Chapter Two: Poor Complexion

“Say, why do you look even more under the weather than I do?” Wu Ming, sitting in the passenger seat, glanced up at Little Fatty and felt as if his friend’s face had turned ashen, with a faint swirl of dark energy above his head. Perhaps it was just his imagination.

“Nonsense! I’m in great shape!” Little Fatty flipped down the sun visor’s mirror and checked his reflection, flashing a row of white teeth—though a stray piece of some unknown vegetable was stuck between them.

He hurriedly grabbed a toothpick and a napkin to clean up, then complained with a gloomy look, “No wonder Xiao Mei kept smiling at me all morning. I thought I’d finally made a good impression! What a disaster—my image as a dazzling gentleman is ruined! If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bought that seaweed rice ball for breakfast. But it just looked so tasty!”

“So, where are we eating?” Little Fatty started the car.

“Let’s just go to Shaxian—I’m broke,” Wu Ming said, absently rubbing a thin copper mirror, trying to polish the dust-clouded surface with his breath.

“No more Shaxian! I’ll treat you to hotpot! Remember that cute waitress there?” Little Fatty’s eyes sparkled, his words tumbling out in excitement. “You know, the one with that magical sauce or whatever!”

“You mean Magic Hat? Suit yourself. Don’t tell me you really like that little waitress in the cowboy hat? If I remember right, she’s kind of flat-chested.”

“Yeah, that’s the one! She’s got such a sweet, girlish voice too!” Little Fatty was getting more animated by the second.

“I thought you liked the mature, commanding types like Xiao Mei. Lost your confidence already?” Wu Ming teased, deliberately poking at the sore spot.

“Big sisters, little sisters—they’re all my type! I’m still single, aren’t I? If there’s a good dish, I have to at least give it a try!” Little Fatty shamelessly compared himself to a pig, leaving Wu Ming speechless.

In the midst of their banter, they arrived at the hotpot place called Magic Hat. Little Fatty went to park the car while Wu Ming headed inside to find a seat. Following a beautiful waitress, he settled into a quiet corner—his favorite spot wherever he went, always preferring to be an unnoticed observer of “other people’s performances.”

Soon after, Little Fatty came in, led by none other than his favorite little waitress. He was over the moon, muttering, “Fate! This is definitely fate. Maybe this girl and I are meant to be?”

His shifty, greedy eyes were glued to the enticing S-curve of the waitress ahead, nearly drooling as he watched her hips sway with each step, barely resisting the urge to reach out and touch.

“You’re really pretty, you know. Could I get your WeChat?” Little Fatty tried his best to look suave, tossing his head as if flicking back a mane of hair.

“I’m sorry, sir, but it’s company policy—no personal matters during work hours,” the little waitress replied, bowing slightly with a faint blush on her cheeks.

“Oh my, she’s just too adorable! Her chest might not be big, but it’s nicely shaped, and her hips—so round and full! My mom always said, ‘Big hips mean you’ll have lots of sons!’” Little Fatty thought to himself, growing more and more satisfied with what he saw, completely forgetting about the Xiao Mei he’d chased for a year without success.

“Over here, Little Fatty!” Wu Ming called, waving him over.

“Call me Mr. Kuai! What’s with ‘Little Fatty’?” he said, putting on a serious face.

“Alright, Little Fatty—Mr. Kuai, this way. I’ve already ordered the soup base for you. Go mix your own dipping sauce!” Wu Ming replied, giving a mock bow.

The waitress couldn’t help but laugh, letting out a little snort.

Little Fatty was transfixed—her smile was enchanting, captivating him so thoroughly that he felt he’d never escape her charm.

“She’s gorgeous…” he murmured, mouth agape, a slender thread of drool actually trailing from his lips.

“Go get your sauce, Kuai Fatty! Goodness, where’s your soul gone?” Wu Ming waved the sauce tray in front of him, snapping him out of his daze.

“What are you doing, Wu Ming? You startled me!” Little Fatty snatched the sauce tray and skipped over to the waitress, ingratiatingly saying, “Miss, your single-serve hotpot here is fantastic—especially the sauce, it’s magical!”

“By the way, which sauce do you recommend?”

“All of our sauces are pretty unique in their own way…” she replied patiently, clearly used to such questions.

Wu Ming paid no attention to Little Fatty’s attempts to flirt, focusing solely on satisfying his own hunger. While Wu Ming ate steadily, Little Fatty kept running back and forth to the waitress, pestering her until, exasperated but unable to refuse any longer, she finally gave him her WeChat. He even managed to get her personal details: Mo Mo, twenty-one, working here part-time during her vacation, five foot five, eighty-eight pounds. Her name sounded odd, reminiscent of a certain app, but who knew if it was real or not.