His physiological preference

Jiang Siya reached out and took Yang Zhiyan's hand, which was resting on the table. Her hand was smaller than Yang Zhiyan's, but it was plump and warm to hold.

"Zhiyan, I've told you many times," Jiang Siya said, slowing her pace, "If someone doesn't love you, you don't have to love them back. Don't let blood ties bind you."

Yang Zhiyan looked at the hand Jiang Siya was holding. Her nails were done, a light purple, with two small rhinestones that sparkled under the light.

"I used to think you were wrong," Yang Zhiyan said.

"And now?"

"Now I think," she thought for a moment, "you're right."

Jiang Siya gently patted Yang Zhiyan. Then she picked up her teacup and raised it to Yang Zhiyan: "Come on, a toast to your belated realization."

The two teacups clinked together, making a crisp sound.

The food was served very quickly.

The crispy roast goose was still sizzling when it was served. The skin was dark brown and glistening with oil. One bite and it was as crispy as a potato chip, while the meat underneath was so tender that it melted in your mouth with the tip of your tongue.

Steamed spare ribs with black bean sauce are served in a small bamboo steamer. The salty aroma of black beans permeates the meat, and the small piece of tendon next to the bone is the best part, chewy and delicious.

The shrimp dumpling skin is so thin it's almost transparent, allowing you to see the pink shrimp meat inside. One bite and the juice bursts in your mouth.

Yang Zhiyan ate her fill. It had been a long time since she had enjoyed a proper meal out.

The last time we ate out was last month when Teacher Mu treated us to a meal at a noodle shop near the studio. We each ate a bowl of beef noodles and even finished the soup.

"Is it good?" Jiang Siya picked up a piece of char siu pastry and put it into her bowl.

"Delicious." Yang Zhiyan took a bite of the char siu pastry; it was simply too delicious.

"Eat more if you like it." Jiang Siya put another shrimp dumpling on her plate. "Your waist is as thin as paper, you'd fall over in the wind."

Yang Zhiyan glanced down at her waist. Wearing a cheongsam today accentuated her figure. Teacher Mu had previously remarked on her beautiful waist and advised her not to always wear loose-fitting cotton and linen clothes, hiding her best features.

She specially changed into this outfit today, and hesitated for a moment before leaving the house, worried that it would accentuate her figure too much. But then she thought, "I'm wearing it for myself, who cares about others?"

"By the way," Jiang Siya said, her mouth full of shrimp dumplings, her words muffled, "you said last time a guy added you on WeChat? What's going on?"

Yang Zhiyan paused for a moment with her chopsticks.

"Just a customer," she said.

"What kind of guest?"

"Looks..." Yang Zhiyan thought for a moment, unsure how to describe him. Calling him handsome was too simplistic, and saying he was good-looking wasn't enough. She carefully considered her words, "He's quite handsome. He has a great presence; you can tell he's a leader."

"A leader?" Jiang Siya's eyes lit up. "How high a position?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask."

"Are you stupid? Aren't you going to ask? What if it's a big fish?"

"What do you mean by 'big fish' or 'small fish'?" Yang Zhiyan picked up a piece of bok choy with her chopsticks. "He's here to order a cheongsam as a birthday gift for his mother, and he looks mature and composed; he's definitely married."

"You're married? Never mind then."

"But Zhiyan, you have to be careful."

"Be careful of what?"

Jiang Siya put down her chopsticks and said seriously, "If a man adds you on WeChat and says he wants to make a cheongsam for your mother, would you really believe him?"

Yang Zhiyan was taken aback by what she said.

"Then what else could he be doing this for?" she asked.

Jiang Siya didn't answer. She picked up her teacup and took another sip. What a simple-minded little fool. She put down her teacup and pointed with her chopsticks at the char siu pastry in front of Yang Zhiyan: "Be careful of being a mistress."

"..."

In a private room at the end of the corridor on the second floor of the restaurant, a dinner party had just ended.

The door opened.

Qin Yuzheng was the first to come out.

He was wearing a white shirt with a black casual suit jacket over it tonight.

My hair was a little messier than usual. I unconsciously ran my hands through it a few times at the dinner table without realizing it.

He stood in the corridor, the door to the private room behind him not fully closed, letting in a sliver of warm yellow light that fell on his shoulder like a narrow river of light.

He drank a little tonight, not much, but enough to make his ears turn slightly red. He doesn't drink often, but today was because Liu Minlan came from Beijing, and it was a rare occasion for several people to get together.

People gradually came out of the private room.

The second is Mu Cheng. He is two years younger than Qin Yuzheng, and his family runs a large business, with connections to several listed companies in Haicheng.

He was wearing a navy blue suit, no tie, and the top two buttons of his shirt collar were undone, revealing a small patch of skin below his collarbone.

He was holding his phone, replying to messages, his thumb flying across the screen without even looking up.

Then there was Zhou Zhanyu. He didn't talk much, but he had the best physique among them. He was a veteran who now worked for a security company, and he stood very straight.

He was wearing a black polo shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the middle of his arms, revealing clearly defined forearm muscles with prominent veins running from the back of his hands all the way to the inside of his sleeves.

Finally, Liu Minlan appeared. He had a smiling face, long and narrow eyes, and a mouth that was always slightly upturned. He was a well-known smiling tiger in the political arena.

He works for a ministry in Beijing and is in the same profession as Qin Yuzheng. Their families have been friends for generations, dating back to their grandfathers' generation.

When Liu Minlan came out, he was still holding a half-full cup of tea. He didn't leave in a hurry. He leaned against the wall of the corridor, slowly drank the half-full cup of tea, and then put the cup on the windowsill of the corridor.

"Ah Zheng," he called out, "Want to come to my place for a drink tonight? Old Zhou has a winery and a private club. They just got a batch of New World wines that I haven't tried yet."

Just as Qin Yuzheng was about to speak, he suddenly caught something out of the corner of his eye.

At the end of the corridor is the railing on the second floor, and below the railing is the lobby on the first floor of the restaurant.

Through the gaps in the railing, you can see the white tablecloths, the warm yellow lights, and the shadows of people in the row of seats by the window.

His gaze lingered on the table closest to the window.

The woman sitting by the window, facing away from him, was eating with her head down.

She was wearing a beige cheongsam, her hair loosely tied up with a hairpin. Opposite her sat a round-faced girl who was eating and talking non-stop.

Qin Yuzheng's footsteps were nailed to the carpet in the corridor.

Mu Cheng walked past him from behind, and noticing he hadn't followed, turned around and looked at him: "A-Zheng?"

Qin Yuzheng did not respond.

He stood beside the railing in the corridor, one hand resting on it, his fingers slightly clenched.

The light spilled up from the hall below, illuminating half of his face, while the other half remained hidden in the shadow of the pillars.

He looked down at the woman eating with her head down, his gaze as calm as a deep pool, yet something was churning beneath the surface.

Liu Minlan was the first to notice his unusual behavior; the way he looked at people was a mix of lust and determination.

Liu Minlan followed his gaze downwards.

In the lobby on the first floor, by the window, two young women were eating. One had a round face, and the other had her profile in profile.

The one with the round face is talking, her mouth opening and closing animatedly. The one with her profile is listening, nodding occasionally with very small movements.

Liu Minlan's gaze lingered on the person in profile for a moment.

Then he walked over to Qin Yuzheng, raised his hand, and patted Qin Yuzheng's shoulder lightly.