Chapter 45: How to Ask Someone Out
Cong Wenbin bought two popsicles and shared them with Yuan Zhong as they waited.
Yuan Zhong found him rather amusing. He was meticulous to the point of rigidity, spoke little, and certainly lacked any advanced skills in reading people’s moods. Yet, his care was always thorough and considerate—seeing the heat, he’d buy cold drinks without prompting, working late meant he’d order takeout on his own, and whenever there was physical work, he’d quietly take it all upon himself, never asking her to say a word more. As a woman, she had to admit it felt good. Why was that?
She guessed perhaps he was clever. Though he couldn’t decipher girls’ inner thoughts, he judged situations clearly, focusing solely on handling matters. When things were handled well, any partner would feel content.
“Hey, do you have a girlfriend?” Yuan Zhong asked.
Cong Wenbin shook his head.
“That’s odd. Guys like you should be rather popular,” Yuan Zhong encouraged him. “If you see someone you like, just be a little more proactive.”
Cong Wenbin shook his head again.
“What’s wrong?” Yuan Zhong was curious.
Cong Wenbin answered straightforwardly, “I like playing games.”
Well, she’d forgotten that—he wasn’t quite mature.
“Besides, my family is poor. No house, no car. Not suitable for dating,” Cong Wenbin added.
Yuan Zhong immediately retracted her earlier assessment of his maturity. “Hmm, don’t think like that. Not all girls care about those things.” She wanted to comfort him, but was interrupted.
Cong Wenbin was clear-eyed: “Not all, but most. If I had a daughter, I’d think the same way.”
Uh, Yuan Zhong didn’t know what to say.
Unlike others, Cong Wenbin didn’t ask if Yuan Zhong had a boyfriend. He was more concerned with another issue: “When can you call that unreliable guy?”
“When the work here is done,” Yuan Zhong promised. “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely invite him to dinner.” The man had really helped out today.
“Can I listen in?” Cong Wenbin asked.
“Huh?” Wasn’t that a bit much?
“I’m afraid you won’t know what to say,” Cong Wenbin’s words were astonishing.
“I don’t know what to say!” Yuan Zhong was speechless, silently retracting her earlier praise for him.
Cong Wenbin nodded seriously. “You’re not very good at talking to men.”
Uh, Yuan Zhong couldn’t refute that. In her experience, she had few male friends, little practice, and when she finally liked someone, she had no idea how to express it—things always got messy.
Seeing Yuan Zhong silent, Cong Wenbin took it as assent and nodded, “Then it’s settled, thanks in advance.”
Yuan Zhong gave him a look and consoled herself for three seconds.
When they finished their popsicles, Cong Wenbin carefully collected the sticks in a plastic bag and went to toss them in the trash.
With my limited wisdom, I doubt I’ll ever figure you out, Yuan Zhong thought.
Just then, she saw Qi Leyu swaggering over, hands in his pockets looking cool, with Chen Yue following behind, head down, the previous excitement gone.
Where was Wang Shanshan? Yuan Zhong craned her neck to look, but saw no sign of her.
“Is the signing here?” Qi Leyu walked over. “Lots of people.”
“It’s under control—epidemic requirements,” Yuan Zhong answered.
Qi Leyu nodded, seeming in good spirits. “Are we starting now?”
Yuan Zhong nodded, “Yes, some readers have been waiting a long time.” She led Qi Leyu to the front.
Seeing him, the crowd grew excited, waving and even calling out, “Master Qi!”
Qi Leyu waved back and sat down, seemingly well-versed in this sort of thing.
Yuan Zhong stepped aside, pulled Chen Yue over and asked, “Where’s Wang Shanshan?”
“She stormed off,” Chen Yue whispered.
“What happened?”
“During the interview, Qi Leyu barely spoke—well, he did, but his answers were empty, just ‘mm, yes, nothing much’ and so on. Wang Shanshan couldn’t even get her questions out. You should’ve seen her face—scary. I was worried she’d blow up right then.”
Yuan Zhong patted her chest—thank goodness she’d avoided it.
“Where were you just now? I was worried Wang Shanshan would give you trouble afterward,” Chen Yue asked.
“I was prepping here. The interview didn’t need me, I’d checked with her beforehand.” Yuan Zhong felt there was no way this could be pinned on her.
“Wang Shanshan was furious, just walked off. She’d dressed up so carefully—tsk, tsk.” Chen Yue shook her head.
Yuan Zhong glanced at Qi Leyu. A reader had brought a complete set, nearly twenty books, asking for a signature in each. He was patient.
“Hey, is there some tension between Wang Shanshan and Qi Leyu?” Yuan Zhong asked Chen Yue.
“No, Wang Shanshan idolizes him, maybe even likes him—could be pursuing him. She’s always going above and beyond for him, thinks of every good thing for him,” Chen Yue said.
“That’s strange,” Yuan Zhong felt. Qi Leyu seemed to have no affection for Wang Shanshan, maybe even disliked her.
“But, Master Qi seems introverted, not fond of events. What Wang Shanshan thinks is good, he might see as trouble, maybe even thinks she’s being deliberately difficult,” Chen Yue added.
Yuan Zhong nodded, that sounded possible.
Suddenly, Qi Leyu looked over and beckoned.
Yuan Zhong hurried over, “Anything you need?”
“Help me flip the pages, it’ll go faster,” Qi Leyu instructed.
“Sure.” Yuan Zhong stood beside him and helped turn the books.
“Master Qi, we meet again!” A reader was visibly excited.
“Mm, I’m doing fine, don’t worry.” Qi Leyu smiled. “If you’d stop flooding the review section, I’d be even better.”
“No way, I have to remind you,” the reader replied.
Qi Leyu snorted, “I don’t flood, every word is necessary for the plot. You’re just too impatient.”
“Why don’t you secretly tell me the ending then?” The reader leaned in.
Yuan Zhong instinctively stepped back.
“See? Impatient. You scared the young lady there. I just don’t get it—what’s the rush? Enjoy the wait, savor the gaps I’ve carefully crafted.”
“I can’t wait,” the reader shook his head. “Oh, do you remember ‘Paper Mache Halberd’? I left a comment in his section.”
“He hasn’t updated in ages, right?”
“Yeah, only a little in six months, makes you want to hit him. I commented: ‘I can’t wait anymore, let my grandson offer it for me at Qingming Festival.’”
Yuan Zhong couldn’t help laughing.
Qi Leyu rolled his eyes, “Next.”
The process went smoothly. There were more people than expected, and it took longer, but Qi Leyu was never impatient, chatting with familiar readers, keeping the atmosphere pleasant.
Yuan Zhong was a bit envious. For creative work, having someone appreciate it was truly delightful.
When the event ended, Yuan Zhong rubbed her waist—she’d been bending over to flip books and was sore.
“I told you to get a chair,” Qi Leyu frowned.
“I didn’t think it was appropriate to sit,” Yuan Zhong laughed. “It’s fine. Here, your car keys—spot F307. I’ll take you to the parking lot.”
Qi Leyu looked at her, then at the keys, but didn’t reach out.
Yuan Zhong examined the keys—nothing unusual—then looked at him, wondering if he was about to pull some stunt.
“How old are you?” Qi Leyu suddenly asked.
“Huh?” Yuan Zhong didn’t react at first.
“Hmm, maybe that’s not the right question. How about this—do you know how old I am?”
Yuan Zhong shook her head. She remembered he was quite young, but hadn’t noted the exact age.
“Do I look old to you?”
She shook her head again.
“Then could you stop using ‘Sir’? It sounds weird,” Qi Leyu said.
“Oh, I didn’t mean you’re old, just being respectful.”
“No need,” Qi Leyu took the keys. “Let’s go.”
Yuan Zhong hurried ahead to lead the way.
Cong Wenbin followed a few steps behind; Yuan Zhong called, “I’ll come back for you, wait here.”
Cong Wenbin nodded and went to help tidy up the site.
“Boyfriend?” Qi Leyu asked.
“Coworker,” Yuan Zhong replied.
“Pretty obedient,” Qi Leyu commented.
Yuan Zhong glanced at him, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
They reached the parking lot and found the car. Qi Leyu got in, started the engine, lowered the window, and asked, “Want a ride?”
“No, thanks. I still have some work to finish up,” Yuan Zhong replied gratefully.
Qi Leyu nodded and drove off.
Finally, it was over. Yuan Zhong let out a breath.
After everything was wrapped up, Yuan Zhong invited Cong Wenbin to dinner. Once the dishes were ordered, Cong Wenbin started urging her.
No choice, Yuan Zhong took out her phone, preparing to make a voice call on WeChat.
“Wait,” Cong Wenbin stopped her again.
“Aren’t you in a hurry?” Yuan Zhong was puzzled.
“Think first about what you’re going to say.”
“I’ll just tell him the truth.”
“Say it once for me.”
If it weren’t for his help, and how much he cared about this, Yuan Zhong wouldn’t bother. “I’ll say, ‘I have a coworker, your fan, would like to invite you to dinner.’”
“Wrong!”
The waiter serving the dishes was startled, nearly dropping the plate.
“Sorry,” Yuan Zhong apologized. “The plate’s fine, thank you.”
“Told you, you don’t know how to talk,” Cong Wenbin frowned.
Yuan Zhong picked up her chopsticks, took a bite, steadied herself. “Go ahead, how should I say it?”
“Be direct. Say: ‘We’ve known each other for a while, let’s have dinner together.’”
Yuan Zhong thought, isn’t that a bit too direct? I’m a woman—have you considered that?
Cong Wenbin asked, “Understand?”
“No,” Yuan Zhong replied directly. “Girls don’t invite people like that, especially someone they’ve never met.”
“Wrong. You’re not inviting, you’re helping me invite.”
Hmm, good point. But wait—the words come from my mouth.
Yuan Zhong shook her head. “Since I’m not the one inviting, it’s better to make it clear.”
“If you’re too clear, he might not come.”
“That’s his choice.”
“You said you’d help.”
“I promised to invite him, but whether he comes isn’t up to me.”
“No, you can make it happen,” Cong Wenbin insisted. “If you say it my way, he’ll definitely come.”
Yuan Zhong gave up on maintaining her composure, scratched her head, and kept eating.
Seeing her reluctance, Cong Wenbin sweetened the deal, “This meal’s on me.”
“It’s not the same thing,” Yuan Zhong didn’t want to entertain him.
“What will it take for you to say it?”
“I’m willing, but it has to fit my persona, understand?” Yuan Zhong insisted.
Never thought she’d see the day a straight-laced guy taught her how to invite someone out.
“You should look at it from the outcome’s perspective. For the best result, use the best method. If you’re going to spend the effort, make it worthwhile,” Cong Wenbin explained seriously.
Yuan Zhong had no choice, retorted, “Just one chance. Even if I say it your way, can you guarantee he’ll accept?”
Cong Wenbin took the question seriously, thought it over for the length of a dish, then replied, “Still, say it that way. The odds are highest—I’ve run through all the scenarios.”