Just then, a flock of white pigeons took flight, momentarily obscuring the man's profile. Her heart started pounding wildly, like a child chasing after a helium balloon in the square. She followed him, eyes fixed on him without blinking.
His eyes were a rare shade of gray-blue, exuding a kind of indifference, as if he didn't care about anything, yet his face bore a friendly smile. He seemed to be somewhat older, with some wrinkles and bags under his eyes, but for some reason, these flaws were like the broken arm of the Venus de Milo or the missing head of the Winged Victory of Samothrace—they only made his gaze appear deeper and softened the coldness of his cool-toned pupils.
Lola stared at him, looking again and again, her mind in a whirl, her ears buzzing. Apart from the increasingly strong beat of her heart, she couldn't hear anything else.
She didn't understand what love was, nor did she know what it meant to fall in love at first sight. She only knew that this man exuded a kind of charm that made her heart flutter.
What exactly was this feeling? She couldn't describe it. If she had to, it might be like ice meeting fire, a desert encountering an oasis, or a fish in the sea seeing an antelope on the plains.
Lola was a girl with a clear understanding of herself. It was precisely because she understood herself that she never fantasized about changing her fate through knowledge, nor did she ever dream of escaping that dirty street. She knew she was destined to be a bad girl, so she never thought about becoming good.
But at this moment, at this precise second, she suddenly had the urge to be good.
Perhaps it was because young girls are inherently changeable; she no longer thought that becoming good was an impossible task, nor did she think that leaving that filthy street was out of reach—after all, she had met this man in the vast sea of people. What else could be impossible?
Lola dazedly followed the man for an entire block until he walked into a luxurious hotel. A doorman in a tailcoat and white gloves bowed slightly to him and pushed open the heavy glass doors. It wasn't until she saw his figure disappear into the lavish lobby that she snapped back to reality.
She stood outside, staring blankly at her reflection in the deep blue glass. Compared to that man, she was so childish, so frivolous, like a little girl eating a sundae in a fast-food restaurant. He, on the other hand, was steady and mature, radiating a unique elegance in every move. The only connection she had with him was that she had looked at him from afar on the street. And then what?
Nothing more.
At that thought, her urge to become good vanished completely. She gave the hotel one last forlorn look, then turned and walked away.
Back home, she kicked off her canvas shoes and looked at the silent, empty living room, suddenly wanting to cry.
The living room used to be the liveliest part of the house. Every day when she came home from school, she would see different styles of men's shoes on the carpet by the entrance. Her mother liked to listen to slow-paced jazz music, often ending up crying alone as she listened.
Lola had always thought her mother was too emotional, so whenever her mother played music, Lola would sneak into her bedroom and pretend to read. She hated talking to her mother, but now, she suddenly missed her mother terribly, even those awful jazz songs.
Lola sniffled, walked over to the radio, and tuned it to the jazz station. The prelude of clarinets, saxophones, and pianos flowed out slowly, and soon, a nasal, raspy voice began lamenting a sad summer romance. Lola closed her eyes and listened for a while, still finding it unbearable.
After enduring one terrible jazz song, Lola's sad mood was temporarily lifted. Her stomach growled, and she was about to grab some money and go out for food when she suddenly remembered—she had taken the day off to go downtown to the opera house, all for the purpose of securing a long-term meal ticket, hadn't she?
And what had she done?
She had ignored the long-term meal ticket Mrs. Harris had arranged and instead chased after another man for an entire block, only to come home, listen to a song, and then remember the meal ticket.
…What now?
Should she go back and find that meal ticket?
If she hadn't seen that other man's profile, she would have definitely gone back to find the meal ticket. But now that she had seen him… she just couldn't bring herself to accept the meal ticket's appearance anymore.
Lola lay on the sofa, holding her empty stomach, contemplating life.
She was so hungry and wanted nothing more than soft, crispy bread. But she also wanted to possess the noble, elegant aura of that stranger… If she chose the bread, she would never have the chance to become noble and elegant.
But she was really, really hungry.
And besides, she had already incurred a $150 debt for that bread… Could elegance earn money? Obviously not.
The more she thought about it, the more frustrated she became. Lola turned over, hugged a pillow, and banged her head against it twice.
Because she hadn't eaten all day, the next morning, she nearly fainted in the bathroom. Her vision flashed white, her head buzzed, and her insides screamed with sharp alarms. It was a sign of low blood sugar. Lola leaned against the wall for a while, then boiled a kettle of hot water and made a cup of honeyed tea with the last bit of honey in the jar.
After drinking it, her stomach felt much better. But she couldn't survive on honey water forever, and there wasn't much honey left anyway. She had to make a choice between "bread" and the "stranger."
Lola wasn't sure if it was because she was too hungry or because the battle between "bread" and "a strange man" was too intense, but she was in a daze all morning. When taking orders from customers, she misheard "pork neck" as "pork leg," mistook "cream-baked lobster" for "cream puffs," and delivered "cowboy steak" instead of "pork ribs."
The restaurant manager was almost driven to madness, but when he saw her pale yet beautiful face, his anger vanished without a trace.
"What's wrong?" the manager asked gently, looking at her long, moist black eyelashes, "You've been listless all morning."
Lola had been waiting all morning for this question. She blinked, and tears like jewels started to fall: "I'm sorry, I'm just so hungry..." She truly was hungry, so her tears seemed especially genuine and pitiful. "My mom ran off with a man, I have no money for school or food... I'm sorry, I thought I could hold on, but I ended up messing up the job... I'm really sorry."
Whenever Lola spoke to a man, her mind worked exceptionally well. She deliberately concealed any information that might harm her and only told the beneficial truths. Because everything she said was true, even a sharp man like the restaurant manager couldn't detect any lies—of course, even if he did realize she was lying, he wouldn't have the heart to reprimand such a beautiful face.
The restaurant manager's salary was several times that of Lola's. He grasped Lola's thin shoulders, pressed her into a chair, and instructed another waiter to bring a children's meal from the kitchen.
After saying this, he sat down beside Lola and gently said, "If it's not enough, let me know. Don't come to work hungry anymore. It's not good for either of us. Those cute little mistakes of yours just got me quite a scolding."
Because of her beauty, Lola had received many privileges since she was a child, but this level of privilege wasn't enough to make her feel deeply grateful. But she had indeed made many mistakes earlier, so she sincerely apologized, "I'm sorry."
The manager waved it off as if he had never been upset at all. Soon, the children's meal arrived: a cup of Coca-Cola, a plate of grilled pork ribs, and a bowl of Italian vegetable salad. Lola was so hungry that she started wolfing down the food, completely ignoring her image.
The manager smiled as he watched Lola. Her small, full lips were a deep red, and even with the brown sauce smeared on them, they didn't look greasy. Instead, they aroused a sense of appetite in him. Her tear-stained eyes still glistened with wetness, and her long black lashes stuck together.
This girl was so charming, so sexy, and so beautiful, but she still had a strong aura of innocence, especially when she gulped down Coca-Cola, reminding the manager of his daughter, who had just started high school.
At this thought, the desire in him dissipated completely. He found an excuse and left in disappointment.
Lola knew the manager was watching her, but she was used to it and didn't care. After all, he had just treated her to a feast, solving her immediate problem, so he could look all he wanted. She was still pondering the issue of bread and love. Although she didn't know the name of "love," it didn't matter. She gave him a code name, "L," the first letter of "LOVE."
Mr. L.
Perhaps it was just her imagination, but thinking about Mr. L, even the anxiety over her debts seemed to lighten, and everything around her appeared warm and rosy.
As she thought this, she looked up and saw Mr. L walking in through the restaurant's main entrance.
Today, he was dressed in a black striped suit, a light gray shirt, and a black tie. This outfit made his legs look particularly long and his overall demeanor even more noble and distinguished. Under the brilliant crystal chandelier, his gray-white hair was slicked back, revealing a broad forehead and prominent brow bones.
He did seem a bit old, but despite his narrow cheeks and straight nose, she could still see some prominent wrinkles. However, it didn't matter; old or not, she couldn't tell his age anyway, only that he looked good, even with those signs of aging.
At that moment, a woman noticed Mr. L and immediately stood up, waving at him enthusiastically. The woman had shoulder-length curly hair, wore a fashionable mini skirt, brown stockings, and red Lucy Jane shoes, and carried a clutch adorned with sequins and faux pearls. She walked over and warmly took Mr. L's arm, inviting him to sit down.
Lola bit her lip in slight displeasure, but soon after, Mr. L subtly withdrew his arm and chose a seat on his own. Lola let out a sigh of relief, and her mood lightened once again.
But her displeasure returned quickly. The woman, now seated across from Mr. L, clasped her delicate fingers together, resting her chin on them as she smiled and spoke softly to him. Lola wouldn't have been too upset if it was just that, but under the golden dining table, she noticed the woman's red Lucy Jane shoe slyly brushing against Mr. L's straight leg.
Unable to hold it in, Lola abruptly stood up.
But all she could do was stand there, fuming, because Mr. L didn't even know her.
He hadn't even glanced in her direction.
What "love"? What "Mr. L"? It was all just her romantic and ridiculous fantasy. They hadn't even spoken a single word to each other.
Lola felt dejected, taking a deep breath, trying to shake off her whimsical thoughts of Mr. L. But a colleague's words pulled her right back into her reverie.
"Lola, are you done eating? My stomach's a bit upset. Could you cover A3 for me?"
A3 was exactly where Mr. L was seated.
Lola turned her head and, for the first time, flashed a bright smile at her colleague. "Sure!"
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