As the sales associate went to process the payment, he was already planning to take Qian Dailan upstairs to remove her heavy makeup and redo it properly.
Liang Wanyin reminded him, “The reservation time is coming up.”
She glanced at Qian Dailan again.
Tall and slim, her makeup was garish and thick—not exactly ugly, but her mascara was clumped like spider legs, stiff and unpolished.
Once she removed the makeup, she’d probably be just an average pretty girl.
The reserved restaurant was on the top floor, so they had to take the elevator all the way up.
It was Qian Dailan’s first time riding in a transparent glass elevator.
She was afraid of heights, so she didn’t dare to move her legs.
Standing frozen in place, she stared straight out the glass, both curious and terrified, filled with anticipation—like a startled young deer seeing humans for the first time.
Liang Wanyin shot daggers at Ye Xijing with her eyes.
Ye Xijing ignored her, his attention solely on Qian Dailan.
Awkward and stiff, but kind of adorable.
Though, this kind of cuteness could be considered charming in the early stages of a relationship.
Once things settled into a stable phase—especially with long distance—it would probably lose its appeal.
“Why does Xiyan suddenly want to meet her?” Liang Wanyin asked.
“I thought he wasn’t interested in your personal life.”
“I don’t know either,” Ye Xijing replied.
“You know how he is, he’s the type who…”
He paused for a moment before saying, “My brother only dates with the intention of marriage.”
Qian Dailan praised, “That’s a great approach to relationships.”
Ye Xijing continued, “And he only chooses a marriage partner based on whether the marriage would remain stable even without love.”
Qian Dailan sighed, “That’s a terrible view on marriage.”
Liang Wanyin shot her several sharp glances.
Qian Dailan didn’t notice.
She simply looked up at the shopping mall’s domed ceiling, admiring the way the sunlight streamed through the transparent glass and refracted off the crystal chandelier.
She didn’t care about this mysterious and old-fashioned “big brother,” nor did she care why Ye Xijing had brought her here.
She could even suppress the urge to argue with Liang Wanyin and go along with changing into new clothes just to please Ye Xijing.
Because she liked Ye Xijing.
Like wearing a pair of beautiful, comfortable shoes—she could ignore a few minor stains on them.
The three of them arrived.
The reserved restaurant was on the top floor, with their table set beside a large floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked a dazzling corner of this extravagant city.
A waiter guided them forward, and Qian Dailan noticed that a man was already seated there.
His skin was fair, his features refined.
He wore a crisp white shirt, a black suit, and a deep navy tie—looking just like the male leads in the Korean dramas she watched.
At that moment, he was carefully studying the menu.
Meanwhile, Ye Xijing and Liang Wanyin were still busy refining their lie—constructing a more convincing version of Qian Dailan’s fabricated identity as a “hardworking, self-supporting university student from a poor background.”
But Qian Dailan, with her long legs and quick strides, had already walked up to the man without hesitation.
“Nice to meet you, hello,” Qian Dailan greeted with a bright smile.
“I’m Qian Dailan. You must be Ye Xiyan, the famous ‘big brother Ye’? You’re even more handsome than I imagined—”
“Miss Qian Dailan?” The man stood up, gave a slight bow, and smiled politely.
“I’m Mr. Ye’s secretary, Yang Quan. Mr. Ye just stepped into the restroom—he’ll be back shortly.”
No exaggeration.
That one bow sent Qian Dailan straight into a Korean drama.
She awkwardly apologized, and Yang Quan smiled in return, saying, “No problem at all.”
Qian Dailan suddenly realized—his smile was as perfectly printed as a textbook illustration.
After her embarrassing blunder, Qian Dailan couldn’t help but turn back to look at Ye Xijing.
Ye Xijing walked over quickly, smiling at her while shaking his head.
Then, in his usual gentle manner, he turned to speak to the man.
Liang Wanyin teased, “She really is just a fresh-off-the-boat vase.”
Qian Dailan noticed Ye Xijing’s ear twitch, just like a cat’s.
His reaction was also very cat-like—he heard it, but he merely heard it.
No response, no reaction.
He remained focused on his conversation.
Qian Dailan said, “I need to use the restroom.”
She didn’t understand what part of that sentence amused Liang Wanyin, but the other woman burst into even louder laughter.
At this moment, Qian Dailan’s impression of this city wasn’t great.
Her stomach started feeling uncomfortable.
The train ride had been filled with unpleasant odors, the blankets carried a damp, moldy smell, and after spending a whole night on that freezing cold train without eating anything, she now felt like dry heaving.
The restroom here was more luxurious than Sister Mai’s proudly decorated shop—so extravagant that Qian Dailan couldn’t even locate the signs for “Men” and “Women.”
Instead, all she saw were unfamiliar pinyin words: Gent’s and Ladies’ s.
If she went back to ask, Liang Wanyin would definitely laugh at her again.
And since Liang Wanyin clearly cared so much about appearances, Qian Dailan—stubborn yet thoughtful—didn’t want to give her any more reasons to smirk.
So she stared at the signs for a long time, then confidently followed the standard men on the left, women on the right rule and stepped into the restroom marked Gent’s.
As soon as she entered and walked past a row of clean, polished sinks, she realized—she had made a mistake.
Unfortunately, it was the men’s restroom.
Fortunately, there was only one person inside.
And even more fortunately, that person had his back turned, standing at the urinal.
He was tall, dressed in a black shirt and black trousers, with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing a strong, well-defined arm.
Qian Dailan only had a split second to notice a long, faint scar on his left forearm before a rush of heat surged to her head.
She blurted out a quick, “Sorry!” and turned to run.
But—she didn’t make it far.
Her stomach, already unsettled, churned violently from the shock, and she could no longer hold it back.
Not wanting to vomit on the spotless floor and cause trouble for the cleaning staff, she rushed to the nearest sink.
With a loud gag, she threw up.
She twisted the faucet open hastily, letting the sound of gushing water drown out her retching.
The running water washed away the remnants of her stomach’s rebellion, but now she was a complete mess.
Scooping up cold water, she splashed it onto her face.
The hot tears, triggered by nausea and discomfort, rolled down her cheeks.
Damn.
Her makeup was ruined.
Out of habit, she reached into her pocket for tissues.
Before coming to Beijing, she had grabbed a whole roll of paper and folded some into her pocket.
But her hand came up empty.
Only then did she remember—she had changed into a dress.
The water continued to flow, and beside her, the man silently washed his hands.
His black shirt sleeves were still rolled up, revealing the long, faint scar on his left forearm.
It was the same man from earlier.
His composure was so steady, he almost seemed unreal.
Qian Dailan was still fumbling around, trying to locate the hidden tissue dispenser.
Yin Shenyuan had once mentioned that many public restrooms in Beijing provided free tissues by the sinks—
She just had no idea where they were hidden.
“Here.”
Still flustered, Qian Dailan looked up through wet eyelashes and water-blurred vision.
A slender, well-defined hand was stretched out in front of her, offering her a tissue.
“Apologies,” came a deep, gentle voice—pleasant and warm.
“Did I scare you just now? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Qian Dailan pressed the tissue against her eyes, slightly hunched over, her voice hoarse.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything.”
“Oh?”
The man asked calmly, “Didn’t see anything at all?”
“That’s right.”
Qian Dailan nodded, adding credibility to her claim.
“I’m a Tsinghua University student. Would I lie to you?”
She heard the man chuckle.
Big city people sure have impressive emotional stability.
“Well, while there’s no rule against ladies using the men’s restroom sink, it’s still not exactly appropriate,” the man said as he gestured to the side.
“The tissues are over here—goodbye, Tsinghua student.”
The remarkably composed man left in an equally composed manner.
Once his footsteps faded, Qian Dailan dashed into the adjacent women’s restroom.
She quickly wiped her face with tissues, carefully dabbing away the smudged makeup and clumped mascara before walking—now refined and composed—toward their reserved table.
Another man had joined their table.
Black shirt, broad-shouldered, with an upright posture, his back was partially hidden behind a cluster of leafy green plants.
Yang Quan was pouring tea for him.
Ye Xijing was the first to notice her and stood up.
“Dailan, come here,” he said with a smile, making the introduction.
“Bro, this is Dailan, my girlfriend. Dailan, this is my brother, Ye Xiyan.”
Ye Xiyan stood up.
His left sleeve, previously rolled up, was now lowered halfway, revealing a faint, long scar.
Qian Dailan didn’t even get a chance to look at his face—her expression had already slipped the moment she saw the scar.
Completely oblivious to the situation, Ye Xijing continued cheerfully, following the script as planned.
“Bro, Dailan has to go back to Peking University for classes this afternoon. Her schedule is packed,” he said.
“So after lunch, I’ll take her back. We won’t have time to hang out later.”
Qian Dailan : “…”
The script has changed, Xijing.
She wasn’t sure if she should be embarrassed for herself first or for Ye Xijing.
“Oh?”
She heard Ye Xiyan speak, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.
“Going back to Peking University for class? But why would a Tsinghua student be attending classes at Peking University?”
Ye Xijing was confused. “What do you mean, Tsinghua—”
“It’s like this,” Qian Dailan interrupted swiftly.
She took a deep bow toward Ye Xiyan, her face calm, her expression unwavering. “Brother, I did my undergrad at Tsinghua and recently got into Peking University for my master’s.”