"What to do When the Pretty Woman I Kissed is My Best Friend's Professor" - Chapter 3

Her blood seemed to be instantly drained away, and her thoughts followed the woman’s movements, gracefully moving with her. The thin mist that separated them had been withdrawn, as if blown away by an invisible wind. This wind arrived strangely, yet perfectly.

Yan He saw the hem of the woman’s gray overcoat sway with the rhythm of her steps, saw the barely perceptible beauty mark at the corner of the woman’s eye, saw the woman’s slightly pursed thin lips, and saw the woman walk toward her step by step.

Her breath felt seized. In this instant—just this brief, fleeting moment—Yan He suddenly had a strange, unreal feeling: Could it be that, at this moment, the woman before me can pause briefly for me? Can I briefly possess her? Even if only for the blink of an eye?

This feeling was both certain and humble. Yan He was certain the woman was walking in her direction, yet she knew clearly that the woman was not walking for her—she might not even remember her.

This realization cooled the heat in Yan He’s heart. This was something she had always been unwilling to think about yet had to admit: she knew she was merely being presumptuous.

The woman walked near her, the woman walked past her, and the woman smiled as she greeted the young bartender: “Guten Abend (Good evening)!”

Then, Yan He heard the woman say something to the young bartender.

Her voice rang out beside her—yet it seemed to be separated by a thousand mountains and valleys. Yan He couldn’t hear it clearly. This feeling was like someone manually muting the sound near her ear, intentionally preventing her from hearing the woman’s voice. Her voice was faint and indistinct, no different from the voice she had heard a few hours ago. The only difference was probably that the woman was now speaking a language she didn’t understand.

Yan He lowered her head. She saw the woman’s ankle, saw her wearing silver high heels, the heel of the shoe featuring an exquisite cutout design. Yan He quickly moved her gaze away, trying to refocus her attention on the glass in front of her, trying to keep her heart from beating so fast, trying to keep her breathing from being so hurried—otherwise, she would give herself away.

She hadn’t yet decided whether to strike up a conversation.

Will it seem too eager? Will it seem too abrupt?

Yan He licked her lips.

“Is that you?” Before Yan He could decide, the woman’s gaze shifted, and she spoke first in surprise. Her voice was as gentle as ever, but tinged with a slight astonishment. It was this weak, perfectly moderate surprise that made Yan He’s own nervousness and eagerness seem less abrupt.

—Yan He’s overly eager gaze couldn’t be entirely blamed, as she was sitting right next to the bar counter, and the woman could see her with a simple turn of the head.

“We meet again,” Yan He said, forcing the words out.

The woman laughed. After greeting the young bartender, she leaned against the bar and started chatting with Yan He. There were a few scattered high stools at the bar. The woman didn’t sit down but propped herself against the bar, resting one hand on her head, looking at Yan He with a smile.

Yan He could see the moisture in her eyes and the faint blush on her cheeks visible under the dim light.

“What a coincidence,” the woman smiled, and Yan He’s gaze fell on the beauty mark at the corner of her eye.

The lighting in the bar had somehow become more ambiguous. Yan He had the illusion that although the lighting was the same, it seemed to be a different color before and after meeting the woman. The light after meeting her was dimmer, as if the main light source didn’t come from the overhead lights but from the small, scented candles placed on each table.

Yan He met her gaze and then heard the woman’s voice again, still teasing: “Am I pretty?”

So she’s asking if I think she’s pretty?

Yan He didn’t hesitate, nodding: “Pretty.” Many words of praise for the woman before her welled up in her heart, but she only felt her ears quietly flush.

Seeing Yan He’s frank admission, the woman was slightly taken aback. She then leaned closer to Yan He, as if worried that her next words wouldn’t reach Yan He’s ears: “Want to sit together?”

Her smiling, breathy voice sounded in Yan He’s ear, warm and moist. The exhaled breath swirled near her ear, drifting into Yan He’s mind. But she quickly pulled away, looking at Yan He with a smiling gaze from half a meter away, as if their proximity just now was only a momentary illusion.

Wen Yuan watched with wide eyes as Shen Jinrong brought a girl back to the group.

“We were sitting together when we watched the opera just now,” Shen Jinrong briefly explained her acquaintance with Yan He in a few words. She slightly raised her eyebrow, and her fingertip dropped, seemingly grasping Yan He’s hand resting on her thigh as if by accident.

Her hand gently rested on the back of Yan He’s hand, gracefully and lightly, like it was intentionally designed yet completely unintentional. Her hand was slightly cool; the temperature of her fingertips was lower than her palm.

Yan He, however, felt a spark ignite where she was touched. This flame initially appeared minuscule, without the potential for a prairie fire, but accompanied by Shen Jinrong’s flowing gaze and those eyes that still gleamed under the small, scented candle flame, Yan He suddenly felt parched.

She covertly reached out her other hand and picked up her Mojito, taking a large gulp as if to quench her thirst.

“Hello,” Wen Yuan sat opposite the two, looking at the pair sitting side-by-side, a strange feeling suddenly surging in her heart—it seemed these two looked very well-matched.

Shen Jinrong’s beauty was self-evident, but Yan He, sitting beside her, was cool and reserved, looking somewhat constrained, like Shen Jinrong’s opposite extreme. The girl didn’t look very old. Her hair was neatly tied back, her eyes were bright, her nose bridge high, and her lips were slightly pursed, seemingly always carrying a hint of a smile. A sharpness unique to youth seemed to be plated on her brow. The corners of the girl’s eyes curved slightly upwards, and perhaps due to the alcohol, her eye corners were flushed red. The faint redness gave her smile a hint of youthful seductiveness.

Not to mention the young girl’s eyes kept darting towards Shen Jinrong.

She’s a pretty young girl.

But… it’s really strange.

Wen Yuan thought, Why do I feel these two completely different types of women are extremely similar in some way?

“Hello,” Yan He tensed up, but she feigned composure and greeted Wen Yuan.

Wen Yuan smiled kindly at her, then spoke to Shen Jinrong about the remaining arrangements: “I haven’t finished my things here, so I’ll probably be back a little later.”

Shen Jinrong nodded, then turned and blinked reassuringly at Yan He, before saying to Wen Yuan: “Alright, I’ll pick you up then.”

Wen Yuan felt she was quite bright, sitting across from the two. She couldn’t help but feel the ambiguous atmosphere. She was restless and finally stood up, saying to the pair: “I’m going to pay the bill and head back to the room first.” She smiled at them again, then left.

The nervousness that Yan He had somewhat calmed intensified with Wen Yuan’s departure, becoming even stronger than before.

Shen Jinrong was amused by her constrained appearance. Yan He looked too much like a large Golden Retriever with its head bowed. She laughed, couldn’t resist reaching out to stroke Yan He’s head, and said softly, “Why are you nervous?”

Yan He felt dizzy. The alcohol content of the Mojito wasn’t actually high, but she got sleepy easily after drinking, and her brain would crash for a while. The words she spoke now weren’t passing through her mind. A large part of why she was sitting there obediently earlier was because she was tired.

A sleepy little Yan yawned, looking at Shen Jinrong softly, her eyes glistening with moisture.

Shen Jinrong gazed at her steadily, suddenly feeling a tremor in her heart.

Soft, certain, trusting, a look of reliance like a small animal—this pair of eyes made Shen Jinrong stare intently. After a long moment, she moved her gaze away.

Little girl.

Shen Jinrong murmured inwardly.

She intended to stand up and escort the little girl back to her room. Just as she stood up, she was pulled back by the little girl’s hand.

Yan He’s voice was soft and gentle, her eyes full of trust: “Jiejie (Elder Sister).”

Shen Jinrong’s hand trembled.

“…Jiejie.” Yan He looked at her intently. The nervousness in her eyes from when she was clear-headed had now disappeared. “Jiejie.”

She called out again.

Shen Jinrong sat down beside her again, soothingly stroking her head. “Good girl. Where is your room? I’ll walk you back.”

Yan He felt the room card in her pocket, but said, feigning innocence, “I don’t know.” She looked wronged as she gazed at Shen Jinrong.

Ten minutes later, Shen Jinrong was watching the large dog-like girl sitting obediently on her bed and silently pouting, while she rubbed her temples in a headache.