Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
For the first time, Ning Zhen discovered that her heart could beat this fast—almost bursting through her chest.
The moment her lips pressed against his, she instinctively closed her eyes, tension radiating through every cell in her body, even her lashes trembling uncontrollably. She had no idea how to make it seem like this wasn't her first kiss with him.
Maybe she'd blow it.
She'd definitely blow it.
Had she already blown it?
That bottle of orange soda might as well have been poured straight into her head, fizzing and bubbling away. Acting purely on instinct, she tentatively pecked at his lips, once, then again. In a daze, she thought—it's not that big a deal, is it? It was the same as she'd imagined, yet also somehow different. Something she couldn't quite name.
Their noses brushed against each other as their breaths grew warmer, heavier.
In those few seconds that felt both brief and endless, Meng Xianwen seemed not to have snapped back to reality. His Adam's apple bobbed, his body stiff, unmoving, as he let her kiss him with clumsy inexperience.
In that moment, every sensation was magnified beyond measure.
Her sweet, fresh breath. Her soft lips. All of it pressed against him without a hint of space.
Ning Zhen tilted her head up, arms hooked around his shoulders, kissing him for a while. She grew inexplicably thirsty, and tired too. The strength in her arms, wrapped around his neck, was slowly draining. Just as she was about to pull away, he caught her off guard—his palm pressed against the back of her head, long fingers threading through her soft hair, tightening slightly, veins faintly visible on the back of his hand.
"Mmph—"
Ning Zhen's eyes flew open with a whimper.
The next second, his cool, clean scent swept over her, overwhelming, leaving her no room to resist, and she closed her eyes again, flustered.
The phone Meng Xianwen had casually set on the coffee table lit up, a message sliding across the screen: [I'm here]
No one could say who had let the kiss go on.
Breathing grew more ragged, deeper.
The screen flickered, dimmed, and went dark.
...
When Ning Zhen finally managed to gasp for air, her cheeks were flushed, her mind hazy, a hint of intoxication lingering in her eyes. She met Meng Xianwen's gaze—he was staring at her without blinking. Something short-circuited in her brain, and the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them, her voice hoarse: "I want water."
Her pink water bottle was right there on the coffee table. She could have reached out and grabbed it herself, but she didn't seem to notice.
Meng Xianwen finally tore his gaze away from her, tilted his head, and stretched out his arm to pick up her cup.
"The water's gotten a bit cold," she said deliberately, refusing to take it, mumbling.
"..." He didn't, as usual, mock her. Instead, he stood up, and Ning Zhen immediately tilted her head to look at him. He stood tall before her, his shadow engulfing her completely.
"Kitchen?" he asked.
"Mm-hmm!"
Meng Xianwen gave her a long, deep look, then walked toward the kitchen, cup in hand. The moment he left, the soft light returned to Ning Zhen's side. She snuck a glance after him until his figure was completely out of sight, then raised her hand and slapped her chest in frustration.
She wanted to tiptoe after him, to spy on his reaction.
But the thought had barely formed before she pushed it down.
Reaction?
Right! Her own reaction was the more important thing here, wasn't it? Ning Zhen tried to do two things at once—her ears straining toward the kitchen, while her eyes stared at her own reflection on her phone screen. She lifted a hand to touch her slightly numb lips, her thoughts drifting far away like aimless dandelion seeds, unsure where they would land.
In the kitchen.
Meng Xianwen set the cup down absently on the counter. His eyes, heavy and dark, fixed on the digital display of the water dispenser.
He took a long moment to steady himself. Then he poured out the cold water, fumbled his way through the unfamiliar controls, and filled the cup halfway with hot water.
He didn't walk out right away. Instead, he braced himself on the counter, trying to quell the strange, restless, irritable feeling simmering inside him. His expression grim, he reached up with one hand to undo the top button of his shirt. It did little to help. The whole room was steeped in her—her traces, her scent.
It gave him the unsettling sense that everything in his life was beginning to slip out of his control.
"Done yet?"
Ning Zhen's impatient voice drifted over.
This was the first time in his twenty-nine years of living that Meng Xianwen had nearly lost the will to tell someone to shut up.
He was already agitated, and she kept rushing him, chattering on and on, recklessly testing his limits.
Ning Zhen's mind was in chaos too. She tossed her phone aside in frustration, and when Meng Xianwen still hadn't come out of the kitchen, she got up, about to go see what was taking him so long. She was hesitating when he emerged, composed and unhurried. Compared to her flustered state, he looked as if nothing had happened at all, perfectly calm and collected.
That immediately set her off.
What kind of person was he?
Every time, he'd push at her with his sneaky, calculated little tests—and then act like he was completely unfazed.
Ning Zhen took the cup from his hands and immediately cried out, "Ugh, it's scalding hot. Can't drink this."
Meng Xianwen stared at her, expression flat.
Just now she complained it was too cold, and now it was too hot. He was about to open his mouth when, a split second before he could speak, Ning Zhen folded instantly: "Just blow on it for me, and I can drink it when it's not so hot."
He didn't agree, didn't refuse. He looked at her a couple of times, took the cup back, blew on it half-heartedly, then said in a low, steady voice, "Drink."
"Okay."
But what she did next made his body go rigid again.
This time, Ning Zhen didn't take the cup. She lowered her head, pressed her lips to the rim, and wordlessly asked him to feed her the water.
She didn't bother watching his reaction. After a few sips, once her throat no longer felt parched, she picked up the thread of their earlier conversation, the corners of her mouth curving upward: "I bet you forgot something. I broke Granny Wang's vase, but later I got her a new one—I made it myself. She absolutely loved it."
"What?" He frowned.
"Just as I thought, you forgot."
Ning Zhen said, "You're so boring. You only remember the first half of the story. After I got home, I felt terrible for Granny Wang, so I begged my mom to take me to a pottery studio. I practiced for ages—and I was amazing at it, if I do say so myself. I made a tiny little vase, and Granny Wang adored it. She said it was the cutest vase she'd ever seen. If you don't believe me, go check the old house the next time you're there—it's still sitting in Granny Wang and Grandpa Meng's room."
She leaned in slightly, a smile in her eyes as she looked into his calm gaze: "Don't underestimate me. I'm not the kind of person who makes a mistake and just waits around for someone to forgive me."
And after that, she never broke another thing in her whole life.
"Is that so?"
Meng Xianwen was silent for a beat, then suddenly smiled. "Seems like I really did underestimate you all this time."
"Also—"
A flash of genuine shyness appeared in Ning Zhen's eyes, and she hedged, hesitant as she asked him: "Just now... were you about to kiss me?"
She didn't wait for his answer, quickly defending her own actions, "I thought you wanted to."
Meng Xianwen couldn't answer that. He didn't understand it either. She'd been the one to disrupt the course of events on her own, and yet she had the audacity to bring it up so openly—which made him burn with a blaze of unwanted anger.
The air went suddenly silent.
The ringing of a phone on the coffee table cut through the growing quiet.
Ning Zhen and Meng Xianwen looked at the screen at the same time. She was closer, and lowering her head, she read it clearly: "It's Lu Yuan calling."
Meng Xianwen froze.
He raised his hand to press at his forehead, but Ning Zhen had already beat him to it, handing him his phone. She was a little curious. "Is he calling because the team finally came up with a treatment plan?"
"Maybe."
He murmured in reply, took the phone, and as he was about to answer, glanced at her, then turned and walked toward the dining room. "Hello, it's me."
Ning Zhen craned her neck, pricking up her ears to eavesdrop.
Who did he think he was!
Did he even know whose territory this was? Taking a call on her turf meant it should be on speakerphone!
It was driving her crazy—she was dying to know what Lu Yuan's treatment plan was!
"Alright, I'll be right down."
Vaguely, she caught that sentence, and her heart gave a start. She hurried after him and asked, "Is Lu Yuan here? What's he doing here?"
Meng Xianwen lowered his arm.
All her thoughts were consumed by that phone call, so she didn't notice how tightly he was gripping the phone.
"He was passing by and wanted to drop off some medicine for me." His voice was low. "I'll go down to get it. I'll be back later."
Ning Zhen grew anxious and grabbed his sleeve. "Don't you want me to come down with you?"
"No need."
He looked down at the hand clutching his sleeve; a faint medicinal scent still lingered around his wrist. "I have some serious matters to discuss with him."
Ning Zhen saw his calm tone but his firm stance, and reluctantly let go. "Fine, then."
Though she'd agreed, she still followed him step by step to the entryway, watching him change shoes. After a moment's thought, she asked again, "Do you want me to pack your luggage?"
"No."
His hand rested on the doorknob, not looking back. "Just leave the suitcase where it is. I'll sleep in the guest room."
"But—"
"Is that okay?" He paused for a few seconds. "Zhenzhen."
Ning Zhen was taken aback by the forcefulness in his words, the pressure behind them. He seemed to have lost patience with their playful back-and-forth. Was it really that serious...
"Fine!"
He opened the door, and his figure disappeared down the corridor. She stood there listening for a while—there was the faint hum of the sensor light in the elevator lobby, and the soft sound of the night breeze. Her breathing gradually steadied, but she couldn't help raising a hand to touch her lips.
Ding.
The sound startled her so much that she quickly dropped her hand, as if she'd been caught doing something wrong.
Meng Xianwen stepped into the elevator car and pressed for the first floor. Only after the doors slid shut did the anger churning in his chest begin to calm, soothed by the lingering fruity scent on his lips.
From the twenty-first floor down to the first, the elevator made no stops in between.
He unlocked his phone and finally had a chance to check his messages.
To his surprise, he found that Lu Yuan had sent him several messages—which was likely why, after getting no reply, he'd resorted to calling—
【I've arrived】
【?】
【Where are you?】
Meanwhile.
Lu Yuan stepped out of his car and checked his watch. The agreed time had already passed, which struck him as highly unusual.
Among their group of friends, Meng Xianwen was probably the most punctual.
If Meng Xianwen said nine o'clock, then nine o'clock he'd be down.
Had something held him up?
The phone call hadn't made things very clear. Under normal circumstances, Lu Yuan wouldn't be so curious about such a minor thing, but the situation was different now—Meng Xianwen had lost his memory, and the one person he'd forgotten was his own girlfriend, Ning Zhen... As a friend, Lu Yuan couldn't help but be on edge at the slightest sign of anything unusual.
Just as he was about to make his second call of the night, Meng Xianwen's figure appeared in view.
As the distance closed in, Lu Yuan squinted in the dim light and noticed his expression was unreadable as he strode over. Had they quarreled?
"Been waiting long?"
Lu Yuan only knew which residential complex Ning Zhen lived in, not the specific building, so he'd parked at the main gate.
Meng Xianwen came over, opened the passenger door, got in, and asked that.
"Not too long." Lu Yuan studied his expression carefully. "Did you and Zhenzhen have a fight?"
Meng Xianwen frowned slightly, didn't answer, and lowered the car window by way of extra explanation: "Your car feels a bit stuffy."
"Stuffy? Then shall we head off now?"
Lu Yuan reached for the central control screen, tapped the navigation, and was about to set a course for home when his friend's voice came from the passenger seat—low, tinged with a hint of frustration: "We had a fight."
"Huh, what?"
"So I came down to tell you—I can't leave today."
