99: Want to share a table?

Winter in Jinling cuts to the bone with its damp cold.

The wind isn't as biting as a blade like in the north, but it feels like countless fine needles drilling into the seams of your bones through your collar and cuffs.

Lin Que huddled his neck, hands tucked in his down jacket pockets, wandering leisurely along the bluestone road of Old Gate East.

The farce back at Zijin Mountain Villa—a "new" event that was actually "old"—finally felt real as the cold wind poured into his collar.

Lin Que rubbed his stiff fingers. He hadn't felt it while holding the microphone, but now that the excitement had faded, his stomach felt hollow, like it was on fire.

Whatever Fang Zhenyun was, whatever mainstream literature was, right now, none of it was as life-saving as the scent of duck fat wafting from the alley ahead.

His phone in his pocket had been vibrating non-stop. Lin Que took it out and glanced at it; the screen was full of red notification dots.

He didn't rush to click on the bombardment of messages, but instead placed a video call home first.

The video connected quickly. Wang Xiulian's face instantly filled the screen, with the white wall at home covered in a "Fu" character as the background.

"Oh my, Son! Why are you calling at this hour? Didn't you say there was a meeting?"

Wang Xiulian's voice was full of surprise, yet tinged with caution, afraid of disturbing important business.

Lin Que turned the camera to pan around the ancient architecture and stood still against a wind-shielding wall: "Mom, the meeting is over, we're on a break. The leaders saw I performed well and specially approved me to come out for some sightseeing and to grab something good to eat."

"As long as you performed well, that's all that matters!" Wang Xiulian's eyes crinkled into slits as she smiled, turning to shout into the house.

"Old Lin! Come quick! It's a video call from our son!"

With a sound of slippers shuffling, Lin Jianguo's stern face squeezed into the corner of the screen, still holding half an unpeeled apple.

He adjusted his reading glasses and scrutinized Lin Que on the screen: "How is it? Kid, you didn't embarrass yourself at such a big event, did you? You need to listen to the seniors' teachings, you hear me?"

Lin Que grinned at the camera, showing a mouthful of white teeth: "Dad, don't worry. I was extremely respectful to my teachers today. I said exactly what the seniors wanted me to say. Editor-in-Chief Fang even let me go rest when he saw I was tired, saying I was a rare, honest child. He was so moved his face turned blue... cough, I mean, turned red!"

"That's good, that's good." Lin Jianguo breathed a sigh of relief, took a bite of his apple, and instructed indistinctly.

"They are big Editor-in-Chiefs, they have a good eye for people. You are usually too mischievous, but being able to keep your cool on a serious occasion shows you've grown up."

If Lin Jianguo knew that the "keeping your cool" he spoke of referred to throwing his name tag in front of the entire provincial expert panel, that bite of apple would probably get stuck in his throat.

"Oh right, Little Que." Wang Xiulian brought the topic back.

"Why do you look like you've lost weight again?"

"Mom, I've only been here two days!" Lin Que sniffled, his nose red from the cold wind.

"I won't talk to you anymore, I'll bring you some salted duck when I get back."

"Alright, alright, go take a walk, stay safe!"

Hanging up the video, Lin Que breathed out a puff of white air. The smile on his face faded slightly, and his eyes returned to their usual nonchalant clarity.

Having placated the two Great Masters at home, it was time to deal with the mess. He opened Penguin; the message bar for Hong Guo Net had already exploded.

His editor, Green Vine, had sent at least twenty voice messages, the last few filled with exclamation marks.

【Green Vine: Great Master! That recording of yours was amazing! The internet is full of discussions about this!】

【Green Vine: Just now, boss Hong Hu sent out red envelopes in the group, saying this battle of yours was beautiful! You slapped Fang Zhenyun right in the face!】

【Green Vine: But... I also heard there was a situation at the scene? A student representative wrecked the venue? Great Master, do you know who this person is? Too fierce!】

Lin Que tapped his fingers on the screen casually.

【Hell Dream Weaver: Don't know. Probably oppressed for too long; after all, even a rabbit will bite when pushed to the limit.】

【Green Vine: The boss said we have firmly established our foothold this time. In the future, whoever dares to call web literature vulgar, we'll throw this recording in their face!】

Lin Que curled his lips. Hong Hu was a smart person; he knew how to turn public opinion into traffic.

He switched to his email.

【Wang De'an: Mr. Jian Shen, the letter has been delivered. Although Fang Zhenyun tried his best to hide it, the look of having been thwarted yet unable to act out was truly satisfying. Chairman Gu spoke very highly of your line, 'On the high platform, it is hard to know the temperature of the water.'】

【Wang De'an: After this battle, the status of the ferryman is firmly established. Sir, this move of advancing by retreating is brilliant.】

Lin Que replied:

【Jian Shen: Fang-jun is also a man of decency; a little hint is enough. Literary disputes ultimately have to return to the text. Thank you for your hard work, Editor-in-Chief Wang.】

Lin Que stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

The play had reached the point where the curtain should fall. Fang Zhenyun had wanted to catch them all in one net, but the net had broken, the fish had escaped, and he had even dragged the fisherman into the water. This deal was worth it!

It was mealtime, and the snack street in Old Gate East was bustling. Lin Que navigated familiar paths into a secluded alley. At the end stood an inconspicuous little shop, its sign blackened by oil smoke, with only the words "Xu's Old Duck Soup" faintly visible.

He had discovered this place by accident during a business trip to Jinling in his previous life. The taste was authentic, but because of its remote location, only true foodies knew about it.

Pushing aside the heavy cotton door curtain, a rich aroma of duck fat mixed with the dry heat of chili hit his face, instantly dispelling the chill on his body.

The shop wasn't big, containing only five or six square tables, which were already full. Most of the diners were buried in their food, the sound of slurping vermicelli constant.

Lin Que scanned the room, his brow slightly furrowed. No seats.

Just as he was planning to get takeout, a table in the corner caught his attention. Only one person was sitting there.

The reason he noticed at a glance was that this person was fully armed even indoors. She wore an off-white knitted hat with the brim pulled very low, and a thick scarf wrapped around her neck, burying almost her entire face, leaving only a pair of eyes staring blankly at the empty tabletop in front of her.

The coat she wore was exquisite; the tailoring and fabric looked expensive, completely out of place in this run-down shop where people ate vermicelli with garlic.

Lin Que didn't think much of it and walked straight over.

"Mind if I share the table?"

The girl flinched like a startled cat, her shoulders jerking, and she quickly lowered her head, mumbling an "Mm."

Lin Que didn't mind, pulling out the bench opposite and sitting down. Bored, he pulled out a pair of disposable chopsticks and toyed with them, his eyes inadvertently sweeping over the person opposite.

Although the girl was bundled up tightly, the hands exposed were beautiful. Her fingers were slender and fair, her nails neatly trimmed and rounded, with a healthy pink tint at the tips. Right now, those hands were nervously twisting the hem of her coat, as if hiding something.

Moreover, the bag placed next to her, while lacking any obvious logo, had a leather texture and metal hardware luster that Lin Que had seen on a similar model at a dinner party with an A-list actress in his past life.

A rich girl running away from home? Or a small celebrity hiding from the paparazzi?

Lin Que flashed through a few thoughts, then he laughed at himself. This was his professional habit kicking in; he wanted to write a story for everyone he saw.

"Soup's here—"

The boss emerged from the back kitchen carrying a tray with two large, steaming bowls of duck blood vermicelli soup, floating with bright red chili oil, bright green chopped green onions (no cilantro), and a generous amount of duck giblets. On a small plate on the side, four golden, crispy flatbreads were stacked neatly.

"You two, this is yours."

The boss placed the two identical bowls in front of them, then pushed the plate of flatbreads to the center of the table.

"Eh? Boss, I ordered two flatbreads." Lin Que pointed to the plate.

"That's right, you ordered two, and this young lady also ordered two. They came out of the same pot, so I put them together." The boss wiped his hands and said happily. "I see you two have similar tastes; neither wants cilantro, both want extra spicy, even the added ingredients are the same."

Lin Que was stunned.

These days, people who don't want cilantro in their duck blood vermicelli soup are rare enough, but wanting it extra spicy is even rarer.

He subconsciously looked across.

At the same time, the girl opposite happened to look up. Because she needed to eat, she had to pull the scarf down a bit, revealing a fair and delicate little face.

Perhaps flushed by the heat in the shop, her cheeks had a hint of crimson, and fine beads of sweat dotted the tip of her nose.

Their eyes met.

The air seemed to freeze for a second.

The chopsticks in Lin Que's hand stopped.

This face, these eyes...

Memory instantly rewound.

The girl in the secluded alley of the Confucius Temple, wearing a performance costume and sneaking a bite of plum blossom cake.

The genius girl who won the piano competition in the photo, known as the "Lost Pearl of Jinling."

Clearly, the other person recognized him too.

That pair of eyes, previously somewhat panicked, widened instantly, her pupils reflecting Lin Que's slightly stunned face.

They spoke at the same time, their voices colliding.

"Lin Que?!"

"plum blossom cake!?"