Chapter 46

It was funny to Winnie that someone like Van, who wasn't lacking in women, still needed to go on blind dates. Was it because choosing a girlfriend or mistress only required mutual attraction, but selecting a wife was something to be carefully considered and taken seriously? Wendy actually didn't want to share this, but Yulia had seen it when they were all hanging out together. Van was wearing a white shirt and black trousers. Maybe because it wasn't a formal date, he hadn't worn a tie, or perhaps it was the good weather that day, so he had rolled up his sleeves, revealing a strong, sexy arm with prominent veins. He even wore glasses, with silver frames, and was looking down at his phone. On the table in front of him was a coffee cup and saucer. Yulia gasped, "Wow, Mr. Marlowe! How do you have Mr. Marlowe on your Instagram?!" The caption of the photo was quite blunt: Out on a blind date, ladies, are you in? If you're in, comment '1', if not, comment '2'. Wendy had no idea how to respond. This was one of her classmates from the girls' school she attended in the UK, her best friend, who was very beautiful and very much into Van's type. Wendy looked at the photo with a blank face. There was no need to guess; this had to be a candid shot. The post was likely shared in a private group, so only her close friends could see it. "Well," Wendy said, wracking her brain, "It's someone I hosted before in the boardroom, a rich young lady." Yulia didn't suspect anything and kept scrolling through the photo. "Mr. Marlowe looks different today, he really dressed up for the blind date." Someone below had asked who it was, and the best friend replied: Can't say, huge big shot. Winnie stood with her back to them, gripping her script tightly. The 500 words of half-baked classical English, which she had memorized so well, suddenly slipped from her mind. She fell silent for a moment. Yulia didn't think much of it, assuming Winnie was just tired, so she poured her a cup of coffee. "Mr. Marlowe looks even more charismatic when he's not in a suit," Yulia remarked. Winnie tightened her grip on the cup, smiling. "Why are you so obsessed with him? He's out on a blind date, after all." "Gossip time," Yulia set down the cold brew pot and turned to ask Wendy, "Are you familiar with this young lady? Is she pretty?" Winnie's smile froze on her face, flawless yet stiff. Wendy shrugged and casually nodded, speaking in a nonchalant tone, "Yeah, she's pretty. She and Mr. Marlowe probably get along well enough; they both study philosophy. Mr. Marlowe is at Cambridge, and she's in London." "Mr. Marlowe studies philosophy and not business or management?" Yulia asked. Wendy chuckled. "With his background, he would usually study philosophy, literature, or other classical humanities subjects. Those fields are filled with noble heirs or old European old-money types, inheriting family names and titles. Business, finance, and economics…Those subjects are never on their radar. They're too practical and not 'classic' enough." Yulia seemed to be pondering it. "Because they have time to dive into things that aren't practical." Wendy looked at Yulia with newfound respect. "Exactly, that's exactly it. It's a symbol of nobility in itself." She smiled. "But Mr. Marlowe is different. He also studied law and finance. He knows exactly what he wants." Yulia suddenly had an idea, and couldn't help but smile. "So, do you think they talk about philosophy on their blind date?" Wendy burst out laughing at that, but Winnie remained silent, her thoughts drifting back to their phone call earlier. She had interrupted his blind date. Then why, during the date, did he still send her a message? Ah, it was to ask for a signature. Who was he asking for a signature for? One question after another, she couldn't tell if they were digging for the truth or for her heart, making it beat erratically. During his blind date, he casually asked for her signature for the date, as if it was nothing, perhaps even laughing and saying, "You like Winnie? I know her fairly well." When the phone rang, Winnie glanced at the caller ID and knew she had no right to hang up or ignore it. Don't be so surprised. Don't be so self-important. She passed by the two assistants, saying, "I'm going out to take a call. You can handle dinner without me. Prepare it yourselves." Once in the room, she answered the phone, her voice bright and upbeat. "Hello, Mr. Marlowe. I've been waiting for your call." Van picked up the phone, frowning as he glanced at the caller ID. It was indeed Winnie. He stood in the outdoor smoking area, holding a cigarette between his fingers. This was the last cigarette of the day—he was completely exhausted from the blind date and had to rely on smoking to clear his frustration. "Is everything okay?" he asked calmly, exhaling a puff of smoke. Maybe it was the cigarette or maybe her voice, but his irritation seemed to ease slightly. "Yes. Why do you ask?" Winnie replied with a bright smile, her energy still unwavering. "Winnie," Van called her name, narrowing his eyes as his demeanor darkened. "Don't pretend to be happy when you're not." "Maybe you are just too suspicious," Winnie replied, her tone still steady. "My day was just ordinary, nothing to be happy or upset about. By the way, you asked for my signature. Do you want it to be 'To' something? Let me know what to write, and I'll have someone deliver it to you later." Van paused for a moment, saying, "To 'Little Celine,' I'll send you the words over SnapChat. You can decide what you want to write." Hearing him call someone else "little" made Winnie's eyes well up with tears. This was completely unreasonable. Winnie didn't understand why she was acting so irrationally today. Before hanging up, Van asked again, "Are you sure everything's fine?" Winnie bit her lip tightly and murmured, "Mm." After ending the call, she opened a drawer and pulled out a large stack of her previous posters. She randomly picked one and realized it was the poster for the war-separated couple scene she was currently filming, where she was lying in a meadow writing a letter to her husband. Winnie suddenly felt a sharp pang in her heart. "To Little Celine." Tears fell, smudging the ink from the marker. She had to start over. "To Little Celine, wishing you sweet happiness every day and a fulfilling life." After writing, she threw the marker aside and leaned by the window, taking deep breaths. She was off, clearly lost in the role, as the character she was playing was writing a letter to her husband on a rural ranch. The lines were full of deep emotion, and she had gotten so immersed in it that she lost herself. Fearing that Van might have an opinion or perhaps want something more intimate or personal written, Winnie took a photo of the postcard and sent it to him, "Is this okay?" Van, true to form, didn't like to type and sent a voice message with an unmistakable hint of amusement. "Wishing an eight-year-old sweet happiness— isn't that a bit too much, Niñita?" "Eight years old" Winnie replied, feeling flustered. Her phone vibrated again. This time, it was a voice call request. Flustered, she quickly answered, and Van explained, "It's my partner's daughter. She said she liked many of your works. Originally, I was going to ask my brother, Stephan, to help me get in touch with you, but since we know each other, I just went ahead and asked you directly. I hope you don't mind it being sudden." Winnie, speechless. "Why aren't you speaking?" Van asked. "How did you end up thinking of wishing a little kid sweet happiness?" He couldn't help but admit, those words had rescued him from the exhausting blind date, and he almost couldn't stop himself from laughing. "I..." Winnie faltered, "I thought it was for one of your female friends." "What female friend? Why would I call her 'little'?" Van's voice remained calm, though there was a trace of something more in his tone.