How should one properly squander a weekend without any money?
Turns out the commercial district was the perfect destination—celebrity gossip and public drama didn't cost a dime!
A girl shouted, "I just want you to understand me! Is that so hard?!"
The guy fired back, "Is it so wrong that I don't understand you and that makes you sad?"
The girl exploded, "You don't even understand that I'm sad?!"
Oh my god, are they seriously stuck in a loop? It's the same lines, just different fonts! I physically cannot with you two right now—get a scriptwriter or get out!
Vivienne's head nearly short-circuited from the dizzying loop.
Her eyes scanned a display of white bunnies and yellow ducks, studying the plushies with a gravity like a general inspecting their troops.
Vivienne had no intention of buying any stuffed animals, so she didn't pick one up.
But…
Free drama? Yes, please.
With her back to the arguing couple, she slowly sidled closer, pretending to browse the merchandise while subtly eavesdropping.
"You seriously need to stop being so unreasonable!"
Something he said must've triggered a forbidden phrase, because the girl screeched, "Unreasonable?! When you were chasing me, you said I could be as unreasonable as I wanted and you'd still coax me!"
"It's barely been three months, and now your true colors are showing!"
The guy shouted back, "Lady! I'm human too!"
"Do you really have to make a scene wherever we go?" he snapped. "Don't you feel embarrassed?"
Vivienne quietly mourned: even they have someone. Maybe being single really is a matter of fate.
"Well, you sure didn't mind embarrassment when you begged me to ** with you!"
Okay, wow. The girl wasn't pulling any punches.
Vivienne tiptoed over to the next display of fancy hats, mentally declaring, Perfect match. You two are locked in for life.
The guy turned green and took a deep breath. "You're gonna regret this. Don't come crying back to me later."
"Regret? Dream on!" the girl spat, eyes scanning around, then abruptly pointed to the black-haired stranger who happened to be standing nearby. "I'd rather marry roast pork and become a lesbian than ever take you back!"
…
Human nature is a sucker for spectacle. More and more passersby gathered to gawk.
The mall's control center had to issue orders for the on-site guards to step in and maintain order.
Vivienne watched as the two security guards—who had been spectating by the vending machine, snacking on drama with amused grins—suddenly straightened up, expressions turning serious. They marched over, batons in hand, stepping in to separate the quarreling couple and calm things down.
The crowd dispersed.
The poor soul who had been circling for gossip like a bug in a maze was finally free.
Westley's gaze finally moved away from the window. He turned his head slightly, seeming at last to show a flicker of interest in the saleswoman's long-winded pitch.
The sales assistant rolled her eyes inwardly: Wow. Heard me loud and clear, did you, young master? A royal nod — how generous.
"These two scents, 'Phantom' and 'Whispers of the Moon,' are both recent masterpieces by Master Fehrde…"
"Sounds good," Westley said casually, checking the time on his terminal before standing up from the couch. "Wrap up everything you just mentioned."
"All of them... Right away!" the salesperson managed to keep her cool, but she was screaming with joy inside—five bottles, all premium-priced. Another massive sale!
Yes! Commission, promotion, life goals—check, check, check!
...
"…I see," Westley murmured as he spoke on a call, his tone oddly detached despite seeming to express concern. "So what do we do now?"
Golden-green eyes, utterly devoid of concern, contradicted the words coming out of his mouth.
"Mm… sounds good. See you tonight."
The bodyguards stood patiently nearby, accustomed to reading the atmosphere. Westley ended the call but didn't immediately board his aircar.
He was too focused on a familiar figure outside the window.
Black hair, white coat—it was her again?
This was the launch platform of the shopping center. Judging by the levels, she was on the ground floor. Between them was a one-way mirror: glass for him, a mirror for her.
He could see her.
She could only see herself.
She tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear—an ordinary gesture, yet it carried an inexplicable charm.
With the stray hair out of the way, her smooth, pale face was fully revealed, like the moon breaking through the clouds—breathtaking in its serene clarity.
Her skin was porcelain-perfect, almost glowing. A faint blush lingered on her cheeks, her brows arched elegantly above eyes that shimmered with a quiet melancholy.
She tilted her head thoughtfully.
Behind the glass, Westley tilted his head too, a smile playing on his lips.
His bodyguards: "…" lowered their heads in silence.
Vivienne suddenly beamed—a smile that melted clouds and scattered storms.
Westley arched a brow and smiled in return before turning toward his transport. "Let's go."
The couple had been taken away after their argument escalated into a full-on fight, but Vivienne still felt mentally trapped in the fallout zone.
She circled the area twice more. After declining several overly enthusiastic fashionistas who asked for her contact info, she managed to reassure herself that—yes, she still had it.
Thanks, Mom, for the face.
Still…
Vivienne found herself pausing before a mirror for the eighth time. It reflected a woman's faintly troubled face.
She brushed her bangs aside and inspected herself.
Left angle. Right angle.
Roast pork?!
How do I look like roast pork?!
Unfair. Unreasonable. Uncalled for… fine, I wish you two a long and "happy" life. You deserve each other.
Vivienne gave herself a satisfied smirk, humming a carefree tune as she turned to explore her next destination.
That earlier chaos was just a warm-up. Westley's schedule was packed until nightfall: representing the Duke's estate at the Capital Welfare Center to play with kids and take photos, then attending a charity art exhibition hosted by the daughter of Master Roder—Librena—at 5 p.m.
And of course, the usual evening socializing.
Lounging against the cushy seatback of his aircar, Westley let his mind wander to that call. Hopefully that'll be fun.
…
"Over the past ten years, thanks to generous support from many individuals and organizations, the orphanage has helped over 200 special children…"
…
"Everyone has the right to pursue their dreams. No matter your origins, the future belongs to the brave and resilient…"
…
"Thank you for attending. Just yesterday, my father mentioned you…"
…
"What are you smiling about?" Librena's curious voice interrupted Westley's daze.
"Your work is simply too captivating," he replied with a faint smile. "I couldn't look away."
Librena followed his gaze to the massive painting and smiled as well. It was her pride and joy—a riot of bold brushstrokes and vibrant flowers surrounding a castle. "You flatter me."
…
"Excuse me a moment."
From afar, Westley caught sight of a woman in white, standing beneath the painting, head tilted to admire it. His platinum hair shimmered as he walked toward her.
He whispered to himself, "Interesting."
In the crowded exhibition hall, Vivienne stood still, watching visitors photograph the artwork with their terminals.
The painting was massive, framed in deep oak that nearly covered the entire wall.
Lights from all angles brought the colors to life, transforming the space into a dreamy vision where even the viewers became part of the art.
"So beautiful."
The sudden male voice beside her caught Vivienne off guard.
The speaker had a strikingly handsome face and an elegant air. He wore a long wool coat, his platinum hair catching the light like moonbeams.
Hands in his pockets, he smiled lazily. "Came to the exhibit alone?"
Vivienne was momentarily distracted by his unusual golden-green eyes. "Aren't you alone too?"
Mind your business.
Still smiling, he extended his hand. "Mind if we get acquainted? I'm Westley."
Vivienne smiled slightly and shook his hand, releasing it a moment later.
With a subtle, playful tone, she replied, " Ixchel. you can just call me Yshi."
Out in the world—
Identity is what you make of it.
So is the name.