“Phew… Although it’s none of your business, I’ll explain anyway!”
Zhang Fan backed out of the room and looked up at Zhou Wenzong:
“The one last night was my schoolmate from the same university. He’s a gentleman and was worried I might run into something bad again, so he kindly walked me back to my room. Today, I’m going to the concert alone with two tickets because he gave me two tickets in the first place!
Maybe your world is full of glitz and glamour, and you’ve seen it all, but please don’t project that onto everyone—especially onto me!
I may have a clear conscience, but I still fear shadows at my heels, because your strange looks and behind-the-back slander will make my mood… very… bad!”
She rolled her eyes and turned away without hesitation.
Zhou Wenzong reached out his long arm and snatched one of the tickets from her hand.
“What are you doing?” Zhang Fan turned around, looking at him in disbelief.
“Isn’t it a waste of resources for you to watch with two tickets alone?” He glanced at the ticket and raised an eyebrow. “Front row, huh?”
“Whether it’s a waste or not, what’s it got to do with you? You’re such a rich second-generation heir—do you really need to take advantage of such a small thing?”
Zhang Fan tried to grab her ticket back, but her arm wasn’t as long as his, and she wasn’t as tall either.
“What do you mean, taking advantage? I helped you get thirty days of room vouchers, and you haven’t given me a single one!”
Zhou Wenzong smiled with a hint of feigned hurt.
“Well…” Zhang Fan was speechless. Fine, she hadn’t been fair about it. She’d assumed he was rich and hadn’t even thought about it that way.
Besides, at the time, he’d only said to treat him to a meal!
“Deal—I’ll give you the ticket, and we’re even! Don’t bring up the room vouchers again in a few days!”
She turned around helplessly, walked back to her room, and closed the door.
“What a small world—fated enemies always cross paths!”
She kicked off her shoes, jumped onto the bed, and decided to take an afternoon nap.
The concert would end around eleven or twelve at night, so she needed to be in good shape.
She slept for two hours, then spent another hour on skincare, makeup, and getting ready.
When she stepped out, it was just about dinnertime.
In this big city, all she could see were crowds of busy people and cold, indifferent faces.
Strip away all the filters, and there wasn’t much good here either.
The roads had potholes, and scattered trash lined the curbs.
People cursed and did uncivilized things.
Walk into any shop, and if the staff saw you dressed plainly, they’d put on a cold face and look down their noses at you.
There was no warmth here.
There was still some time before the concert started.
Walking down the bustling street, Zhang Fan felt a sense of detachment.
The air here was really dry, and her lips were already starting to peel.
Compared to this, she still preferred her hometown. Even though no one there paid her much attention, at least it was full of blooming splendor.
She didn’t go to the crowded tourist spots or try the specialty dishes. Instead, she booked a private home-style restaurant online.
Tucked among the high-rises was a courtyard house with no sign outside, just like an ordinary residence—except a doorman stood at the entrance to greet guests.
The doorman was also dressed smartly, not in the typical hotel uniform.
The pricing here wasn’t based on how many dishes you ordered, but per seat.
A two-person table was charged as a table, even if you sat there alone.
There was no menu—you just told the server about any dietary restrictions.
Zhang Fan had almost no dietary restrictions. She could handle spicy and sweet foods, and even scallions, ginger, and garlic were fine—her only aversion was cilantro.
It was a genetic thing; the smell of cilantro made her dizzy.
Before long, the waiter brought out the dishes.
The high price was justified—the food here was truly beautiful.
The plates were exquisite, and the dishes they held looked equally appetizing.
On a light blue plate, like something out of an incense burner, sat a small, vibrant piece of braised pork belly.
When she picked it up with her chopsticks, the skin and fat separated like jelly, so she had to gently scoop it up with a small spoon and bring it to her mouth.
The first taste was savory and fresh. As the skin and fat melted on her tongue, the soft texture gave way to not just umami, but a lingering, subtle sweetness.
Almost without chewing, the meat slid down her throat on its own.
The moment it went down, it felt like every cell in her body rejoiced.
In just a few bites, the piece of braised pork was gone.
She hadn’t had her fill yet, but the second dish had already been swapped in.
Marshal Shrimp, Wensi Tofu, Chrysanthemum Beauty Soup…
By the time the fruit platter arrived, Zhang Fan felt she still hadn’t eaten her fill.
But that was fine—after all, as the saying goes, “One cup is savoring, two cups is quenching thirst like a fool, and three cups is drinking like an ox or a mule!”
When something is too beautiful, having too much of it becomes mundane.
No matter how delicious the food, once you’re stuffed, it turns cloying.
Eating to seven-tenths full is good for your health, and when you think back on the meal later, it will still leave you with endless aftertaste.
She finished her meal quietly, then stood up to leave.
In the small courtyard, there was a tall white magnolia tree. The lights cast upon it gave it a cool, ethereal beauty.
A breeze blew, and a fully bloomed white magnolia flower twirled down, drifting past her face.
She casually reached out, and the flower landed in her palm.
A withered blossom, yet it still retained its original, beautiful form.
Zhang Fan’s mood lifted along with it; she felt she had been gifted something.
She checked the time—it was just right to head to the concert now.
But what she didn’t know was that there would be a security check!
A long line stretched ahead, a sea of people, looking utterly despair-inducing.
Fortunately, the security check was quick. After having her ticket verified and picking up her fan support props, she found her seat according to the number.
From a distance, she could see Zhou Wenzong already sitting there, head down, looking at his phone.
He wore a black short-sleeved shirt, his long legs casually crossed.
The warm-up music started playing, and the speakers reminded the audience to sit quietly.
Zhang Fan took a deep breath and walked over to sit beside Zhou Wenzong.
“Thought you weren’t coming!” the man said with a scoff, turning his head. The moment his gaze landed on Zhang Fan’s face, his expression froze for a split second.
“Sorry to disappoint you—I’m here!” Zhang Fan grinned with a fake smile and pulled a glow stick out of her tote bag.
Seeing her childish antics, the man just smiled.
The lights went out, and the stage’s lift platform slowly rose.
“Ahh!”
The woman in the seat next to her suddenly let out a shriek, startling Zhang Fan so much she flinched, turning her head in disbelief.
As the singer began to sing, the wave of sound from behind nearly knocked people over.
Zhang Fan sat there completely dazed, feeling like she couldn’t hear a thing—just the crowd screaming around her.
“That’s right! After enduring so much coldness!”
The hoarse, desperate shout, carrying a fury like charging into battle, nearly blew the top of Zhang Fan’s head off.
She gripped the armrests of her seat tightly, shrinking there, small and helpless.
Zhou Wenzong glanced at her pathetic state and couldn’t help but want to laugh.
The two of them sat there like a pair of oddballs, firmly planted in the front row of the concert, not even waving their glow sticks.
The people next to them couldn’t take it anymore and hauled them to their feet.
“Sing!”
“Huh?”
“Sing along!”
We don’t know how!
“You two aren’t spies, are you?”