Sera instantly hurled back a string of pitiful emojis.

"Don't be like that, I'm truly powerless here," followed by two crying faces.

Chapter 19: Who Doesn't Like a Handsome Man

I ignored her, exiting the chat interface, and my main page received two news alerts. I always considered myself worldly yet utterly uninterested in current affairs, never paying attention to major news. Yet this time, I uncontrollably clicked the page open, staring intently for a couple of moments before bursting into laughter. As expected, I hadn't mistaken him; amidst a group photo of several dozen individuals, I spotted a familiar face.

Julian.

It wasn't a massive piece of news, just a brief report covering a business conference held yesterday. The article wasn't long, but Julian's name was mentioned five or six times, utilizing descriptors like "business elite" and "rising star." The endless praise made my eyelids twitch.

My gaze fell back onto the accompanying photo. It was a perfectly ordinary group shot with low resolution, captured from a significant distance, leaving the man's features completely blurred, offering only a faint silhouette. Yet that silhouette alone effortlessly eclipsed everyone else in the frame.

Having only met him a handful of times, I was already paying this much attention to him. Even I felt surprised by my own reaction.

Resentfully exiting the page, I locked my phone and comforted myself, it's not my fault, who told this man to be so incredibly handsome. I walked into the beauty salon with an air of nonchalance, thinking to myself that I simply found his looks appealing.

Nothing more than that!

Who doesn't like a handsome man? I pulled my phone from my bag once more, navigating back to the previous page to find that photo containing Julian, and took a screenshot.

For some reason, my mood suddenly brightened, and a smile slowly crept onto my lips.

However, this good mood didn't last long. The moment I settled into my seat at the beauty salon, an uninvited guest arrived.

I was looking down at my phone when a sudden commotion erupted in the lobby. I paid it no mind. To my surprise, the shouting grew louder and louder, prompting me to look back, only to see a young girl strutting in on towering heels. She looked three or four years younger than me, likely not even graduated yet. Even her heavy makeup couldn't conceal her childish face.

The girl was completely unyielding, her chest thrown out with an arrogant air. "What do you mean reservation? I said it's my turn, so it's my turn!" Fresh to the world, her temper was even more explosive than her figure. Despite lacking an appointment, she insisted she was next in line, taking out her frustration on the staff.

As a regular customer here, I had seen my fair share of unreasonable clients and usually chose to avoid trouble to maintain my peace. Unexpectedly, the girl marched straight over, looking down at me with supreme disdain. "Are you next?" Her eyes were filled with contempt. "Let's swap, it's my turn now."

Despite my best efforts to avoid complications, trouble had ultimately found its way to my door.

Thinking that I couldn't let Sera's reservation from three days ago go to waste, I stood up unhurriedly, offering a warm smile. "Sister, everything follows a first-come, first-served rule, don't you think?"

She didn't cast a single glance at me, completely absorbed in touched up her makeup with a compact mirror. A minute later, she finally raised her head and let out a cold snort. "Who the hell do you think you are? I paid money, and I'm in a hurry." Her face was a portrait of impatience.

As expected, aside from her figure, this girl possessed absolutely zero redeeming qualities. I quietly took stock of her attire; a high-end designer dress paired with the latest model of heels.

What a waste of garments, worn by such a malicious individual.

The girl's brows arched. "Did you hear me, are you swapping or not?!"

I maintained my smile. "I can't do that."

Losing her temper, she raised her palm to strike me, but my reflexes were faster, clamping down tightly on her wrist as my expression turned fierce. "Sister, do you think this is your home? What's with this habit of biting people randomly?"

Chapter 20: Misfortune

She struggled against my grip. "Let go of me! If you ruin my clothes, can you even afford to replace them? You probably can't even buy them with half a year's salary!" Only then did I realize that for convenience this afternoon, I had thrown on a simple athletic tracksuit. Compared to her, I did look overly plain.

Terrified that the situation would escalate, several staff members rushed over to mediate. "Ma'am, don't lower yourself to her level." With that, they prepared to issue a refund and remove the disruptive client. Business, after all, relied on mutual willingness, and the salon didn't care about losing a single customer.

Feeling she had lost face, the girl steadfastly refused to leave, pulling out her phone to call for backup. Five minutes later, a luxury vehicle pulled up outside the entrance, and a heavily built man walked in, his greasy balding head looking remarkably familiar.

The moment he entered, the girl burst into tears and threw herself into his embrace, wailing about her grievances. The man lowered his head to comfort her with a couple of sentences. His voice sounded familiar, prompting me to take a closer look, and I couldn't help but quietly utter a curse.

How full of misfortune today was.

It wasn't anyone else but Mr. Weston.

Recalling the previous ordeal, a wave of revulsion washed over me, and I took two steps back in trepidation. Meeting the girl's triumphant gaze, she likely assumed I was intimidated, tilting her chin up. "Why aren't you speaking now?" With that, she turned to cling to Mr. Weston, who was easily old enough to be her father, calling him "dear" over and over until my skin crawled.

"...Dear, you have to stand up for me, it was this woman who bullied me."

The moment Mr. Weston's eyes landed on me, his expression froze for a fraction of a second before returning to normal. A lecherous gleam flashed within his small eyes, making me violently sick to my stomach, almost throwing up the light lunch I had eaten earlier.

He ambled over until he stood directly in front of me, whispering near my ear, "My beauty, long time no see. To be honest, since I failed to sample you last time, I've missed you quite a bit." As he spoke, his indecent gaze scanned up and down my chest. He added in a low murmur, "Escaping from my hands last time was pure luck. Consider yourself fortunate that I'm in a good mood today, so I'll let you off for now."

"That kid Christian really isn't anything good. Staying by his side will only bring you regret in the future." He pulled out a business card and shoved it into my hand. "Whenever you grow tired of him and want to try a different flavor, give me a call."

Without a moment's thought, I tore the business card to shreds right in front of his face. "I appreciate your kindness." Then, casting a glance at the girl, I offered a brilliant smile to Mr. Weston. "When you go back, don't constantly buy counterfeit goods for young girls. Even if they are high-quality replicas, it's still quite disheartening. Based on that alone, I wouldn't dare follow you."

Turning to the girl, I added, "Don't you agree?"

Mr. Weston's weathered face instantly turned an unsightly shade of green. The look he directed at me was murderous as he dragged his young mistress away. "We're leaving!"

I stood behind them laughing hysterically, finding the outcome incredibly satisfying.

On the day Christian returned, I paid a visit to the supermarket, piling a shopping cart high with various ingredients. Passing by a bakery, I even specifically purchased the raw materials for making a cake.

I truly wasn't cut out to be a domestic woman. There was a saying about how the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, but in my case, it was a total myth.

The number of times I entered the kitchen each year could be counted on one hand, and every attempt resulted in utter chaos. So the moment I stepped out of the supermarket, regret set in. After some thought, I decided to skip cooking complex dishes and make a cake instead.

Sera loved sweet desserts, and during the summer break when she had nothing to do, she insisted on dragging me to some baking class to learn how to make cakes and pastries. Accompanying her, I had picked up a fair amount through osmosis. The process wasn't smooth, full of stumbles, and I had to call Sera for help multiple times midway. After a whole afternoon of struggle, I barely managed to produce a few finished products.