"What to do When the Pretty Woman I Kissed is My Best Friend's Professor" - Chapter 78

The two of them sat across from each other, eating a meal together. It was an ordinary, small matter, yet if both people held feelings for the other, this ordinary moment became something special.

Yan He restlessly rubbed the plate that the waiter had just placed down. The white, flower-edged plate held carefully prepared food, the arrangement beautiful. It felt slightly cool to the touch—the coolness of ceramic—but the room was warm, and soon that slight chill was replaced by the heat of her fingertips.

Why is it so hot? Yan He thought, regretting that she hadn’t asked the young waiter to turn the air conditioning down.

She looked at Shen Jinrong  across from her, watching as she gracefully raised her coffee cup and sipped the freshly served hot cappuccino, a small heart embedded in the dense milk foam.

Seeing this detail, a sense of rivalry was inexplicably roused in Yan He.

She tapped the table with her index knuckle, lowering her voice to say to Shen Jinrong, “Their latte art isn’t as pretty as mine.” Her tone was aggrieved, as if asking, Are you drinking someone else’s coffee because you don’t like mine anymore?

Although Shen Jinrong had come to expect Yan He’s occasional bouts of petty jealousy, she hadn’t anticipated this particular comment. She lowered her gaze to the ruined coffee art, thinking, Of course not. I’ve nearly finished it, and only now are you saying this.

She looked up at Yan He. The young woman was always cool and aloof, with a stubbornness hidden in her eyes. But now, her ear tips were flushed red, and she was glancing around evasively, a look of self-betrayal on her face.

Seeing Yan He’s bashful appearance, Shen Jinrong put down her coffee cup and nearly laughed aloud. She felt that ever since they started traveling together, she was discovering new things about her every day.

Traveling together was a kind of trial run. Shen Jinrong recalled a report she’d read earlier, which suggested that couples should travel alone together at least once before marriage to minimize friction arising from differing habits in daily life.

She hadn’t had a partner before, so she’d simply read it and moved on, but now she felt there was some truth to it.

Wait a minute—marriage?

That was too far off. Shen Jinrong took a deep breath and lowered her eyes. She had never had such a thought in her entire life. What is wrong with me today?

Yan He’s gaze was too direct, even a little fervent, and Shen Jinrong could not pretend not to notice. So, before speaking, she wanted to adjust her posture, and began to cross her legs. While performing this action, the tip of her shoe accidentally brushed against Yan He’s trousers.

—Shen Jinrong swore the action was unintentional—but when she settled her posture and looked up again, the fervor in Yan He’s eyes was deeper than before, like two bright flames, clearly broadcasting what she intended to do, as if afraid Shen Jinrong wouldn’t understand.

It was merely an ordinary, even accidental, touch—yet Yan He inexplicably thought of the night before when she had clasped her sister’s ankle. The heat from Shen Jinrong’s body had transferred precisely to her palm through the thin skin. Shen Jinrong was so slender that she could even feel the bone of her elder sister’s ankle faintly pressing against her hand.

Beneath that layer of flesh and skin was the vibrant life of the person she loved deeply.

Yan He lowered her eyes, picked up the nearby orange juice, and took a large gulp as if to cool herself down. The ice-cold juice traveled down from her mouth to her esophagus, but by the time it reached her stomach, it had warmed to a normal temperature. After drinking, she belatedly registered the acidic taste of the orange juice bursting on her tongue—a little sour, a little bitter, yet retaining a trace of lingering sweetness.

Yan He set down the cup, trying to catch Shen Jinrong’s eye, but the moment she looked up, Shen Jinrong lowered hers to eat her breakfast. Their gazes missed perfectly. Yan He wasn’t sure if it was coincidence or intentional. She pursed her lips and touched her own face.

The hand that had held the icy orange juice cup touched her burning face, causing her to shiver sharply.

Shen Jinrong saw her shudder and secretly smiled.

Enduring her elder sister’s concealed amusement, Yan He steeled herself and called over the young waiter, apologizing profusely and asking if he could please lower the air conditioning. The young waiter was briefly stunned. He looked at her, then at the secretly smiling Shen Jinrong, a knowing smile flashing in his eyes. Not only did he lower the air conditioning, but he also walked to the door and opened it.

The moment the waiter opened the door, the wind chime chimed again, crisp and pleasant, like a gentle breeze across the ear. After the door opened, a small draft of air blew in from the entrance, reached Yan He’s back, and slipped into her collar, making her shiver for real this time.

Yan He rubbed her face hard, trying to reduce the flush, but she knew that as long as Shen Jinrong sat across from her, it would be impossible for her to calm down.

The mischievous elder sister, seeing the younger one flustered and helpless, chuckled to herself, and once more, brushed Yan He’s leg with the tip of her shoe. Seeing the redness on Yan He’s face surge up again, even more intense than before, Shen Jinrong fought back her laughter, raised an eyebrow, and asked, “You’re not shy, are you?”

Yan He stiffened completely. Shy, of course she was shy, but such a thing couldn’t be directly admitted. The face-saving young woman blinked, subtly pulling her elbow closer to the table, and her elbow touched the nearby glass. The slight coolness calmed her down.

Yan He cleared her throat, trying to answer Shen Jinrong’s question in a composed manner, but she didn’t realize that her answer, delivered while blushing, lacked much persuasive power.

The blushing young woman said righteously, “No.”

The smile in Shen Jinrong’s eyes deepened. She knew Yan He was genuinely shy, but since the person involved wouldn’t admit it, she couldn’t break the pretense. Out of consideration for the younger woman’s pride, she merely nodded solemnly, smilingly saying, “Mhm, right, you’re not shy.”

Why does that sound even weirder than if she hadn’t admitted it?

After speaking, Shen Jinrong smiled at Yan He, raised her hand, beckoned the young waiter, and ordered another espresso.

The coffee arrived quickly. Yan He looked down at the map on her phone and asked, “Are we going to the Mouth of Truth later?”

Shen Jinrong picked up the small coffee cup and turned to look out the window. She slightly turned her face, and Yan He saw the beautiful tear mole at the outer corner of her left eye.

Shen Jinrong nodded, “Yes.” She smiled and asked, “Or are you planning to go to the Spanish Steps for ice cream?”

“We’ll keep that for later,” Yan He shrugged. “It’s probably not even open yet at this time.”

Yan He glanced down at the time on her phone again. It was not yet nine in the morning. Based on her understanding of Italians, most shops wouldn’t open until around ten a.m.

The streets were quiet. Some people carried large bags, clearly travelers hurrying on their way; others wore suits, seemingly working people heading to the office.

They sat there, observing others through the transparent glass, as if they were detached from the rest of the world.

Yan He didn’t know how to describe this feeling. She considered her descriptive abilities quite good, but now felt that no words could precisely articulate her current sensation. She just felt that, having left their original city with Shen Jinrong and sitting here, they were somehow out of step with the world, yet it also brought a strange sense of peace.

Elopement.

Yan He couldn’t remember how many times she had silently recited these two words in her heart. Every time she thought of them, she felt a small, secret joy and happiness. This kind of happiness could not be spoken aloud, and others couldn’t possibly understand it.

Yet she stubbornly believed that Shen Jinrong understood—only she and Shen Jinrong understood.

It only took twenty minutes to walk from the Trevi Fountain to the Mouth of Truth. They had plenty of time, and neither of them liked hurried travel, so instead of taking a bus or the subway, they simply walked hand-in-hand slowly toward the location.

Even though they had held hands many times, Yan He still felt her heart pound like a drum whenever her elder sister took her hand. Perhaps she didn’t even realize it herself, but when she looked at Shen Jinrong, her eyes were sparkling, as if she were looking at her entire constellation of stars.

Passing through the Via del Corso, Yan He saw a huge Christmas tree standing in the middle of Piazza Venezia. Behind it, the Monument to Vittorio Emanuele II, built of white marble, was strikingly visible. The two bronze statues at the very top, one on the left and one on the right, seemed to guard the equestrian bronze statue of Vittorio Emanuele II.

“He was the first King of unified Italy.” Although Shen Jinrong was not a history professor, she had done some research on the subject. “He died in 1878.”

Shen Jinrong said the last two words very softly. Yan He looked up across the road, carefully studying the massive bronze statue. The man wore a helmet and armor, rode a horse, and held his raised sword high. The warhorse reared, exuding a fierce, warlike spirit.

The crowds began to thicken here. Walking past the Theatre of Marcellus, they entered the portico of the Church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin and, at the far end, saw a massive marble disc next to a small black door. On the disc, two hollow eyes stared intently forward, and its mouth was wide open, seemingly waiting for someone to come and take the lie test.

The mouth seemed to have turned black and smooth from frequent touching. Yan He turned to look at Shen Jinrong and smiled, “Want to take the lie test?”

Shen Jinrong blinked, “What should I say?”

“Place your hand in the′Mouth of Truth,′silently repeat the name of your beloved seven times in your heart,and if your hand is not bitten off,it means your love is sincere.”

i Yan He silently recited this in her heart, but looked up at her sister, placed her hand inside the Mouth of Truth, and half-closed her eyes.

Shen Jinrong, Shen Jinrong, Shen Jinrong.

On the seventh repetition, Yan He did not withdraw her hand. Instead, she looked up, gazing into Shen Jinrong’s eyes.

Fifty years earlier, in 1953, the American reporter Joe Bradley put his hand into the Mouth of Truth in front of Princess Ann.ii Yan He stared fixedly at Shen Jinrong and slowly spoke, “Shen Jinrong, meeting you, I am very lucky.”

“The Mouth of Truth says this is not a lie.”

Yan He withdrew her hand.