It had been years since they last met, with no contact since their final encounter. The relationship had become so thin that Wen Yifan had almost forgotten this person’s existence.
But she still remembered.
Their last conversation hadn’t been pleasant.
It wasn’t the kind of relationship where he would come over to comfort and help her when seeing her in a disheveled state.
Wen Yifan’s first reaction was:
He must have mistaken her for someone else.
But another thought floated into her mind.
It was also possible that over the years, Sang Yan had matured and become more broad-minded. He might have long since put past events behind him, letting bygones be bygones, and was just being polite upon seeing an old classmate.
Wen Yifan pulled herself back to the present and handed him the jacket, her eyes filled with confusion and inquiry.
Sang Yan didn’t take it, his gaze passing over her hand. Then, he said flatly, “I’m the owner of this bar.”
Wen Yifan’s hand froze in mid-air, her reaction somewhat slow.
For a moment, she wasn’t quite sure.
Was he introducing himself;
Or was he bragging about how well he was doing now, having achieved success at such a young age and become a boss?
In this situation, she found herself distracted, recalling Zhong Siqiao’s words.
— “The owner of this bar is said to be the top host of Degenerate Street.”
Her gaze couldn’t help but sweep over his face a few more times.
Dark hair, handsome eyebrows, pupils of pure black, appearing even colder in this light.
The rebelliousness of his youth had faded, his once immature features were now sharp and clean-cut. Tall and slender, even his all-black attire couldn’t conceal his arrogance and pride, exuding an air of willfulness and nobility.
To call him the top host.
It seemed, indeed, well-deserved.
Sang Yan slowly uttered two more words, pulling her back to reality.
“Surname Sang.”
“…”
Was he telling her his surname?
So, he hadn’t recognized her and was just introducing himself.
Wen Yifan understood the situation and calmly asked, “Is there something you need?”
“I apologize. Due to our mistake, we’ve caused you trouble and inconvenience,” Sang Yan said. “If you have any requests, please let me know. Also, all your expenses in the bar tonight will be on the house. I hope this won’t affect your good mood.”
He used “you” in a formal manner, but Wen Yifan didn’t hear much respect in his tone.
His manner of speaking was still the same as before. It sounded perfunctory, lazy, cold, and somewhat irritating.
Wen Yifan shook her head and politely said, “That’s not necessary. It’s fine.”
Hearing this, Sang Yan’s expression relaxed, as if he had breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps thinking she was easy to deal with, his tone softened a bit as he nodded, “Then, if you’ll excuse me.”
With that, he turned away and started to leave.
Wen Yifan was still holding his jacket and instinctively called out, “Sang—”
Sang Yan turned back.
As their eyes met, she suddenly realized that they were now strangers, and the “Yan” got stuck in her throat.
Her mind went blank, and Wen Yifan didn’t know how to address him.
The atmosphere became awkwardly silent. In her flustered state, the blank was filled with the content of her earlier wandering thoughts, and two words surfaced. Staring at his face, she belatedly added, “—Top Host.”
“…”
Their eyes met.
The world fell silent once again.
In this nearly frozen moment, Wen Yifan thought she saw his brow twitch almost imperceptibly.
“…”
Huh?
What did she just say?
Sang Top Host.
Sang… Top… Host.
Oh.
Sang…
Oh shit.