Yuan Meng stared at the words about Mu Ran “losing it” for a long moment, then quietly switched off her phone.
Hah — she’d forgotten. Yan Ke’er could be insufferably clingy, and Mu Ran wasn’t someone to be toyed with.
“I’m not feeling well. I’ll head off early. You all enjoy the rest of the meal.” Yuan Meng rose.
Hearing her stand, Ling Qianchen frowned and got up with her. “I’ll walk you out.”
Maybe he’d grown tired of the questions at the celebration and wanted to leave early himself. Or maybe he just liked showing off.
“No need. I can go by myself.” Yuan Meng smiled politely, though the smile barely masked the turbulence beneath.
If that dog of a man insisted on escorting her, she thought wryly, she might not be able to stop herself from losing her temper.
Ling persisted, “It’s no trouble.”
Their little tug-of-war drew the staff’s attention; everyone in the tech department perked up, sensing drama. They watched with bright, hungry eyes.
Yuan Meng inhaled slowly, then said, “Fine.”
The single word came out like a grit between her teeth. Ling, oblivious to the edge in her voice, remained gentlemanly and opened the door for her. He’d been eager to show off his care because Han Wen wasn’t there — Han Wen had stepped out to the restroom and missed the moment Yuan Meng left.
Once the door to the private room closed behind them, Yuan Meng turned, brow knotted. “Mr. Ling, I don’t have any feelings for you. Don’t waste your time on me.”
They were adults; she’d said it clearly. There was no point in dragging it out. It was tedious.
Ling’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Ai Yue, I just want you to give me a chance.”
“As for my marriage, I’ll sort that out. You—”
Yuan Meng held up her hand, cutting him off. “Whether your marriage is a problem or not, I won’t be interested.”
“Mr. Ling, no matter what people say, we’re partners. I don’t want to put things bluntly.” She nodded once, then saw Han Wen approaching from the corner. She immediately took his arm — she wasn’t going to leave her senior behind alone in the room.
Ling’s mouth tightened into a thin line as the two of them walked away. A stab of pain hit his chest. He moved to the window and watched until he saw the car pull away.
To see her leave with someone else and to hear her so coldly dismiss him stung. But feelings don’t obey reason. He had fallen for her in a way he couldn’t simply switch off. If falling out of love were that easy, he wouldn’t have to face rejection every time and still keep walking toward her.
In the car, Han Wen’s eyes curved with amusement. “I heard what you said to him.”
Yuan Meng nodded. “Mm.”
It wasn’t anything worth dwelling on. It had been said; that was enough.
“You did the right thing — turning him down straight away,” Han Wen said.
“My straight refusals probably do nothing,” Yuan Meng replied with wryness. “If they worked, he wouldn’t keep coming back to bother me.”
She truly couldn’t understand him. No matter how cutting she was, Ling didn’t seem fazed. He acted like her words didn’t matter. Was he stubborn, or was he just hopelessly convinced that he loved her?
Her thoughts churned. She slammed her foot on the accelerator and pushed the car to the legal limit, racing back to Blue Tone. Han Wen had meant to say more, but the speed nearly made him sick — he clutched the handle and swallowed hard until the nausea passed.
By the time they pulled into Blue Tone, Luo Yishan had sent a message.
[Luo Yishan: If you don’t get back soon, you’re dead.]
Yuan Meng sucked in a quick breath and sped toward the door, fingers flying over her phone as she replied. Han Wen was left in her wake, shoulders hunched and eyes a little haunted from the ride.
Blue Tone.
“You used to be different, Yuan Meng. Did something happen to you?” Yan Ke’er peered at her with curiosity.
Back then, Yuan Meng — or Mu Ran? — had carried a fragile sort of grace, like a timid white rabbit. But now her face was the same and yet she seemed less delicate, more like a carnivorous blossom.
Mu Ran glared at Yan Ke’er, impatient. She’d never thought one person could chatter so much in so little time. Mu Ran’s temper was short; a fly buzzing at her ear would be enough to set her off. Today, a ceaseless stream of prattle felt intolerable.
Lu Nanwei stood nearby, intending to pester Mu Ran about a manuscript. But before she could open her mouth, Yan Ke’er had already launched into a volley of questions. Lu Nanwei was sharper and sensed Mu Ran’s mood instantly, so she bit her tongue — it wasn’t the day to prod.
Yan Ke’er rambled on, oblivious. “Why are you ignoring me? You told me you’d thought it through and were going to divorce Ling Qianchen. What are you going to do now? I saw him with that girl earlier, the one he’s chasing — she clearly doesn’t like him…”
Yan Ke’er found a new thread and kept pulling. Mu Ran said nothing, and yet Yan kept chattering away as if she were alone.
“Little sister, you’ve said so much — drink something to moisten your throat, something low-proof,” Luo Yishan pushed a glass toward Yan Ke’er, hoping a sip would quiet her.
He prayed the noise would ebb. But as he leaned in, his hand slipped; the wine splashed across Mu Ran’s dress.
“Oh—” Luo Yishan mumbled, snatching for napkins to blot at the stain. Nothing came clean.
“Sorry — I didn’t mean to. Why don’t you go change?” he said, flustered.
“I’ll change,” Mu Ran answered and left on brisk feet.
Yan Ke’er narrowed her eyes and, hand to her stomach, pretended to gag. “Ugh… I feel awful. I think I drank too much—ugh…”
She staggered away, dry-heaving, leaving Luo Yishan staring after her. “That was the erguotou I grabbed earlier? No way…”