Once she had walked far enough from campus, Vivian Wen pulled out her phone and called Simon Min back.
“Mr. Min, you really saved me just now! What I said earlier was just to fool my fiancé—he suddenly showed up at school looking for me. If you hadn’t called, I don’t know how I would’ve gotten away.”
Simon’s thin lips curved upward slightly.
“What do you want for dinner?” he asked, leaning back lazily against the leather seat, clearly amused by her explanation.
Vivian smiled as she walked. “It’s my treat. You can pick whatever you like.”
“Really?”
“Really. Don’t hold back.”
Half an hour later, Vivian arrived at the restaurant location Simon had sent her.
He was already waiting outside, dressed in a black shirt and matching trousers, his whole presence exuding a quiet, mysterious coolness.
After greeting each other, Simon courteously opened the door for her.
“After you.”
The moment Vivian stepped inside, she froze in awe.
Glistening crystal chandeliers cast dreamlike light across the hall.
Soft saxophone music flowed gently through the air.
The tables and chairs were styled in elegant Italian vintage, and waiters in tailcoats moved silently between tables, stopping to bow politely at each guest.
Vivian followed Simon nervously to a window booth.
Judging by the décor, she could already tell this place wasn’t cheap—but when she actually looked at the menu, she nearly choked on her breath.
“Mr. Min,” she said cautiously, glancing up at him, “are you sure we’re eating here?”
He looked at her with a calm, unreadable expression. “Why? Something wrong?”
Vivian rubbed her nose awkwardly. “It’s just… a bit too expensive.”
Simon raised an eyebrow, glancing at the menu in her hands.
“Didn’t you tell me to order whatever I wanted? Now you’re backing out?”
Vivian nearly buried her face in her hands.
She had said that—but she hadn’t expected him to choose this kind of restaurant!
Was it because she bought him clothes yesterday? Did he somehow think she was some kind of rich patroness with money to burn?
Simon watched her with quiet amusement.
Her flustered expression—biting her pink lower lip, eyes darting between the menu and his face, cheeks flushed—was strangely endearing.
Finally, he took pity on her.
“Relax,” he said smoothly. “I’ve got a coupon. Ninety percent off.”
“What?” Vivian blinked at him in disbelief.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Simon asked, half-smiling.
Vivian leaned in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
“Mr. Min, be honest… do you have, um, a lot of rich women trying to keep you?”
Otherwise, how else could he have such a coupon for a high-end restaurant like this?
A ninety percent discount!
Simon exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple.
Realizing she might have offended him, Vivian waved her hands in panic.
“Ah! I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to pry. Please don’t get mad. I won’t ask again.”
“No,” Simon replied faintly. Just one word. Calm and indifferent.
Seeing he wasn’t angry, Vivian let out a small breath of relief and turned back to the menu.
Since it was supposedly 90% off, she relaxed and ordered a few signature dishes.
Just as she handed the menu to the waiter, she caught a glimpse of someone familiar out of the corner of her eye.
Her hand froze.
Walking through the door was Bianca Fang, arm-in-arm with a middle-aged man Vivian instantly recognized—the Dean of their college, Arthur Yao.
Vivian’s seat was directly facing the entrance.
If they came closer, they would surely see her.
Thinking quickly, she crouched slightly and slid around the table—squeezing past Simon—to sit on the inside, half-hiding behind him with one hand over her face.
Simon glanced toward the door, immediately understanding.
Without a word, he shifted slightly, positioning his broad shoulders to shield her from view.
Bianca and the dean walked right past them, settling into the booth next to theirs.
Moments later, their food arrived.
Vivian silently picked at her plate, trying to focus on her meal—but the overly sweet tone of Bianca’s voice carried clearly from the next table.
“You have to help me,” Bianca cooed. “This year’s Outstanding Graduate Representative can’t go to Vivian Wen!”
Arthur Yao chuckled indulgently.
“Don’t worry. With me around, that title is guaranteed to be yours.”
“You’re the best!” Bianca giggled—and then, to Vivian’s disgust, leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek.
The dean slipped an arm around her waist.
“Then make sure you keep me company tonight,” he said in a low, suggestive tone.
“I’ll make sure all your wishes come true.”
“Oh, you’re so bad~” Bianca laughed, slapping his chest playfully.
Vivian’s chopsticks froze in midair.
No wonder she could never get first place for the national scholarship,no matter how hard she worked or how clean her record was.
It wasn’t about merit at all.
It was because Bianca Fang had the Dean wrapped around her finger.
Rage surged in her chest.
Her hand tightened around the chopsticks until her knuckles turned white—but she said nothing, her silence sharper than any words.