Chapter Five, It Seems Like an Old Friend Has Arrived (Five)

The woman was taken aback and tactfully stepped back

An Yuan did not speak, and the car window in front of her was rolled up, cutting off the man's face.

It is best to love for a lifetime, but who can regard love as a lifelong interest

Her character is so unkind that she is bound to quarrel with someone. Perhaps there will even be women who, out of jealousy, will infuriate her to the point of stomping her feet. Just the thought of it is enough to make Jing Fuzhou curl the corners of his mouth.

The vase at the end of the corridor approached, and in that moment, her crimson lips made her resemble a ghostly figure beckoning the souls. Jing Fuzhou rarely lost his temper with women, not because he possessed great restraint, but simply because he did not care. However, the premise of a master's gentleness is that the pet must be obedient, and this woman had clearly crossed the line. As she walked closer to him, he took a step back and admonished her: "Get lost"

The dampness spread from the tip of his heart, causing his lips to press uncomfortably together. The smoke was tasteless, the evening breeze was tasteless, and even the most flavorful woman in the drum tower had lost her color, resembling a large vase standing at the end of the corridor. Jing Fuzhou called out loudly, "Ayang," but the surroundings were quiet; his subordinate had likely fallen into some gentle haven again.

"Boss Jing, you are the most caring boss I have ever seen for your employees," An Yuan said as she helped him close the car door and left with her violin. As she bent down just now, he caught a glimpse of her delicate collarbone. Unconsciously, he clenched his right hand, and Jing Fuzhou rolled down the car window, calling out to her back, "An Yuan"

As he drew closer, An Yuan closed her eyes

Closing his eyes, Jing Fuzhou brushed off the ash from his fingertips, pinching his index and thumb together, reminiscing about the feeling of holding her chin back then. Her skin was smooth and slightly cool, her chin delicate and petite, as if it could be crushed with just a little pressure. Yet, if one day he were to hold her chin again, he would surely still be reluctant to apply any force.

A week later, the autumn in Lingchuan arrived without any warning. Girls were still walking up and down the street in short skirts; they were young and still had the capital to squander. This Friday, Jing Fuzhou appeared under the white building on campus, having no way to contact her, so he stood there waiting.

Her breath was light and shallow, and the light in her eyes flickered. At this moment, she had let down his invitation, but for some reason, Jing Fuzhou saw a hint of disappointment on her face. That expression tugged at his nerves; he grabbed her arm and led her out of the crowd, out of the door of the dance floor.

During this period, Jing Fuzhou's most profound understanding of An Yuan is that she likes Anita Mui. Whether it is the song "Like an Old Friend Coming" that she sang during her first performance, or the duet "Love is Hard" that should have been sung by both a man and a woman, she has infused her own flavor into both. Today, she wore a qipao, as if she had truly returned to the old Hong Kong of the 1990s, a place of singing and dancing, while she is a fallen person waiting for redemption

As she spoke, her delicate chin lifted. Jing Fuzhou pinched his thumb and index finger together, the slick sensation evoking a sense of nostalgia. He turned around, took out the black umbrella from the back seat of the car, and handed it to her: "You left something behind with me."

This weekend, An Yuan will come to work at Dream Death. With her beautiful voice and cool demeanor, she has already attracted a regular audience. Most of these spectators are men, some are other people's husbands, and some are even other people's fathers. They find a false sense of youthful vitality in the young girls, stuffing wads of cash into the girls' bras.

"An Yuan," he moved a little closer, the distance between them narrowing, her slightly upturned lips made his gaze deepen: "I feel that what you just said was very much like a confession of love to me"

That was the first time he called him so seriously, and it was even the first time he earnestly called a woman other than Jing Ran. An Yuan turned her head upon hearing the voice; it was dark, and the evening breeze had picked up. Her bangs were messy, making it difficult for him to see her expression.

She said she is a one-of-a-kind flower in this world, but she is toxic and thorny, making her difficult to pick

Things progressed faster than she had anticipated, yet they also spiraled out of control more than she had expected

Are you saying this just for that? An Yuan reached out to tidy her hair, smiling somewhat inexplicably

Jing Fuzhou also felt inexplicably perplexed and mustered the courage to continue: "Shall I buy you a new one?"

However, he also feels that An Yuan has all these shortcomings; she always uses her cleverness to make him appear like a fool. Yet, he does not dislike An Yuan; his bottom line can be slightly lowered for her, of course, only slightly.

"Why don't we do it once, so that no one has any regrets?" Jing Fuzhou suddenly revealed a smile, which reflected in An Yuan's eyes, causing her hand to unconsciously clench into a fist. His handsome face drew closer, his breath hot and filled with possessiveness, as his large hand grasped her waist, cutting off her escape route.

Indeed, she is nineteen years old this year, an age when one can freely express love. He, on the other hand, is thirty. Compared to the words "I love you," he feels that tearing open her qipao with his hands and burying himself within her body is far more genuine. He has even begun to contemplate what kind of room he should arrange for her in the Drum Tower, perhaps one that is slightly larger than others, to accommodate her musical instruments

However, being anticipated and liked is not necessarily a bad thing. A man's vanity partly stems from the indulgence of the women around him. His hand slowly rests against the wall, leaning close to Anyuan's ear, the smell of smoke from his body wafting into her nostrils, as they silently compete with each other in their gaze.

It would be great if Jing Ran were here; he wants to eat the fried rice she makes

An wish stands on the stage, while the audience below is a chaotic mix of people, resembling a picture of life, both awkward and absurd

The decor in the dream was resplendent, reminiscent of a palace from the medieval period. An Yuan leaned against the wall, quietly waiting for him to speak. The disappointment in her eyes was laid bare under the bright lights, leaving Jing Fuzhou feeling perplexed: "Why?"

Boss Jing, I have thought it over, and I will not go to Gulou

She then walked towards him again

She held the microphone with both hands, her eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on Jing Fuzhou. Gazing at each other from a distance, she sang: "Perhaps love is difficult, and the difficulty lies in the fact that each party has their own expectations. What should we do? Even unrequited love is hard; receiving too much kindness brings guilt, yet there is no strength to repay..."

Yes, he is waiting for her to embrace him.

Will An Yuan, dressed in a hoodie and jeans, just sit in the back seat of a boy's car, squandering her youth like this

On the day the typhoon arrived, Jing Fuzhou did not wait for An Yuan. This separation lasted for a week. An Yuan's umbrella was still at his place; every day when he left for work, he would see it in the back seat of the car, a black floral pattern, which he thought was not suitable for a girl's taste

She watched the cars below from upstairs, allowing more than three hours to pass by. When Jing Fuzhou opened the car door and got out, she had changed her clothes and ran downstairs with her violin on her back

She indeed took a leave of absence, but not because she was unwell. She wanted to see where Jing Fuzhou's bottom line was; if she just disappeared for a while, would he worry? To give him enough reason, she even deliberately left her umbrella behind. However, he did not come, and her waiting shifted from confidence to anxiety. Then, on that afternoon, she saw his car.

"Is there anything else, Boss Jing?" Her voice carried over the wind, marked by her distinctive huskiness. A bright girl should not possess such a voice, yet at this moment, he found it incredibly sexy: "Come here."

It was precisely the time for class to end, and groups of girls were coming in and out. He felt that Anyuan must be among these girls, and just imagining it made him feel the vibrant energy of youth. As the sky gradually darkened, Ayang yawned in the driver's seat and advised him: "Zhou Ge, why don't you just give her a call? You already have her phone number, after all."

She is going to class soon, so he cannot take her anywhere. An Yuan found a small way out for herself, and her whole being became relaxed: "Why are you here?"

Anwen slowly turned her slender eyes, avoiding his gaze

He indeed had no reason to stay. The campus was bustling with people, and when girls passed by, they greeted An Yuan and then cast their gaze upon his face. They were probably speculating about who Jing Fuzhou was; he looked very young, but not in a youthful way typical of adolescents, rather in a manner that was youthful compared to his peers, in terms of appearance.

Opening the box, an old violin appeared before Jing Fuzhou. It was then that he remembered that she was a destitute student; otherwise, she would not have resorted to singing in her dreams to earn money. Anyuan noticed his emotions and explained to him calmly: "It's second-hand, relatively inexpensive"

Is it because he did not go to the Drum Tower, or is it because he showed such an expression? Perhaps he himself does not know, and in his heart, he is more inclined to which one she would answer.

The typhoon made his heart feel a bit damp, as he looked down at the street below, where a boy rode his bicycle through the garden, and the girl on the back seat scattered laughter all the way.

He is thirty years old this year, and his heart seems to be aging a little more.

"Why didn't you come to work last week?" Jing Fuzhou shifted his gaze from the violin and looked at her gently. He often spoke to women with this expression; if he added a slight smile, it would appear even more tender. He intended to look at her tenderly.

She unexpectedly voiced his initial thoughts, only this time it was her speaking. His hidden feelings were exposed, and the statement became quite sordid. Jing Fuzhou looked at her steadily and after a long pause nodded: "I have no intention of pursuing women, nor will I engage in ambiguous relationships; those are all too much of a waste of time for me. But I will not force anyone; you decide for yourself. Let me know next time we meet."

"Boss Jing, I have thought about what you mentioned last time," An Yuan said, tilting her head. Someone on stage began to sing again, but Jing Fuzhou could only see her lips moving and could not hear what she was saying. Suddenly, his tie was tugged, and An Yuan's lips were pressed against his ear, her breath brushing against him, so ticklish.

She is so young, yet she always carries a hint of antiquated beauty. She sings very old Cantonese songs and wears vintage-colored lipstick. She has a pair of slender eyes, as if she has stepped down from an ancient tale, a fallen woman of respectable family.

As the distance closed and the voice became clearer, his expression instantly fell.

Each word and each sentence seemed deliberately sung for him, and it was also certain that he could understand it

Ah, I was wondering why I couldn't find it. An Yuan took the umbrella, her eyes reflecting a pure honesty that was seamlessly performed: "Are you going back now?"

Jing Fuzhou remained silent, opened the car door, and stepped out, leaning against the car body while lowering his head to light a cigarette for himself. He harbored his own secret thoughts; if his intentions were noble, then he could not be a scoundrel. Even if he were, he must first conceal it for a while before she threw herself into his arms.

She knew he would deny it, as it was his stubbornness, a form of male pride that he was still unwilling to let go of. Just a second before Jing Fuzhou could deny it, An Yuan interrupted him: "I heard you have a place called Drum Tower, where many women are kept. Does Boss Jing want to keep me there as well?"

He is waiting for her, waiting for the answer that resides in her heart

I am nineteen years old this year, and I still have a lot of time and many places I have yet to visit. I do not want to dedicate my youth to just one man, especially under the circumstances that you do not love me. An Yuan responded to the first question in his heart, and then she raised her hand to touch her neck, saying with difficulty: "Boss Jing, I thought I would be the one who is different, but perhaps I was just overthinking it."

He actually wanted to ask her, just as he asked all women, "Do you want to go to Gulou?" How could a woman who dreams not know about Gulou? It is the destination of their dreams. However, as An Yuan approached, she gazed at him, and the words that were originally on the tip of her tongue suddenly got stuck, leaving Jing Fuzhou somewhat awkward. He casually blurted out an irrelevant comment: "... An Yuan, your violin is too old."

He also does not wish to seek out Li Hua, for she will cry upon seeing him, not having recognized her own position. He detests women who are incessantly clingy, who act capriciously, and who presume to be clever.

His hand naturally rested on her waist, slightly leaning to match her height. The sensation beneath his palm was pleasant, not the bony figure he had imagined. A multitude of splendid fantasies began to fill his mind, and Jing Fuzhou firmly believed that, when it comes to men and women, it is simply that straightforward.

"Boss Jing, you cannot smoke here." The cigarette between his fingers was taken away, and he saw the face he had been longing for. An Yuan had just come out of the building, wearing a cotton long dress and sports shoes. She threw the cigarette into a nearby trash can and then ran back, her backpack swaying with her movements, catching Jing Fuzhou's attention: "What are you carrying on your back?"

His words caused A-Yang, who was in front, to look over in slight surprise. That look of astonishment fell into An Yuan's eyes, which eased her mind a little. She sighed and smiled ambiguously, "Boss Jing, are you trying to pursue me?"

The second question in his mind has also been answered

As a song concluded, An Yuan gracefully descended from the stage in her high heels. She did not return to the backstage but instead made her way through the crowd towards Jing Fuzhou. A faint scent of powder brushed past the man, yet it could not be grasped.

At first, I thought you would be different from others, but later the standards lowered, and I felt that at least I was different for you. Boss Jing, my bottom line cannot be lowered any further. Her eyeliner was smudged, and there was a faint mist in her eyes. Jing Fuzhou did not speak; he did not believe that someone he had only met for just over a month could have such deep feelings for him, such sincere expectations.

Nodding slightly, Jing Fuzhou turned around to prepare to get into the car: "Hmm, remember to be on time for work this weekend"

One can tell from the outline what it is, but he just wants to strike up a conversation with her. An Yuan seems to be in a good mood today, without any meaningful glances, nor any deliberate closeness or distance. She smiles and brings the box on her back in front of him, presenting it as if showcasing a treasure: "I have a violin lesson to attend shortly."

The next day, the long-awaited typhoon finally arrived, but the promised peace did not appear. Her umbrella was still placed in the back seat, a black patterned one, not something a girl of eighteen or nineteen would typically like. Jing Fuzhou stood in the corridor of the Drum Tower smoking; he hadn't sought anyone today. The cigarette from last night had given him a taste of sweetness, and thus all the women in the Drum Tower became rather bland.

Ah, is it the day the typhoon came? An Yuan smiled and said: I was feeling unwell that day and asked the supervisor for leave

It is unclear when it began, but Jing Fuzhou's gaze no longer focused on her legs beneath the high-slit cheongsam, but rather on her face. When she sang, she would occasionally close her eyes, her eyelashes fluttering slightly, as light and shadow were cut by her presence. The vintage lipstick color and her softly curled hair made her seem as if she had stepped down from those old posters.

He could not wait for A Yang, and before that, he did not want to see anyone. Leaving alone, the key to the Maserati was in A Yang's hand, and a Rolls-Royce was parked in the Gulou garage. He liked that vintage model but felt it was too ostentatious, so he rarely drove it. At this moment, he did not think too much about it and drove the Rolls-Royce home.