Chapter Seventeen: The Moment to Witness a Miracle

Song Fei’er had just reached the door when she paused again. Seeing her stop, Yang Le also halted, glancing at her with a questioning look.

“I think that watch looks nice. You should get yourself a wristwatch,” Song Fei’er said. In her view, every young man ought to own a watch—especially someone with Yang Le’s handsome features; it would only add to his charm.

“Let’s go have a look,” Yang Le replied, taking her suggestion to heart. It was about time he bought a watch. After all, it wouldn’t do for a man carrying a few million to not even wear one.

This was a perfectly normal thought. Most men want a watch—particularly one that suits them.

The watch counter was not far from the mall entrance, so Yang Le and Song Fei’er made their way over together.

“Hello, are you looking to buy a watch?” The sales assistant noticed them browsing and approached with a polite inquiry.

“Yes,” they both answered in unison.

“Are you two a couple? I can recommend a pair of Patek Philippe watches for couples,” the saleswoman said, sizing up the bags of Animar clothing in Yang Le’s hand and judging them likely customers for such luxury.

“Sure,” Yang Le replied nonchalantly. Fei’er had accompanied him all day—from cars to clothes, and now from clothes to watches. He figured it was only right to show his appreciation.

“A pair of Patek Philippes? You country bumpkin think you can afford that? Careful you don’t overdo it and ruin your kidneys,” Cao Xun interjected at just the right moment. He knew he couldn’t afford a pair himself; once, when out with an internet celebrity, she had her eye on this very watch, but when he saw the price, he backed down.

Cao Xun was just a high school senior, and his family strictly controlled his spending to keep him out of trouble—ten thousand a month for pocket money, half of which he spent tipping streamers. Of course, if something important came up, there were other funds. But if he couldn’t afford it, how could Yang Le?

“Could we see the watches, please?” Yang Le ignored Cao Xun and addressed the saleswoman instead.

“These two here—I think they suit your style perfectly…” the saleswoman began.

“Do you like them?” Yang Le asked Fei’er, not bothering with the sales pitch.

She nodded, a bit shy. Though she’d claimed Yang Le was her boyfriend earlier, being presented with a pair of matching watches made her bashful.

“No need for further introduction. Wrap them up, please. We’ll take these two,” Yang Le said directly. He liked the men’s model himself, and seeing Fei’er’s approval, he decided on the spot. Plus, he’d had enough of Cao Xun’s incessant sniping and didn’t want to stay in the same space with someone so petty.

“He didn’t even ask the price—trying too hard to show off,” Wu Qian sneered.

“Yeah, this country bumpkin really knows how to put on a front,” Sun Tao chimed in.

“King of show-offs, let me give you some advice: these aren’t like your Animar shirts you can get for a few thousand. This pair of watches can’t be settled so easily,” Cao Xun taunted, thrilled at the prospect of seeing Yang Le embarrassed.

“Sir, the price for this pair is 799,900 yuan. Are you sure you want them?” The saleswoman, influenced by the jeers, also began to doubt whether Yang Le could afford them and quoted the price.

Yang Le was startled by the sum, momentarily at a loss.

“We don’t want the watches,” Song Fei’er blurted out, dumbfounded by the price. It was simply too much; she didn’t dare accept such a gift.

“Fei’er, aren’t you his girlfriend? What’s wrong with him buying you a watch?” Cao Xun pressed, then turned to Yang Le: “You know, a real man keeps his word. If you can’t deliver, how can Fei’er trust you with her future?”

He was certain Yang Le couldn’t afford the watches and wanted to press the issue, holding Fei’er’s happiness over his head.

“Cao Xun, did you hear me say I’m not buying them, or is this just your imagination running wild? People shouldn’t live in their fantasies. It’s less than 800,000. I can afford it,” Yang Le retorted, finally losing patience. Was their only goal to see him fail?

He wanted to make it clear: since the day he learned of his father’s wealth, he’d never been humiliated again. Not that he cared to advertise it.

“Talk is cheap—let’s see the money. Stop blabbering and pay up!” Wu Qian scoffed, thinking Yang Le was bluffing.

“If you can afford those watches, I’ll eat shit,” Sun Tao declared. He’d watched Yang Le pay for clothes without hesitation, but now that a watch cost nearly 800,000, he was sure Yang Le was bluffing.

Their bickering drew a swelling crowd, three or four layers deep.

“He’s only a hundred short of 800,000. Do you think this kid can pay?” someone in the crowd asked.

The onlookers split into two camps—some believed Yang Le couldn’t afford the watches; others argued he could.

“If you’re willing to eat shit, let everyone bear witness. If I buy the watches, the esteemed Mr. Shit-Eater here will have to perform a miracle for us,” Yang Le declared, eliciting roars of laughter.

“Miss, please swipe my card and wrap up the watches,” Yang Le instructed, handing his card to the saleswoman.

“Sir, please enter your PIN,” she said, passing him the terminal after swiping his card.

Yang Le entered six digits. The computer chimed: “Payment successful!”

The saleswoman beamed and began carefully packaging the watches.

The crowd, having heard the payment confirmation, instantly united on one point: Sun Tao must eat shit.

“Go ahead, Mr. Shit-Eater! We’re all waiting. If you really do it, we’ll film and upload it—you’ll be an internet sensation, and all the influencer girls will want to make videos with you!”

Sun Tao had just sworn he’d eat shit if Yang Le bought the watches. Now that Yang Le had paid, the crowd demanded his performance.

“Sun Tao, what are you still doing here? Let’s go,” Cao Xun called, unable to watch any longer.

“Eat shit… eat shit… eat shit…” The crowd began chanting, voices growing ever louder, as if that alone would make Sun Tao follow through. Of course, he wouldn’t. Seizing a break in the commotion, he darted through a gap in the crowd, running as if his life depended on it.

As Sun Tao fled, the crowd jeered, then gradually dispersed.

The saleswoman finished the paperwork and respectfully handed the watches to Yang Le and Song Fei’er.

Song Fei’er still hesitated to accept the gift, but Yang Le gently coaxed her: “Fei’er, the watches are bought. We can’t return them now. Just take it.”

Blushing, she finally accepted.

She decided to tell her father about it that evening, planning to have him reimburse Yang Le for the cost.

As the two left the mall, Yang Le’s stomach rumbled. He’d only had a few buns that morning before heading to Fei’er’s house and now it was already past one in the afternoon—no wonder he was hungry.

They went to KFC for a meal, and only after Yang Le was thoroughly stuffed did they set off for the Mercedes-Benz dealership on Zhenxing Road.

With his barely adequate driving skills, Yang Le drove Fei’er back to Heping Garden, and then made his unsteady way home.

Back home, he considered how far his house was from school and decided to rent a place closer to campus.

To practice his driving, he headed to the apartment buildings near the school. After parking, he saw a rental ad posted on the notice board: three bedrooms and a living room, looking for a roommate. He dialed the number.

“Hello, who is this?” The voice on the other end was a girl’s—just from her tone, Yang Le imagined she must be attractive.

“I’m calling about the apartment. I saw your ad and thought I’d reach out,” Yang Le explained.

“You can rent, but there are already two of us—and we’re both girls. If you want to share, we’ll need to meet first. If we get along, we’ll let you move in,” she said. The real reason was simple: they wanted to see if the new roommate was good-looking. If he met their standards, then he’d get the room.

“Where shall we meet?” Yang Le asked. He was actually quite looking forward to sharing a place with girls.

“There’s a little café in the complex. Wait for us there—we’ll come by soon,” the girl replied, giving him the location.

“Alright,” Yang Le agreed, wondering if he’d have to wait as long as he had for Song Fei’er.

He took a seat inside and had just received his coffee when two vibrant, pretty young women walked through the door.