. Then, wet and soft, she pressed her lips to his.
