The boy had never seen so much money before. He quickly shook his head and waved his hands, saying, "No, no, no. I don’t want it, you’ve already helped a lot!"
Ling Momo said nothing more, and firmly stuffed the money into the boy’s palm. A breeze blew, lifting her hat. Ling Momo hurriedly reached up to hold it down, but the boy still saw her face. His expression instantly stiffened, and his mouth opened slightly, nearly blurting out "Ling Momo," but then he saw her making a shushing gesture. She then gently put her hat back on, turned, and quietly walked away.
The boy watched Ling Momo walk far away before he finally lowered his head to look at the thick stack of money in his hands.
He really did need the money, had even dread of receiving such an amount, but now he couldn’t feel any happiness at all.
No wonder that woman’s rendition of "Forgive" was so captivating; she was the original singer, Ling Momo.
Currently, she was the most notorious celebrity in the entertainnt circle.
Everyone said she was vile, promiscuous, filthy...
He had always thought her scandals had nothing to do with him, but now, he felt sad for her, heartbroken because, in just one afternoon, he realized that she was the most wonderful woman in the world.
Only when he could no longer see Ling Momo’s figure did the boy finally let out a deep sigh and bent down to gather his things.
He had just finished packing when, before he could look up, he saw a pair of shoes appear before him, so black and shiny, obviously handcrafted and expensive, reflecting his face.
The boy followed the shoes upward and then saw the most stunning face he had ever encountered in the world.
Even as a man, he couldn’t help but stare, dazed, for a long while before he awkwardly asked, "Is there sothing you need?"
"Phone," the man replied, his voice exceptionally cold, like the perpetual, unlting snow high on the mountains, pure yet solitary, "Yours."
The boy found the situation exceedingly strange, a stunning man asking for his phone number—anyone unaware would think he had unusual interests. Unable to help himself, he inwardly cursed and then, raising his head, t the man’s aningful gaze, prompting him to blurt out his phone number involuntarily.
The man didn’t take out a phone to note it down but just nodded arrogantly, then cast an imperious glance at him and said, "I have no interest in you," before turning and walking away.
The man’s departure was so graceful, his steps calm and unhurried, exuding an indescribable nobility. The young boy watched his retreating figure, utterly baffled for a long ti. He wondered how the man seed so divine, how he could know what he was thinking just now? And what a peculiar man, why did he want his phone number?
The boy thought for a long ti but couldn’t co up with a reason. Finally, with his guitar on his back, he walked away along the wintry road.
As he left, the stunning man, who had walked in the opposite direction to him, opened his Bugatti Veyron, settled in, then took out his phone and made a call, "Asheng, find out all the information about the owner of this phone number."
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