Chapter Eight: An Old Ox Grazes on Tender Grass

At the breakfast table, Lin Qingyuan glanced at Qin Luo, then at Lin Huanxi, covering his mouth and snickering foolishly. He even started singing Peking opera, which he hadn’t sung in years.

“Urge the king to drink wine and listen to Yu’s song, relieve his worries with a graceful dance. Win against Qin’s tyranny that shattered the land, heroes rise from every corner to arms. Since ancient times, the saying rings true, the fate of dynasties decided in an instant. Relax, drink wine in the tent, and await news from the front—”

Qin Luo knew what nonsense the old man was up to so early in the morning and didn’t bother responding. They had only just begun the treatment phase of her illness; there was no need for explanations yet.

The Yanjing-style pastries bought by the servants that morning were quite good, and Qin Luo focused on eating them. Lin Huanxi, however, couldn’t help herself. She cast a sidelong glance at Lin Qingyuan and said, “Grandfather, are you going to eat or not? You’re so off-key, how can anyone enjoy breakfast?”

Her tone was cold and distant, with not a hint of expression on her face. She was exactly as she had been before receiving Qin Luo’s treatment.

But Lin Qingyuan didn’t mind at all. Chuckling, he said, “Ha-ha, of course I’m eating. Isn’t that what I’m doing? Granddaughter, Qin Luo is new to Yanjing and is our honored guest. You should take him out today and show him around properly.”

“And don’t bother coming home for lunch. Qin Luo probably hasn’t tasted roast duck from Quanjude, right? Take him there. Qingyun Pavilion’s Snack City has Xiao Chang Chen and Bao Du Feng—those are worth trying too. If you don’t come home tonight, you can check those out. And isn’t that place called Sanlitun Bar Street famous? Why not go and enjoy the lively atmosphere?”

The old man’s intentions were clear: he wanted his granddaughter and Qin Luo to spend more time together outside, hopefully not returning that night, perhaps ending up at a hotel, completing all that can transpire between a man and a woman, and then tomorrow he’d send out wedding invitations to friends and family.

“I’m full. Let’s go.” Lin Huanxi set down her chopsticks and said to Qin Luo, unable to endure her grandfather’s eagerness to marry her off any longer.

“I’m not full yet,” Qin Luo replied, looking up as he worked through a bowl of fried liver, his mouth slick with oil.

“You can eat outside. Let’s go,” Lin Huanxi said, already pushing back her chair and standing up.

As Lin Huanxi went upstairs, Lin Qingyuan cheerfully patted Qin Luo on the shoulder. “Kid, you’ve got skills. I wasn’t as good as you when I was young.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Qin Luo said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He was starting to feel annoyed by the old man as well.

“Heh. Shy, are you? A grown man and thin-skinned? Don’t worry, I’ll support you with all I’ve got,” Lin Qingyuan said.

He had introduced many outstanding men to Lin Huanxi before, but she had never so much as glanced at them. She wouldn’t even go out for a meal, let alone shopping.

Yet today she had offered to accompany Qin Luo to buy clothes. It was a clear change.

So, Lin Qingyuan was convinced there was some ambiguous relationship between Lin Huanxi and Qin Luo—at the very least, his granddaughter didn’t dislike Qin Luo.

If she didn’t dislike him, there was hope.

As long as he kept the boy in Yanjing for a while, let them develop feelings over time. Young people have weak self-control; when passion comes, parents are forgotten. Once they’ve crossed that line, he’d go to Old Master Qin to propose marriage—or rather, have Old Master Qin come to his house to propose.

Ah, haha—

Lin Qingyuan was lost in his daydreams, not even noticing Qin Luo leaving the table and heading for the door.

Qin Luo had just reached the neighborhood entrance when a car horn sounded behind him.

Lin Huanxi drove up slowly in a champagne-colored BMW 7 Series. Her face was stunningly beautiful: willow brows, almond eyes, a delicate nose and cherry lips, cheeks flushed with translucent pink, long silky hair resting on her neck and shoulders, slender arms, rounded shoulders, and below—a full, alluring bust that made Qin Luo dizzy. He couldn’t see much further down.

Champagne, the color of sparkling wine, exuded luxury, temptation, and romance. Lin Huanxi, a woman in her prime, possessed a charm matured by experience, and her elegant demeanor was perfectly matched to the car’s hue.

Yet her gaze remained icy cold.

“Get in,” she said coolly as the BMW pulled up beside Qin Luo.

Qin Luo obediently opened the door and sat in the passenger seat next to Lin Huanxi.

He then noticed she wore a pale short skirt, her feet in cotton slippers, while a pair of gleaming silver high-heeled sandals, studded with tiny gems, were set aside—likely for convenience while driving.

Once Qin Luo closed the door, Lin Huanxi started the car again.

Aside from her brief “get in,” there was no further exchange between them.

They drove in silence all the way to the city center. The air inside the car felt thick enough to solidify.

Lin Huanxi was naturally cold and silent, and Qin Luo couldn’t think of any topic to break the ice.

“Do you always look at people like that?” Lin Huanxi suddenly asked, unable to tolerate Qin Luo’s gaze any longer.

He watched her calmly—not heated or indecent, but with a persistent intensity, as if admiring a work of art. For twenty minutes, as she drove, he hadn’t looked away once.

“Not always,” Qin Luo replied shyly, shaking his head. Anyone would feel awkward being called out so directly. “Just sometimes.”

“What kind of clothes are you buying?” Lin Huanxi asked.

“A long robe. The kind I wore when I arrived,” Qin Luo said.

“A long robe?” Lin Huanxi’s brows arched; she had no idea where to buy such attire and couldn’t understand why a young man would insist on wearing something so old-fashioned.

“Yes. It’s a family rule,” Qin Luo replied with a smile.

“A family rule? What is it?” Lin Huanxi knew Qin Luo was intentionally being vague, hoping she'd ask more. She tried to resist but couldn't.

“Study traditional medicine. Wear long robes. And—” Qin Luo looked at her, “marry a Chinese wife.”

“Strange rules,” Lin Huanxi remarked expressionlessly. Yet, for some reason, when he mentioned “marry a Chinese wife,” she felt a faint sweetness inside.

It wasn’t strong, but it was there—quietly nourishing, like dew.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t like foreign women,” Lin Huanxi reassured herself.

Unsure where to find the traditional clothing Qin Luo wanted, she parked in front of the famous New World Mall in Yanjing, intending to search store by store.

Though it wasn’t a holiday, not even a weekend, crowds surged at the mall entrance, cars streamed past. Stylish, sexy women passed by in small groups, making one wonder if all the beauties of Yanjing had gathered here.

Men appeared only occasionally—the gender ratio was clearly unbalanced. One couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the men, who were presumably in office buildings earning money for their wives’ shopping sprees.

“Follow me. Don’t get lost,” Lin Huanxi said.

“I was just worried about that. Maybe you should take my arm?” Qin Luo said with a smile.

Lin Huanxi glanced at him and strode ahead.

“I knew you wouldn’t agree,” Qin Luo shrugged indifferently, disappointed she didn’t appreciate his humor.

Shopping with a beautiful woman didn’t feel tiring, but the New World Mall was so vast that Qin Luo lost all sense of direction. If Lin Huanxi didn’t guide him, pausing now and then to wait, he really would have been swept away by the crowd.

Qin Luo’s sense of direction, it must be said, was rather poor.

“There, ahead,” Lin Huanxi pointed to a shop decorated in classic style.

“Splendid Heritage?” Qin Luo nodded. “Let’s take a look.”

At home, his clothes were custom-made by tailors; now, he wasn’t so particular—any shop would do.

As they entered, a pretty attendant in a cheongsam greeted them. “Please, take your time,” she said, and another brought fragrant tea.

“Help me pick a fitted long robe,” Qin Luo said, seeing Lin Huanxi wasn’t inclined to respond.

“Certainly. What color and style would you prefer? If it’s for you, I’d recommend our latest Splendid Chang’an design—eye-catching colors and fashionable style, perfect for a young gentleman.”

“I’ll have a look,” Qin Luo nodded.

It was a silver-gray long robe, unremarkable at first glance, but the longer you looked, the more its subdued luxury stood out. The material was soft, the waist tailored for a slim fit, the craftsmanship and detailed cutting very high-end.

When Qin Luo tried it on, the shop’s attendants all felt a sudden brightness.

“Miss, your boyfriend really suits long robes. He has such an elegant and handsome air,” the attendant attending to Lin Huanxi praised enviously.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Lin Huanxi replied, casting a glance at the attendant.

“Oh, sorry. Is he your brother? He’s so handsome. Your family genes are amazing.”

“He’s not my brother,” Lin Huanxi said.

“—” The attendant looked awkward, not knowing how to converse with this beautiful guest. Luckily, new customers entered, and she quickly excused herself.

“Sir, this robe suits you perfectly,” another attendant said to Qin Luo as she fastened the cloth buttons, her face full of admiration. She rarely saw a young man wear a long robe with such style.

“I think so too,” Qin Luo nodded, satisfied. “How much?”

“Sir, we’re having a promotion. After discount, it’s—one hundred and twenty thousand yuan.”

“What’s the discount?”

“Twelve percent off.”

“Not thirty-eight percent?”

“Uh—”

“I knew it wouldn’t be. Never mind, wrap it up for me,” Qin Luo said.

“Certainly. Will you pay cash or card?”

“Card,” Lin Huanxi said, taking a credit card from her purse.

“No need. I have my own money,” Qin Luo replied. His family had given him a card when he left, which he hadn’t used yet.

“Consider it medical expenses,” Lin Huanxi said, expressionless.

Seeing her insist, Qin Luo didn’t argue further.

As they stepped out with the purchased robe, a middle-aged man in a plaid shirt, arm around a beautiful woman, approached. Upon seeing Lin Huanxi, the man exclaimed in surprise, “Ms. Lin, you’re shopping too?”

“Yes,” Lin Huanxi replied coldly, her face full of disdain.

Qin Luo sighed quietly. It seemed her illness would require a long course of treatment.

“Ha, that’s rare. I thought Ms. Lin never shopped,” the man said, shifting his gaze to Qin Luo. “And this is?”

“A friend,” Lin Huanxi answered impatiently.

“A friend? Is he a student at our school?” The woman beside the plaid-shirted man, her lips curled in a sly smile, asked. She was delicate and charming, the classic girl-next-door type, but her words were sharp with arrogance and coldness.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Lin Huanxi shot her a look and was about to leave with Qin Luo.

“Ms. Lin is so aloof at school, doesn’t talk to anyone. I thought she was an untouchable fairy, but turns out she’s an old cow munching young grass, seducing her own student,” the woman remarked acidly behind them.