Chapter 13 — Give up the wedding car, cancel the marriage

Right in front of the apartment complex's convenience store. I saw a familiar figure. It's Chu T. Tu Ngang. He wore an old T-shirt that had been washed until it was discolored, his hair was dirty, and his figure was obese. Hand carrying a bag of frozen dumplings on sale. He bowed his head and argued something with the cashier. It seems to be because of the difference of a few coins. At that moment, I almost didn't even recognize him. The years of May have left devastating marks on his body. He seemed to feel my gaze and raised his head. Our eyes, through the car window, met. In his eyes, at first there was confusion, then surprise, and finally sleaze and shame that could not be hidden. By reflex, he quickly hid the bag of cheap dumplings behind his back. I don't shy away. Just calmly looked at him. Then I hit the gas. The white Porsche passed by him, quiet and steady, leaving not a speck of dust. In the rearview mirror, his figure became smaller and smaller, eventually turning into a faint dot. The car radio was playing a song on time. It's the song "Happy Farewell" by Luong Tinh Nhu. *”Happy farewell, have fun, you will find someone better…”* I turned off the radio. Open the car window. The wind blew in, bringing with it the scent of early summer. I suddenly thought, I don't need to wish him well. I just need myself to be happy, that's enough. I took the phone and called a number. It was the French bank manager who pursued me vigorously in Paris. The other end of the line picked up: "Hello?"
“Leo, c’est moi.” (Leo, it's me.)
I smiled: "I'm free this weekend, let's go have dinner?" HEAT