Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios
“Ge Ge, I…”
He raised his head to look at her.
His handsome face was filled with seriousness.
She hummed curiously at him.
He moved to confess to her that she was the girl he had always liked and had an unrequited love for from the very start.
Alas, this was when Zhang Manhua walked in with two plates of cut fruit.
“Ge Ge, quickly help me with these.”
Seeing her mom return, Pei Ge quickly got up off the sofa and came to her aid.
“Mom, why didn’t you call me when you’re done? Can you handle two such huge plates?”
She reprimanded her mother affectionately and quickly received a plate from her.
“I thought that I could carry both; who would’ve known that I couldn’t?” her mother explained sheepishly.
After placing the two plates on the coffee table, her mother quickly served the man.
“What were you two talking about? I saw Mr. Fu’s solemn face,” her mother casually remarked.
“Oh, nothing much.” She mumbled while chewing a slice of orange. “We were just chatting about unimportant stuff.”
Fu Mingxuan could not help but feel a little bitter at this.
“Mr. Fu, do you have matter you wish to discuss specifically with our Ge Ge?”
Zhang Manhua turned to look at him with a smile.
“I…” He felt as though he had eaten goldthread root – the bitterness extended not only in his mouth but also in his heart.
Seeing Pei Ge cluelessly eating fruit, he sighed inwardly before he said softly, “It’s nothing. I only stopped by for a visit since it’s on the way…”
“Oh… I see. Then, Mr. Fu must have something on later.” Her mother kept smiling politely at him.
How could a businessman like him not notice that she was driving him out?
“…” He paused a little and then smiled politely. “Yes, I still have something on, so I’ll take my leave now.”
“Are you leaving already?” Pei Ge’s lips twitched, and she gave the man a look full of bafflement.
What did he come here for, then?
He said he’s here to talk to me, yet he only asked about me and Ziming, and now he’s already leaving…
“Yes, I have something on.” He smiled and got up off the sofa.
“Auntie, I’ll leave for now. I’ll come visit again another day.”
Zhang Manhua could not help but sigh inside when he politely bid her farewell.
He’s actually not bad. He is handsome, has manners, and seems capable of taking care of my daughter better than Xiao Ji.
Still, I find Xiao Ji more to my liking, and most importantly, my daughter likes him.
That’s why, no matter how good this one is, it won’t ever have a good ending.
After sending the man out, Pei Ge closed the door and heard her mother speak with exasperation.
“Not bad, my good daughter. Seems that your luck in love has been flourishing since last year.”
“Mom, what are you saying?” She turned to look at her confusedly.
“You’re still my daughter, after all. Even if you are plump, your beauty is still there.” Her mother beamed.
She rolled her eyes at her mother’s nonsensical words.
“Alright. Let’s stop this weird conversation and quickly go out to pray.”
With that, she went to her room to grab her bag and phone.
She switched on her phone on her way out of the room and realized that Fu Mingxuan had actually sent her a few messages after she had switched the phone off and gone to sleep.
A random thought popped in her head when she saw these few messages…
Don’t tell me… that senior likes me?
She strongly denied this possibility in the next moment, though.
That’s not possible!
Senior has a girl he likes, and he has liked her for over a decade. More importantly, he is that annoying fellow’s good friend, so whomever he likes, that person won’t be me…
With a heart full of confusion, the mother-daughter pair left their house for the temple.
As it was the first day of the year, a lot of people were at the temple to pray for luck.
In the crowded temple, the two were already sweating buckets by the time they finished praying with their joss sticks.
“Ge Ge, look. There’s a stall over there for fortune-telling. Let’s go draw a fortune stick.”
When the two came out of the temple, they saw an old monk under a Bodhi tree with a stall for fortune-telling.
“Ah? Forget it.”
As a person who did not believe in things like fortune-telling, she subconsciously tried to pull her mother away.
It could not be helped, though, that the latter was very interested in such stuff.
Hence, the poor her could only follow her mother over.
“Master, how should we draw a fortune stick?”
Zhang Manhua pulled her daughter close by the hand and said this to the old monk sitting under the Bodhi tree with a smile.
“Amitabha…” The old monk put his hands together and placed an old bamboo cup in front of them.
“Benefactor, please pick one randomly.”
“Pick one randomly? Don’t we have to think about the question we want to ask inside?” She did not expect it to be this simple.
“No need. Just keep your mind empty,” the old monk lightly replied.
“Ge Ge, hurry and pick one.”
Hence, under her mother’s urging, Pei Ge randomly picked one stick out.
“May I ask if benefactor is asking for marriage or career?” After receiving the fortune stick she had chosen, the old monk lowered his eyes slightly and inquired.
“… Marriage,” she replied hesitantly.
Hearing this, the old monk slowly nodded and placed the fortune stick back into the cup. He then picked up the brush pen on the table and wrote down a long string of small words on a small piece of rectangular paper.
“‘Both feel the same desolation upon separation, and every full moon, the sorrow of being unable to reunite multiplies’…” She could not stop herself from reading aloud the words the old monk was writing.
For some reason that she could not understand, after reading it aloud, she felt awful inside.
“What is this?” Her mother frowned when she heard what her daughter had read aloud.
“The words the benefactor has received,” the old monk replied, his hand pausing for a moment as he answered the question.
“What do they mean? It mentions desolation and sorrow. What is this?! It’s not accurate, not accurate! Ge Ge, let’s go!”
Zhang Manhua quickly dragged her away from the stall, as if wishing that she had never gone to this stall.
Seeing the two leave, the old monk put his palms together and softly repeated, “Amitabha…”
He lowered his head to look at the slip of paper he was not done writing on and raised his pen to flesh out everything.
[May your heart be like mine.]
Extreme good luck.