Chapter 180: Good to look at, love to look at, send more

Xia Xi returned home, and to kill time during the vacation, she signed up for several online courses by famous teachers on the Internet, architecture-related.

On a two-meter-wide desk lay piles of drawings, triangles, rulers, pencils, and erasers; as she hunched over drawing, Xia Xuan came over to bring her fruit, lowered her head to glance at the neat, clean, straight lines on the paper, admiration in her eyes: "Take a break."

Xia Xi tossed aside the pencil in her hand, did a stretching motion, twisted her neck left and right, took the fork her sister handed her, and speared the watermelon in the glass bowl: "Didn't you go to the art class this afternoon?"

Xia Xuan didn't leave; she curled up in the lazy sofa in her sister's room reading manga: "Today I'm off."

Xia Xi nodded, picked up the phone on the desk, and, taking advantage of this break, messaged Xu Yanfeng: "What are you doing?"

She had been staying at home for over half a month, just as Xu Yanfeng had said before leaving; they kept in touch every day, occasionally video calling, but today was almost over and they still hadn't exchanged a single word.

One minute later, Xu Yanfeng replied: "Accompanying the elders at home for social engagements."

Xia Xi narrowed her eyes and imagined him: he must be dressed formally, in a dark suit and trousers, with a cuff revealing a ring of white shirt, a wristwatch of low-key style but expensive price, his every move elegant and steady, bearing an aura somewhere between youth and maturity.

She ate the sweet watermelon, sitting sideways on the chair with her legs dangling on the armrest, smirking, and made a random demand: "Take a picture of your hand and send it to me."

Xu Yanfeng didn't understand and sent a question mark.

Xia Xi gave specific instructions: "It's simple—raise your index finger slightly, curl the other fingers a bit, and snap a photo of your hand; that's it."

Xu Yanfeng still didn't get it, but since she had asked, he complied.

After a moment, the photo was sent to Xia Xi's phone, and she opened it to admire.

Xia Xuan's head leaned over from Xia Xi's shoulder, staring at the phone screen she held up, clicked her tongue, and said: "Where did you find this internet picture? It's even better than the close‑up of the male lead's hand in the manga I read."

Xia Xi startled, covered the phone with her chest, moved her legs down from the chair armrest, sat upright, and glared at her: "Who are you trying to scare to death?"

Xia Xuan chuckled, showed her the manga in her hand—one panel was a close‑up of the male lead's hand, with sharp, smooth lines, very slender and bony; compared to the photo on Xia Xi's phone, it was still a bit inferior.

Xia Xi tapped her sister's forehead with her index finger, gently pushing outward: "Go read your manga."

Xia Xuan covered her forehead, muttered "stingy," and shuffled back to the lazy sofa in her slippers.

Xia Xi lifted the phone pressing against her chest; a new message arrived, in which Xu Yanfeng asked her: "Tell me the truth—what are you up to?"

Xia Xi wouldn't tell him, because making that gesture would make the tendons and bones on the back of her hand stand out more, especially sexy and a bit suggestive. She gave a random reply: "I'm not up to anything; you can't even look at your hand, huh."

Xu Yanfeng suddenly guessed something, unsure if he was right: "Are you a hand fetishist?"

He even knew what a hand fetish was; Xia Xi puffed out a laugh, first glancing at Xia Xuan, who was almost buried in the sofa, the manga blocking her palm‑sized face, she looked engrossed, seemingly unaware of the commotion here. Feeling reassured, Xia Xi sent Xu Yanfeng a voice message, her voice low as if whispering in his ear: "I'm not a hand fetishist; I'm a Xu Yanfeng fetishist—I like every part of him."

Xu Yanfeng didn't reply.

Xia Xi grabbed a pillow to cover her face and giggled, wondering if he might be embarrassed.

She pulled the pillow down, held it in her arms, placed both hands on it, cradled the phone, and sent him another message: "Baby, send me a selfie—I want to see you."

Xu Yanfeng replied this time: "Wait till I get back and we'll video chat."

Xia Xi teased unreasonably: "I just want your photo—will you send it or not?"

Xu Yanfeng didn't reply again.

After a while, Xia Xi lost patience, put down the phone to resume drawing, then suddenly got a notification; she focused her gaze and saw it was a photo sent by Xu Yanfeng.

It wasn't a sullen selfie; it was taken facing the floor‑to‑ceiling window, outside which the lights of the high‑rise buildings spread out like glowing fish scales, the clear glass reflecting his silhouette—clean, sharp outline—showing he wore the suit and shirt she had imagined, with a neatly tied tie.

Xia Xi's heart pounded so fast her fingertips went numb as she typed: "Good to look at, love to look at, send more."

Xu Yanfeng sent a string of speechless ellipses, making her laugh repeatedly.

I miss him so much.

July 21, the sixth day of the sixth lunar month, an auspicious day for marriage; the Peishan Grand Hotel undertook a wedding banquet of considerable scale—the groom's side had booked over forty tables, and the whole hotel was in an uproar, staff scrambling everywhere.

Xia Xi went over to help.

Before, Su Jinru had asked her to work at the hotel as a joke, never intending to let her toil, but today they were truly swamped, so they called her in.

Xia Xi arrived just in time; a bridesmaid had to cancel last minute, the bride begged her to fill in, to make an even number for good luck.

It was no trouble; Xia Xi didn't decline, changed into the bride‑prepared smoke‑pink gauze dress, and joined the other bridesmaids for the entire ceremony.

After past two in the afternoon, the festivities finally ended; Xia Xi received a favor gift and a red envelope, completely exhausted, she hadn't even changed out of her clothes, sitting in the lobby with the hotel staff to eat the employee meal.

Though called an employee meal, it wasn't scraps; the ingredients were the surplus from the wedding banquet, freshly stir‑fried by the chef, steaming and fragrant. The employees gathered around a few tables, after work they relaxed, sipping a little drink while eating and chatting.

The weather was too hot; even with the air conditioner on, sweat still seeped from the neck, sticking to the fine soft hair, making one irritable. Xia Xi couldn't find a hair tie, so she grabbed a chopstick to twist her long hair up and buried her head in eating rice.

A forty‑year‑old staff auntie ladled her a spoonful of nourishing radish‑oxtail soup: "Eat a bit more, Xi Xi—you've been run ragged today, huh?"

Xia Xi's weary face broke into a smile, rice grains sticking to her lips as she took a bite: "I'm fine; you guys are busier. Aunt Lin, you eat too."

No sooner had she finished speaking than three people pushed the door in—one holding a microphone, one shouldering a camera, another carrying a toolbox. Xia Xi swallowed the food in her mouth, stood up, and explained to them that the hotel had been contracted out, temporarily not accepting guests, and they could come another day.

Who would have thought they'd conduct an on‑site interview.

Xia Xi never imagined that this clip would air on the local TV station and then spread online.

She was wearing a pink off‑shoulder bridesmaid dress, her hair held up with a chopstick, and as she sat by the table low‑headedly gnawing on oxtail, she was already on camera; later, when she accepted the interview, everything was broadcast intact, not a single frame cut.

"I've long heard that Qianlin produces beauties, and now I believe it."

"With such a serious report, why is everyone's focus all over the place? Where's the morality? Where's the bottom line? Where's the dignity? Where's the address? And where's the beauty's WeChat?"

"Peishan Grand Hotel, right? I'm here!"

"May I ask, if I'm eating in the shop, could you have this young lady order dishes for me?"

Xia Xi inexplicably went viral, and the Peishan Grand Hotel went viral with her. Previously only busy when hosting banquets—so busy she didn't touch the ground—now customers stream in daily, business booming.

Many out‑of‑town visitors, as soon as they enter, ask, "I heard you have a very pretty server here—where is she?"

The hotel staff think to themselves, "That's not a server; that's our second young lady."

Su Jinru heard that many customers were coming just for Xia Xi, everyone's attitude was friendly, and she didn't want people to make a wasted trip, so she let Xia Xi come help out at the hotel when she had nothing else to do. This time she meant it seriously—not a joke—and gave her a wage.

Xia Xi felt helpless, like a mascot planted in the lobby, smiling at passersby and saying "Welcome" and "Welcome back next time," occasionally showing someone the way or posing for a photo together.

Xu Yanfeng sent a screenshot of the video: "Is this you?"

Xia Xi clutched her head, "How did even he see this!"

She didn't want to talk about this; she'd already developed PTSD, so she forced a subject change: "I miss you so much—why hasn't school started yet?" Once school begins, she won't have to be a gorilla stared at in the hotel, and once school begins she'll be able to see Xu Yanfeng.

Xu Yanfeng stared at the text she had sent, dazed, exited WeChat, and checked his upcoming schedule.

After the vacation, he went to the Xu Clan Group headquarters every day to report. Xu Guanshan kept his word, giving him some real authority, and he began handling projects on his own, busier than before, with hardly any free time, but he still bought a high-speed rail ticket to Qianlin.

She said she missed him.

He also wanted to see her.