Life: A Black and White Film (一生一世，黑白影画)

Chapter 1.3 - They Meet Again in Nepal (3)

Wen Han practically leaped up out of her seat.

This man had noiselessly drawn near, and she and Agnesa had not detected it at all. She was afraid of him and wanted to avoid him. However, his frivolously harassing tone also very much carried a distinct Moscow flavour and was a very pleasant surprise to Agnesa, to the point that a favourable impression of him was immediately created. In particular, the one sentence that he had spoken in Russian when he approached them felt especially near and dear to her.

Because her friend was by her side, Wen Han could not let herself have any verbal conflict with him, but it was evident still that she very much had an aversion to him.

Cheng Muyan's manner, on the other hand, was very courteous and gracious, and his every movement and gesture wholly demonstrated the model example of a gentleman. Amid Wen Han's words and attitude that were intentionally trying to make things difficult for him, he still again and again passively conceded to her and, moreover, put on the pretense that they had merely by chance run into one another this afternoon in the laundry room. In a casual tone, he chatted with them. "The coffee in this inn is terrible, but I do know a shop here in Thamel that still sells coffee at night. Its food is quite good also."

"Oh?" Agnesa cupped her chin lightly in her hand and rested her elbow on the low bar table, accentuating even more the perfect curve in front of her chest. "Just how good is 'quite good'?"

"How good?" Cheng Muyun repeated her question in a light voice, the ending pitch of his last word trailing upward slightly. "This question that has no standard to judge against is very difficult to answer. At the very least, you won't taste the taste of India in it."

Most of Nepal's food and drink and dietary habits tended to imitate India's.

Their journey had taken them from India to here, so they had long since had enough of those spices that would show up at all times. When they heard him say this, they actually seemed to feel that all different sorts of rich, strong, biting scents of spices were once again beginning to waft about everywhere around them.

"Then let's go try it out," Agnesa said with a laugh.

"It's dangerous going out at this time of day," Wen Han reminded her softly.

Cheng Muyun's physique was not like the average ethnic Chinese. His height advantage that allowed him to look down on others was exhibited simply by sitting right where he was. Resting his arm on the back of the couch, he leaned back languidly, seeming through his whole posture and the cadence of his voice as if he would doze off at any time. This person was utterly able to carry himself as if he, alone, was a painting. For example, right this moment, he called up into people's minds the image of an antique stove of Russia, and in the entire open space, there was only his face on which the dancing light of the stove's flames was cast.

Perceiving Wen Han's somewhat loathing gaze on him, he glanced at her from beneath his eyelashes, which had remained lowered this entire time.

"To be of service to such beautiful ladies is my honour. If you two ladies do not mind, please wait a moment." He rose to his feet from the crimson couch. "I shall return with two cups of rich and fragrant and authentically local coffee."

After saying this, he gave a polite nod of his head and then left the bar area.

Accompanying his action of pushing open the door was once more the jingling of the bronze bell, a mysteriously pleasant sound that warmly saw this guest off.

"Wen Han." Through the glass of the door, Agnesa took a glance at Cheng Muyun's backside as she quietly complained about Wen Han's cool behaviour. "What's up with you? I've never seen such an interesting Chinese person before. He has my favourite colour of eyes, pure black. Did you notice? I've never seen a man with such long eyelashes and whose eyes could hold such a gorgeous look, like..." Agnesa wanted to describe it but found that she was lost for words. Unexpectedly, one of the spices that they had eaten in India popped up in her mind. "Like rosemary [bewitching, persistent fragrance]. Let me tell you, Wen Han, he just needs to look at me and then I'll feel my whole body getting hot."