It was Christmas Eve and everyone was out there enjoying the fluffy snow that was falling very slowly. The street with bars on both the sides was brightly lit and filled with merry people in holiday mood.
In the middle of the footpath, a handsome looking silver haired tall guy was just staring into the space, tracing the path of snowflakes, as they touched his cold face and melted into nothingness. He boasted a perfect jawline, thin delicious looking red lips and a dozen of piercing on his ears. The tight hugging sweater he was wearing accentuated his perfect figure. Even though he was wearing a hood on his head, he was attracting too much attention.
"Excuse me, are you the idol star Mo Yifan?" a girl who was randomly passing by, stopped in her tracks and approached the guy.
He snapped back to reality and cast a glance on the girl before him. She looked like a native of this country who had recognized him just like that.
"I⦠don't know⦠English," he struggled to churn out a sentence in broken English. His aloof demeanor from just now had changed to an embarrassed person who just looked lost.
This guy, who had worn branded clothes from head to toe, apparently, resembled a sensational worldwide phenomenon in Chinese pop world, Mo Yifan.
Mo Yifan was not only a famous solo singer, but all his songs were composed by himself. He would write about everyday struggles of the youth, and a lot of people related to his songs. There was rage, there was struggle, there was pain in his lyrics. The fifteen year old's popularity had suddenly exploded at that time.
On the top of his raspy voice which touched the hearts of billions, he had a face and a body which transcended the mortal realm. Thus, majority of his fanbase was females, of all ages.
Now at eighteen years old, the idol could not step out of house without being recognized. He was always disguised, with masks and glasses on whenever he had to go out to play.
But that idol's popularity had put this guy under a predicament. He had just stopped for a moment to enjoy the mundane things in life, the falling snow.
"Oh my God, he does look like the famous idol Mo Yifan!" a few other girls had heard what the first girl had said and they had gathered around the guy, cornering him against a tree.
"But that is not right, Mo Yifan is very proficient in English, but this guy does not even understand it," another fangirl spoke from behind.
This was an inconspicuous place, so no one thought of this as an odd behavior. Other people just passed by, drunk and in their own world.
"Get a picture! Get a picture, oh my God! We hit the jackpot today!!" a few girls just took out their phones and started snapping the poor guy's picture. The helpless guy covered his face with hands.
"No pictures please, no pictures," he pleaded. Sweat rolled down from his forehead to nape of his neck. What had he gotten himself into?
He was just strolling around. Could he just not have a moment of peace in life?
"Can you please stop harassing my boyfriend?" a girl popped up out of nowhere and took the silver haired guy's hand in hers gently.
"Who are you?" the girl who had first discovered this Mo Yifan look alike inquired in anger. Who the hell was she? Mo Yifan did not have a girlfriend, much less this plain looking girl.
The silver haired guy glanced at the girl beside him. In reality, he had no idea who she was. All he could say was that she looked of Asian descent. She looked about sixteen years in age, she was shorter than him in height by about a head. He just had a glance at her face. Her jet black short bob cut gave her a tomboy feel.
But she had perfect English, so there was no way she belonged to his country. This did not stop him to be mesmerized by the girl.
"Why do you care who I am? Plus, if I say he is my boyfriend, he is one. Can no one else look like that Mo Yifan?" she spoke eloquently and gracefully. Her voice was soft, tugging the strings of the guy's heart but the boldness in her voice spoke tons about her bravado.
"What proof do you have that he is not Mo Yifan?" another girl in the crowd asked.
The girl with black hair scoffed. "Now I need to prove my boyfriend's identity to you guys? What kind of country is this, eh? Harassing a foreigner like this? If you can't differentiate between faces, it is not my problem," she replied, her voice becoming colder by the minute.
"Youβ¦," a few of the girls got really enraged at her statement. Was this girl insulting their country? Wasn't she bold? Was she a tourist? Each and every girl there wanted to rip apart the mouth of this brazen girl.