Chapter 20 (2/2): Sant Jordi

Every step she took was for her family’s reputation. 

Let alone lovers— even her friends were carefully screened by Guan Zhiheng, in case anyone approached her with ulterior motives.

On Hong Kong Island, most wealthy families’ prenuptial agreements were dozens of pages thick, each clause coldly anticipating the end of marriage.

Love? For people from families like theirs, it was all too illusory.

–

The island was some distance from the city center of Barcelona. After the helicopter landed, the two took a private car back the way they came. 

By the time they returned to the city center, it was already half past two in the afternoon.

Barcelona seemed different today.

In fact, Guan Yingtang had noticed as soon as they entered the city: the whole place was decorated with roses. 

Skyscrapers, shops, even roadside fences— everywhere you looked, there were roses.

Besides the flowers, there were also many book stalls on the streets and alleys. Pedestrians walked along with either a flower in hand or a book.

Their car stopped at the entrance of a mall.

ZOE, a PR staff member from the branch office, had been waiting there for half an hour. 

Her task today was to accompany Mr. Meng’s companion, a lady named Miss Yi.

“If you’re bored or don’t want to wait, let ZOE take you back to the hotel,” Meng Qinghuai said to Guan Yingtang before getting out.

Guan Yingtang nodded. In fact, when it came to taking care of her, Meng Qinghuai was always impeccable.

ZOE, who came to meet Guan Yingtang, was a woman around 30, a local Spaniard who spoke fluent English.

She also brought a bodyguard— partly for Guan Yingtang’s safety, partly because if she shopped a lot, it’d be handy to have a man carry the bags.

They were now in the largest luxury mall in Barcelona. 

Meng Qinghuai had already told ZOE that anything Guan Yingtang fancied, she could just charge to his account.

But to ZOE’s surprise, Guan Yingtang showed no desire to shop.

Instead, she was fascinated by the flower walls in the mall, taking many photos there before finally remembering to ask ZOE, “Why is today all about flowers and books?”

ZOE was surprised that Guan Yingtang didn’t know about today. She’d thought that Mr. Meng brought this beautiful lady to Barcelona precisely for this special day.

“Miss Yi,” ZOE explained, “today is Spain’s Valentine’s Day— Sant Jordi.”

Guan Yingtang was curious, “Valentine’s Day?”

“Yes.”

Compared to the widely known February 14th Valentine’s Day, Sant Jordi is Spain’s own unique day for lovers.

ZOE told Guan Yingtang the old legend behind the holiday: Once upon a time, a Dragon terrorized a village and tried to take the Princess as a sacrifice. 

Later, a man named Saint George stepped forward, slew the Dragon, and saved the Princess. 

The rose that grew from the Dragon’s blood became a symbol of their love.

Since then, April 23rd has been Barcelona’s Valentine’s Day.

On this day, the whole city celebrates love. Men give roses to women, and if the woman gives back a book, it means she likes him too.

…So that’s how it is.

Guan Yingtang looked thoughtfully at the roses decorating every corner of the mall, wandering as she watched, thinking as she watched. 

For some reason, she suddenly thought of Meng Qinghuai.

She realized she had unconsciously placed her hopes on someone.

No—

Guan Yingtang immediately forced herself to stop these unnecessary fantasies.

“Miss Yi,” ZOE pointed to a writer’s signing booth in the distance, “or, do you want to buy a book for someone?”

As dusk approached, Meng Qinghuai finally finished his hard-to-decline meeting. 

The supplier, who had flown in from Finland, was a 62-year-old man who had brought a fine vintage from his own winery as a gift for Meng Songnian.

He was so enthusiastic it was impossible to refuse.

After checking in with ZOE, Meng Qinghuai picked up Guan Yingtang. 

It was just about dinner time, so the two of them took a car to dinner.

It was a famous restaurant in Barcelona, yet on a special day like Sant Jordi, it was surprisingly empty.

Guan Yingtang couldn’t help but wonder— do the locals not eat on holidays?

The restaurant’s décor matched the city’s festive mood, but was even more refined and romantic. 

For example, the flower walls were surrounded by candleholders of varying heights, and every dish was plated with a few delicate rose petals.

Candlelight shimmered over the sea of flowers. Compared to the lively streets outside, the restaurant had its own charm.

Once seated, Meng Qinghuai noticed her empty hands and asked, “Didn’t buy anything?”

Guan Yingtang shook her head.

What could compare to the fun of today’s festival? 

She’d spent the whole afternoon wandering through the bustling stalls, watching couples hug and kiss, seeing strangers hand out flowers, and taking lots of interesting photos.

As she ate, Guan Yingtang thought for a while, then couldn’t help asking, “Do you know what today is…“

“What?”

She’d wanted to talk with Meng Qinghuai about today’s Valentine’s Day, about the tradition of exchanging gifts, but then she felt that bringing up such an ambiguous holiday would seem like she was asking him for something.

She reminded herself— they were married, not lovers.

Forget it.

“…Today, ZOE told me a lot of stories about Barcelona,” Guan Yingtang changed the subject.

“Really.”

“Mm.” Guan Yingtang smoothly steered the conversation away. “Are you done with work? When are we heading back to Guangzhou?”

Meng Qinghuai gave a soft “Mm,” “Tomorrow.”

As soon as he finished speaking, screams came from downstairs. 

Both of them looked out the window. It turned out a young man was dancing a flash mob with friends for his beloved girl. 

When the song ended, he knelt on one knee and presented her a rose, drawing cheers from the crowd.

Guan Yingtang watched for quite a while. When she turned to see Meng Qinghuai’s reaction, she found he seemed uninterested, his gaze already withdrawn.

The light in her eyes dimmed, her shoulders slumped, and she quietly went back to eating.

Dinner ended at 8 p.m.

Even though night had fallen, the festive atmosphere was undiminished. 

There were even more people in the streets— men, women, old and young— all holding a rose.

It made Guan Yingtang feel that in Barcelona tonight, even a stray dog would be given a flower.

Except her.

When they went down to the restaurant entrance to wait for the driver, a local woman suddenly approached Meng Qinghuai with a basket of flowers, asking if he wanted to buy one for Guan Yingtang.

Meng Qinghuai paused, turned to look at Guan Yingtang.

Their eyes met, and for some reason, Guan Yingtang suddenly blushed. 

She pretended not to care, looking elsewhere, her heart pounding, unwilling to admit—

She wanted to receive a flower too.

Yes, just like any random passerby— a single flower was enough.

In the midst of this citywide celebration, she didn’t want to be the one ignored and forgotten.

She was Guan Yingtang, the Number One Heiress of Hong Kong Island. 

If this festival were held in Hong Kong, the flowers she’d receive could pile from Tsim Sha Tsui to Tai Po.

Since he’d brought her to experience a honeymoon, was it really so hard to buy a €1 flower?

Meng, hurry up and give it to me!

Give it to me and you’ll be the best husband!

Come on!

Like a shy young girl, Guan Yingtang’s heart was filled with anticipation. But the next second, she heard Meng Qinghuai’s indifferent voice:

“No need, thank you.”

……

Guan Yingtang blinked slowly, too shocked to believe it was real.

But it was.

The driver pulled up just then. Meng Qinghuai gently opened the car door for Guan Yingtang, as if the flower incident had never happened.

Guan Yingtang couldn’t believe it—

Even if today wasn’t a holiday, was it right to refuse to give her a flower to her face?

Was it?

“What are you thinking?” On the way back to the hotel, Meng Qinghuai even had the nerve to ask.

Guan Yingtang said nothing.

After a while, she replied gloomily, “Nothing, just a bit tired.”

“Then get some rest when we get back.”

“……”

Rest?

Guan Yingtang thought she might be too angry to sleep tonight.

She sat upright, arms crossed, a breath stuck in her chest, about to suffocate from holding it in.

After a while, she almost laughed at herself, flicked her hair, and tried to comfort herself—

It’s just a stupid flower, what’s there to be upset about.

Neither of them spoke again on the way. When they arrived at the hotel, Meng Qinghuai’s phone suddenly rang.

He stopped at the door to take the call, while the still-fuming Guan Yingtang kept her head down and headed straight for the bedroom she’d slept in the night before.

She closed the door, leaned against it, and took a few deep breaths, trying to dispel her frustration and disappointment.

The balcony window was open, and the salty, damp sea breeze drifted in, carrying a faint fragrance.

Guan Yingtang walked further into the room, but suddenly stopped, drawn by that scent.

It was as if she sensed something, and instinctively looked up—

The white gauze curtains were billowing in the sea breeze. 

Beneath the warm yellow light of the bedroom, a bouquet of roses stood, fresh and vibrant, on the table.