Qian carried the packed dishes and followed Ni Jianren, whose face was like iron, leaving the hotel.
Obviously feeling sorry about the money but pretending not to care, Jianren's reaction only amused Qian.
Jianren's red QQ stopped by the roadside; to save on parking fees, he'd rather risk a ticket, unwilling to spend even a few bucks, yet he paid so much for Qian. The psychological shadow area is incalculable.
The more unsatisfied he is, the happier Qian is.
Outside, there were kids riding bikes. Seeing these kids about Xiaowei's age contrasted with Jianren's dung-like face, making the evening breeze feel infinitely good; summer is a wonderful time.
It was only her own fault she was too young when she met a douchebag in her past life.
Otherwise, with his kind of "QQ" driver, choosing red is a sissy loser who dares to bully her.
Ni Jianren walked to the car without glancing at the woman who swiped half of his month's salary and said stiffly,
"I'm not going in your direction; you walk back yourself."
"You mean, you're the bottom?"
In her past life, Qian hadn't figured out Jianren and his fling's positioning issues; now she understood.
Calculative like a nagging old wife, certainly the bottom.
Perhaps because he can't get it up at the front, so he willingly plays bottom, Qian thought, somewhat wickedly.
"What did you say?" Jianren was distressed about the money and didn't hear clearly.
"I said, leave these for you, take your time eating them." Qian adjusted her glasses and handed the meal box to him.
These were the dishes she "carefully selected" for the douchebag.
According to her understanding of him, after sending her back, he would surely seek out his boyfriend for some sobbing.
These dishes, they would surely appreciate.
The douchebag thought of how this woman ate up half his monthly salary in one meal and wished he could marry her right away and beat her three times a day.
If he could recover even a bit of his losses, that would be good, as he snatched Qian's meal box and left without looking back.
Qian carried the packed dishes and slowly walked back.
Inside, all were seafood.
Once, her favorite food was seafood. When she first started her business, her daughter was still young, her consultancy couldn't get big deals, and life was quite tight. But whenever she earned some money, she would take her daughter out for seafood.
The two-year-old girl held a crab as big as her head, eating with her face all smudged.
Later, as her career took off, she got busier and busier. Though the money grew, the opportunities to dine with her daughter dwindled. She found the best meal service center for Xiaowei, ensuring she had the most luxurious seafood daily, but her daughter didn't seem much happier.
When she realized she had spent little time with her child and wished to spend more, the douchebag kidnapped her daughter.
From then on, Qian never touched her favorite seafood.
Thinking of her daughter triggered Qian's compulsion; she wandered around, finding a water pipe in the roadside greenery, walked over, set down the meal box, opened it, continually washing her hands.
Her face felt moist; Qian looked up, thinking it was splashed water. How could she cry? She, a mother who failed to care for her daughter, didn't deserve to cry.
She could endure ten thousand forms of negative criticism from the world, aware she wasn't a good person. Yet among those ten thousand, not included was the label of a bad mother.
But the fact remains, she lost her daughter. Even with the power to retaliate against the douchebag ten thousand times, each revenge left a larger void in her heart. She couldn't forgive herself.
Yu Minglang passed by, seeing from afar a Qian immersed in sorrow yet pretending to be strong.
She seemed to love washing her hands, crying while doing it, her expression detached with sadness, losing a world.
What's happening with this girl?
After washing her hands, Yu Minglang noticed she seemed like a different person: calm—no, cold.
She's a girl with a story; from her several displays, Yu Minglang grew increasingly curious, sensing that this seemingly fragile girl harbored enormous sorrow and a rejection of the world.
Suddenly, a stray kitten seemed drawn by the seafood scent from Qian's meal box, approaching, sniffing.
The kitten looked dirty, with injuries.
Qian squatted down, opened the meal box, used disposable chopsticks to pick out seafood, with a healing smile watching the cat eat joyfully.
The night lights in the park softly cast on her face. How many sides does a girl have? Which one is truly her?
While observing the park, Yu Minglang distractedly pondered this question.
In a few minutes, he'd represent the company in negotiations. With time left, he mused on this girl.
Cold, even derisive toward her parents and passersby, yet so gentle and soft with children and animals.
The kitty ate happily, as did Qian while feeding it.
The stray cat meowed repeatedly, gazing at Qian as if expressing gratitude.
"Eat more, there's plenty. You can call your cat friends to join. Rather than feed my food to those ungrateful jerks at home, I'd rather feed you guys. At least you harbor no malice and understand gratitude, right, meow-meow? Will you recognize me next time?"
Qian talked to herself, unaware the distant man was already a bit moved.
How lonely must a person be to hope for a cat's recognition? It must be the people around her making her feel unloved. Hence, this girl, who should have been soft and kind, uses coldness to hide her heart but unconsciously releases her true self to animals.
Qian ordered so much pricey seafood, never intending to take it home. Making the douchebag upset while feeding cats and dogs is pretty good.
The kitten licked away, and soon a group of kittens and puppies gathered. Qian opened each meal box, unknowingly smiling, watching them gobble down.
At this moment, feeding cats and dogs, secretly plotting the harshest plans, Qian unknowingly became the lonely, pitiful, fragile cutie in Yu Minglang's heart.
Suddenly, Qian sensed a bizarre noise from the grass, followed by something tearing the air—a bang; smoke rose from the grass, startling her.
"Damn! Which naughty kid threw a firecracker!"
From the smoking grass emerged a man, covered in smoke, dismal. Who bothered the grass rendezvous?
"Aren't you ashamed? Hurry up and leave!" said another woman emerging, face red and muttering; Qian was close by, somewhat surprised.
People here?
Disliking having her thoughts seen, she knitted her brows but quickly smoothed them.
She spoke so softly that those people couldn't have heard.
Well, no one heard; they all saw.