The moment the suitcase opened, a flicker of surprise passed through Meng Xianwen’s deep, brooding eyes. He hadn’t actually expected her to know his suitcase password—in fact, he usually never let anyone pack for him.
After a brief moment of astonishment, he quickly regained his composure and smiled lightly. "You’ve worked hard," he said.
Ning Zhen had tiny beads of sweat on the tip of her nose, and she was trying hard to control her breathing. She guessed she had barely passed this test.
Letting out a sigh of relief, she quickly found his shaving kit in the neatly packed suitcase and handed it to him. "Want me to help you shave? I wasn’t very good at it before, but now my skills are passable."
"No need."
Meng Xianwen took it, glancing casually at the shaving cream with a faint, barely noticeable smile. "I’ll wash up first. You go ahead with what you’re doing."
"Then be careful, okay."
Don’t fall or anything.
Ning Zhen softly reminded him, her concerned gaze following him all the way to the bathroom. Only after he went in and closed the door did she slump onto the sofa in relief, as if she had just escaped a disaster. She raised a hand and patted her chest. That was close, way too close!
She had almost slipped up in front of Meng Xianwen...
Still, she had been really quick on her feet. Ning Zhen never attributed her success to luck, but she always blamed a screw-up on bad luck—like not checking the almanac before going out.
She, of course, had no idea what his suitcase password was, nor had she ever packed for him.
Earlier, she had just shut her eyes, steeled her heart, and gambled. And she had won. Amid the chaos in her mind, a trivial little memory suddenly surfaced. Two years ago, Meng Jiaran had rushed back from abroad and gathered his group of friends—including her—to celebrate New Year’s Eve.
That night, there was a fireworks show in a certain district, and the traffic was clogged to a standstill.
On a whim, Meng Jiaran remembered that his big brother had a penthouse near a landmark building—perfect for the best view. Amid all the noise, he called Meng Xianwen, who was away on a business trip, and got permission, then asked, "Brother, I haven’t been to your place in ages. Is the password still six zeroes?"
At the time, she had been sitting right next to him and overheard, amused by how simple the password was. She had even joked to herself that if she ever went broke, she’d just sneak into all of Meng Xianwen’s places and rob him blind.
Still, it had been really risky.
Ning Zhen’s heart was still pounding, not yet calm. She hadn’t been completely sure. Someone like Meng Xianwen, whose every little thing was arranged by others, would he even bother setting the door password himself? He just used facial recognition to get in.
But what if?
While fiddling with the password, she had already planned an escape route. If her excuses didn’t work, she would just give up and confess outright. After all, she had already made a fool of herself in front of him once. A second time wouldn’t matter.
Guess fate rewards the good.
Ning Zhen collapsed onto the sofa, exhausted. She pulled out her phone and sent Meng Jiaran a message: [Thank you for making the world a more beautiful place.jpg]
A few minutes later, Meng Jiaran replied with a question mark.
She didn’t feel like responding.
Her thanks had been delivered; if he didn’t get it, that was his problem.
Ning Zhen got up, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and chugged half of it. She returned to the sofa and, to distract herself, scrolled through the photos she had taken today. Meng Xianwen had probably hated having his head wrapped in gauze, so when the nurse removed it before he left in the afternoon, the bruising and swelling on his forehead looked noticeable but not too serious.
In the group photo, she lightly edited it by adding stickers to everyone’s faces.
With deliberate nonchalance, she used a crying emoji to cover up the injury on Meng Xianwen’s forehead, which actually looked kind of cute.
She laughed out loud. She posted nine photos, six of which were selfies, with the caption:
[Family together, nice and neat! Happy! Everything’s fine! [Dancing][Cheers][Kiss]]
Within five minutes of posting, she had over twenty comments.
—Glad you’re okay!
—Battle-worn Mr. Meng, looking handsome.jpg
—Five people make one mahjong set with one leftover? Hahahahaha
Meng Jiaran was among them, chiming in with a reply to that last comment: [I’m at the bottom of the food chain. How about I just serve tea and play gofer?]
The world has no secrets. The moment Meng Xianwen was taken to the hospital the day before, word had spread to Nancheng. Many were watching and probing, and some were even weaving conspiracies. Everyone knew that in two months, Hengxing would make a major move. For Meng Xianwen to have a car accident and end up hospitalized at such a critical moment... how suspicious could it get?
Was he dead?
Crippled?
What about the damn stocks?!
Everyone had waited anxiously all day, only to see Ning Zhen’s post and feel relieved, while rolling their eyes at the same time. Is that it? Fine, move along!
Ning Zhen scrolled through the comments. Not a single person complimented her. Bored, she switched to her chat interface and was surprised to see a private message from Meng Xianwen’s special assistant: [Is Mr. Meng okay?]
Her brows furrowed slightly.
Just then, the bathroom door opened. She looked up at the sound, and Meng Xianwen walked out. He had changed into a dark robe and, tying the sash, met her gaze as he came over. "What’s wrong?"
Drops of water slid down the bridge of his straight nose. She pursed her lips and reminded him, "Aren’t you going to blow-dry your hair?"
Meng Xianwen didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes landed on her phone screen, which was still lit up.
The note in the chat was also in plain sight.
He asked, "Xu Lai?"
Ning Zhen snapped back. "Oh, right. He’s asking about you."
Before Ning Zhen and Meng Xianwen had their pretend relationship, she had already known Xu Lai, and they weren’t exactly strangers.
Xu Lai was from the same college as her, but in a different department. He was a few years older. When she first enrolled, he had already been admitted to graduate school. They met through a secondhand transaction on campus—after her college entrance exams, she had received plenty of gifts from elders, including two tablets.
Not wanting them to go to waste, she decided to sell them. Xu Lai reached out first.
Unlike others, he didn’t haggle. He bought it outright. The app showed they were close to each other, so they agreed to meet in the cafeteria for the exchange.
Ning Zhen didn’t like people who haggled. Xu Lai was quiet and straightforward.
They naturally added each other on WeChat. Once, when she accidentally bought two extra tablet covers, she gave him one. He never insisted on paying her back, but sometimes when they ran into each other on campus, he would buy her a milk tea or coffee.
Over time, they became friends.
She was shocked when she found out he had landed an offer at Hengxing, but happy for him after the initial surprise.
For the next two years, he was busy and so was she. They rarely chatted or met. When they reunited, she had become his girlfriend and he, promoted from assistant to special assistant, had limitless prospects.
"What should I reply to him?" she asked.
Meng Xianwen wiped his hair with a hand, indifferent. "Whatever you want."
Ning Zhen said "Oh" and typed back: [Discharged tomorrow LOL]
"You’re pretty close with him?" he asked casually.
“He’s kind of like my senior from school,” Ning Zhen said. She glanced at his open suitcase but didn’t see a hairdryer. She got up, searched the hospital room, found one in the cabinet, plugged it in, and patted the back of the single seater sofa. “Let me dry your hair. If you catch a cold, Uncle will literally skin me alive.”
She wasn’t joking.
She had genuine feelings for Xiao Xuezhen, who had always liked her. For one thing, Ning Zhen had been sweet-talking since she was a child, and for another, their names shared the same pronunciation—it felt like fate. So, when the truth about her and Meng Xianwen came out, even though Xiao Xuezhen looked troubled, she never humiliated Ning Zhen in public.
Meng Jingshan was different. Maybe it came with holding a high position. He could disguise himself well in his youth, but as he got older, he let loose, wearing his emotions on his sleeve. It had nothing to do with emotional intelligence—it was simply that he couldn’t be bothered to play along or put on a show anymore.
Every time she met Meng Jingshan’s critical gaze, Ning Zhen wanted to tell him, “There’s really no need for this, honestly. I’m just a fake girlfriend. I’m not actually going to be your daughter-in-law.”
Meng Xianwen studied her for a moment, then walked over and sat down.
The warm air from the hairdryer hummed softly.
“I posted on Moments,” she said.
In the warmth, Ning Zhen spoke before he could respond. She unlocked her phone and handed it to him, her tone intimate. “See for yourself.”
She then covered her mouth as if remembering his amnesia. Leaning down, she carefully entered the password right under his nose, chuckling. “Oh, I almost forgot—you’re the one who can’t remember the password…”
She pressed the digits one by one.
“So now, memorize it again. It’s your birthday. Speaking of,” she continued, casually bringing up the past with a sweet lilt in her voice, “you were the one who changed it, saying I needed to remember your birthday every single moment.”
“…”
Meng Xianwen’s expression faltered.
Losing his memory indeed felt awful. Right now, he couldn’t see how this absurd story she told had anything to do with him, yet he had no way to refute it.
…
“It’s dry,” she said.
Ning Zhen took the chance to ruffle his hair, biting her lip to hide a smile. She figured she still wasn’t bold enough, her heart still too kind. If she were truly ruthless, she’d shave his head bald with clippers and vent the anger she’d held back over the past three months.
“Thanks,” Meng Xianwen said, subtly distancing himself from her.
After freshening up, he felt comfortable and relaxed, gaining the mood for a casual conversation. He gestured with his chin for her to sit, then regarded her calmly. “Let’s talk.”
Ning Zhen’s heart sank.
But what had to come, always came.
Ha.
As if she didn’t know what kind of person he was.
He was the sort who could in an instant think up the scheme of having her pose as his girlfriend to deal with the Song family while walking away unscathed. Ruthless and cunning. She was the perfect candidate—he couldn’t risk bringing in just anyone, afraid things might backfire. With her, he wasn’t worried, because he had leverage over her. When he was in a good mood, he’d keep her around a little longer; when he wasn’t, he’d dump her outright.
Meng Xianwen didn’t truly care who his girlfriend was.
Anyone could fill that role, as long as they obeyed, were controllable, behaved like a mascot, and didn’t interfere with his life or his career.
Song Yuqing couldn’t meet those standards, so he never even considered a marriage alliance with her.
The benefits of such a marriage paled in comparison to what he’d lose.
Similarly, now that he’d lost his memory, what did he fear most?
Change, shifts, loss of control.
He probably didn’t want to break up even more than she did. On this critical juncture, a breakup would invite all sorts of speculation—exactly what he didn’t want.
Ning Zhen put away the hairdryer, steadied her emotions, and decided to strike first. Locking eyes with him, she choked up. “You want to break up with me, don’t you? Jiaran told me today that you’ve forgotten some things. I thought about it, and it seems like you only forgot the unimportant stuff.”
“That means I’m unimportant too, doesn’t it? So, when you said you loved me before, it was all lies, right?”
“Meng Xianwen, you bastard!”
