013: The Beauty's Scheme_1

I'm waiting to win now!

Miss Watson rubbed her fingers, waiting to draw a tile. It was soon her turn, but upon drawing, it wasn't the one she needed. She discarded it before asking the caller, "What did you just say?"

"Give me Rae Bennett's number."

He spoke faster than usual.

"Wait for me." Miss Watson opened her contacts list. The spelling for the surname "Shang" was towards the bottom, so she scrolled down to find it.

Just then, the next player discarded a tile.

Miss Watson glanced over quickly: "Why didn't you call out your discard? What did you just play?"

The next player was Hannah: "Six Bamboo."

Miss Watson swiftly pushed her tiles forward. "I've won with Six Bamboo!" She picked up the Six Bamboo and slotted it between the Five Bamboo and the Seven Bamboo. The thrilling moment had arrived, "All of one suit!"

Miss Watson's luck was exploding today. It hadn't been an hour since she sat down at the mahjong table, and this was already her third All of One Suit win—a self-drawn win and two supplied by Hannah.

Hannah grumbled restlessly that she hadn't consulted the Yellow Calendar today.

"Mom," Wyatt was urging her, "Play later, just send me the number now."

"Oh, okay." Miss Watson found the number and sent it over, "How come you don't have Rae's number? Aren't you two—"

The call ended.

He actually hung up!

Miss Watson was shocked, "My Wyatt actually hung up on me!"

Hannah asked if something happened.

Miss Watson usually praised Wyatt to the skies, saying he was patient, had manners, was polite and extraordinarily filial—it was as if God had gifted her with her eldest darling.

And this eldest darling had hung up on Miss Watson.

But Miss Watson wasn't angry at all. In fact, she was quite delighted. "Wow, got a wife and forgot his mom, that's just wonderful!"

Important to note, the emphasis of her sentiment wasn't on "forgot his mom," but on "got a wife."

Hannah and the other two card players "..." didn't quite understand where Miss Watson's excitement was coming from.

However, the card players could understand Miss Watson's urgency. After all, from the age of nineteen until now, except for Simba, there hadn't been anyone significant in Wyatt's life. It was only natural for Miss Watson to be anxious; no mother doesn't worry about her son's marital status, especially his sexual orientation.

As for before he was nineteen, that was something no one knew. Miss Watson's eldest darling only came to Star Delight Mansion at the age of nineteen.

*****

Wyatt Wright checked the number Miss Watson had given. He hadn't gotten it wrong, the number he had dialed before was correct, and he redialed it.

This time, it went through.

"Hello, hi."

Suddenly, the rain started pouring down, pattering aggressively.

Wyatt Wright opened his umbrella, walking on a street void of pedestrians. "It's me."

The rain was noisy, but he heard her clearly, Rae's voice bubbling with excitement over the phone. "You know my number?" she even sounded a tad smug.

Wyatt Wright didn't respond to her question, his voice tinged with the sudden chill of the autumn rain. "Why didn't you answer your phone just now?"

The old street's surface was uneven, and rainwater quickly accumulated in puddles. His white shoes splashed through the pools, hurrying along and dirtying the shoe tops.

Shielding himself with a black umbrella, he wove through the streets. Droplets of rain slid off the ribs of the umbrella, splattering against the ground and casting faint patterns on the hem of his clothes.

"I forgot to change my ringtone and didn't hear it." She spoke like a child admitting to a mistake, apologetically, "Sorry for troubling you."

Wyatt Wright raised his umbrella higher, passing by a row of locust trees along the street, scanning down the road. "Where are you?"

"On East Sullia Road, in front of a coffee shop." She said. "There's a super big cake model at the door of that shop."

Wyatt Wright knew that shop. He turned into a side street, speeding up, "Are you wet from the rain?"

"No."

"Wait there."

He ended the call.

Rae Bennett stared at her phone screen which displayed the caller ID: Beautiful Wayne.

Rae had someone look up his information; she wasn't lacking his number, but rather an opportunity to call it openly and legitimately.

She stood back under the Eaves, quietly waiting.

Rain drummed the Eaves, pouring down in beads - large and small, shattering the city's reflection in the water puddles on the ground.

When the wind ceased, her Beautiful Wayne arrived.

On the deserted street, only he, holding an umbrella, his tall figure, and large umbrella, tore a hole through the mist, filling it with his shadow.

"Wyatt Wright," Rae called out to him, waving her hands, her smile bright, "I'm here!"

His gaze crossed over to her.

She immediately dashed out of the rain curtain.

"Stay there, don't move."

"Oh."

She obediently stepped back, looking on eagerly, waiting for him to come over and take cover.

The rain was too heavy, even if it sheltered just one person, the hem of the clothes would still get wet.

Wyatt made his way under the eaves, shaking off the rainwater from the hem of his jacket. He closed the umbrella, "What are you doing here?"

Rae held up the bag in her hand, "Buying desserts."

"You should have let me know first."

His tone wasn't any different, the same as usual—low, even, and gentle.

But Rae sensed anger in his voice.

She, too, lost her confidence, and said in a very soft voice, "You never gave me your number."

He didn't respond, looking out at the rain instead.

Rae moved a step closer to him, "Your clothes are wet."

Now that she was closer, the rainwater splashed from the umbrella onto her shoes.

Wyatt moved closer to the wall, switching the umbrella to his other hand, "The rain is too heavy, let's wait for it to stop before going back."

The rain was heavy, the sky oppressively dark, and the air misty.

She realized that rainy days suited him well. The hazy, lingering mist and his bold, profound contour struck a vivid contrast, like the brightest winter plum blooming in a monochrome ink painting, adding color with its proud presence.

Different from his nineteen-year-old self, the him at nineteen resembled the scorching sun, like a gust of wind sweeping through a hall, wild and free.

He was tall, Rae had to lift her head at 1.68 meters to look at him, "Wyatt, are you cold?"

He shook his head.

"Are your hands sore?"

He didn't reply, instead, staring at a puddle in a trance.

Rae asked again, "Do you want me to hold the umbrella for you?"

He turned his head, his pupils veiling a layer of mist, his reflection unclear, "Take care of yourself."

What he meant was, mind your own business.

He really was so naughty.

Rae frowned in distress.

She loved to look attractive, caring only for style and not the temperature when going out. Her clothes were very thin—a T-shirt with short sleeves, her coat left in the car, and her fairy dress did little to keep out the cold. The wind whooshed into the fluffy layers of tulle as she hugged her arms, shivering slightly.

"Go wait inside the shop."

Wyatt went in first.

Rae pressed her lips into a smile and followed him inside.

Several tables of guests were taking refuge from the rain in the shop, a gentle piano piece playing through the speakers, the aroma of sweets and coffee delicately intertwining.

Wyatt placed the umbrella on a stand near the entrance; he went to the cash register to order.

"Two cups of hot chocolate."

There were two young girls at the cash register. One pretended to be busy, glancing up from time to time, while the other took orders from customers in an organized manner.

Right, the composed one was quite attractive, definitely a beauty.

"That's sixty-eight," the beauty asked, "Sir, will you pay with Whatsapp or...?"

Wyatt placed a bank card on the counter, "Card."

The beauty glanced discreetly at Rae following Wyatt, then composedly processed the payment.

After the transaction, the beauty handed over the card and receipt, "Your card." She handed it over together with the tray.

He took it, "Thank you."

They chose a spot near the window to sit.

The cashier who had pretended to be busy finally stopped, excitedly tugging at her beautiful colleague's sleeve, "Did you see? Did you see?"

The beauty prided herself, determined not to seem inexperienced, "I'm not blind."

"Amazing."

Indeed, amazing. The face, the Adam's apple, and the legs.

Within five minutes, the pickup indicator lit up.

Wyatt came to the counter, his hair still damp at the forehead.

The beauty placed two cups of hot chocolate on a tray, sliding it towards him.

He voiced his thanks politely.

The beauty added a towel to the tray, "You're welcome."

A white tissue peeked from beneath the towel.

Some women, like the beauty at the cash register, have a rebellious streak, the more refined the man appeared, the more they wanted to pull him down from his pedestal, to taint him with the dust of the world.