Calvin was pretty sure that Virgilli's pickling skills were very poor.

Dozens of minutes later, he and Vicili sat awkwardly in a dining room called Rahovi, looking at each other across a small round table covered with a snow-white tablecloth. (The reason he didn't know the restaurant's specific name was because the sign was a line of damn French.)

Calvin wore an old T-shirt with a slogan that had fallen off and mottled from too many washes, and his jeans had rounded bumps at the knees, which were not fashionable in any sense of the word.

And this restaurant, like all fine French restaurants, has that sophisticated atmosphere that can easily make people suffer from stomach ulcers. Warm lighting envelops the champagne-colored lights over the men and women like stage spotlights, and diners can barely perceive the dimness of the entire restaurant. The melody of the violin floats through the air like mist, accompanied by the occasional clashing of glasses and an almost inaudible whisper. Both the hostesses and hostesses were emaciated and pale like mild hunger strikers, with all white blonde hair, white shirts, black bow ties, and a slight bow bow when talking to Virgilli.

Calvin watched with a blank face as Vigili communicated with the hostess in French, and then he looked down at the menu that had been delivered to him, fucking French.

It felt ridiculous, as if all of a sudden the whole world of English speakers had gone extinct—he thought boredly, and then tried to ignore the gaze that fell on him (though it was extraordinarily secretive).

Calvin hated being the center of attention, but there was nothing he could do about it in this moment—his outfit was too out of place for the whole restaurant. And after "intimately" helping Calvin figure out what the hell on the menu was, Vicili turned his head and spoke to Calvin with a worried face.

"You don't look good, are you feeling unwell?"

The corners of Calvin's mouth twitched.

"I just don't really like this kind of place. ”

He said dryly, and as the words fell, Vigilli's gaze quickly dimmed.

"Ahh ”

Virgili cautiously tried to redeem himself.

Calvin raised an eyebrow, and Vicili's innocent expression made him finally decide to shut up and say nothing.

It may have the best French food here – but it's not the place I should be.

Calvin thought to himself.

If it weren't for Vigilli, this was a place he would never have set foot in for the rest of his life. If he had to choose, he would prefer to sit in a 24-hour drive-in restaurant and eat a scrambled egg and frozen waffles with too many artificial flavors.

In fact, the dish served by the waiter afterwards made Calvin firm his mind that the so-called best foie gras caviar with beet jelly tasted like fat and jelly with a strange smell wrapped in a hazel film. To tell the truth, Calvin thought that the dinner that Heath had prepared for him the night before was ten thousand times better than the bird food. And even with all the food stuffed into his stomach, Calvin could still feel the emptiness in his stomach. (The grapefruit for the side dish was sour as if it had just grown out of the ground), and he subconsciously touched his pocket, an inexplicable anxiety that made him desperate to get himself a cigarette.

"I think I should go out for a bit. ”

He said to Vickyli.

Without waiting for Vigilli to answer him, he pushed his chair away and stood up. The chair made a piercing "creaking" sound on the beautiful walnut floor, which attracted almost everyone's attention. The diners turned their heads in shock, looking in Calvin's direction, and when they saw Calvin's old T-shirt and jeans, they twisted their heads back in unison as if their eyes were burned.

Calvin ran his palms back the hair that had slid down to his cheeks. That's why he doesn't like fine dining, where people can even be scared half to death by a guy in an old T-shirt and jeans – Calvin almost laughs.

He stumbled towards the door, and Vicili whispered behind him that the restaurant offered a smoking room, but Calvin just shrugged his shoulders and pretended he hadn't heard (he could swear with the lump of jelly he had just eaten wouldn't be his liking). However, as he approached the gate, Calvin involuntarily stopped when he caught a glimpse of two people in his peripheral vision.

It was a father and daughter sitting in the corner—if it were a passer-by who saw those two men, they would probably think.

The "father" man is approaching fifty, with a slightly fat body in a charcoal gray suit and tie, his hair neatly combed, and cleverly concealing the loss of the top part of his head (which is clearly a haircut in a high-end salon). Sitting across from him was a teenage girl who wore a beautiful red dress with unkempt ginger curls tied with a bow of the same color as the skirt.

They sat across from each other at a small white round table, with a huge round plate in front of them, containing food that was inversely proportional to the size of the plate. The little girl kept her head down, and she clutched her fork a little awkwardly, picking and turning among the beet leaves that had been carefully trimmed to the same size. The gentleman had been gazing at the little girl tenderly, as if he had not been offended by the latter's uneducated behavior.

Calvin's brow was tightly locked.

He ignored the attendant who had opened the door for him, and turned straight towards the table.

"Sir?!"

A male waiter was startled, and he panicked after Calvin.

Calvin ignored him, his eyes fixed on the girl with her head down.

"Isha?!"

He shouted.

The girl immediately raised her head, and her eyes instantly brightened when she saw Calvin.

"Calvin!"

She happily shouted at Calvin in a voice that shouldn't have been in the restaurant. She then jumped out of her chair and rushed to Calvin like a rabbit.

Calvin didn't mistake her, the girl was Isha.

"Why are you here?"

She tilted her head, grinned at Calvin, and asked.

However, Calvin's face became even more ugly in the face of Isa's smile, and he frowned and moved his gaze from Isa to the middle-aged man on the other side of the round table.

"I should have asked you. ”

Calvin said to Isha, but his gaze never took off the face of the middle-aged man, who widened his eyes in Calvin's direction in shock, apparently not expecting to meet someone he knew in the dining room.

"Sir, do you know each other?"

The waiter, who was clinging to Calvin, nervously looked back and forth between Calvin and the man, and asked.

Oh, and he can speak English by this time.

If it weren't for the extreme tension, Calvin would almost have been tempted to be sarcastic.

The aura emanating from Calvin's body was cold and sharp, and the male waiter took a step forward in fear, just right to block the man and Calvin.

"Sir, perhaps you would like to move to a larger table with this gentleman and the little lady?"

The waiter spoke tentatively. As a waiter in a fancy restaurant, the last thing he likes to face is the possibility of a brawl – after all, there shouldn't be a brawl in a French restaurant.

"Isa?"

Once again, Calvin ignored the rapping waiter, and he watched Isha's expression carefully, and the more he looked at it, the heavier his heart became.

When she first met Calvin, Isa's joy was not pretended, it was a joy that could not be concealed after seeing a savior in the midst of suffering. Similarly, the stiffness and panic on Isa's face after Calvin's questioning could not be concealed.

"Uh......"

The girl made a nonsensical sound, and Calvin knew it was because she was trying to piece together a lie that would make sense.

It was as if a cold, dark hand had suddenly seized Calvin's heart. A well-dressed man, a girl from a slum, suddenly shows up for lunch in a fancy restaurant?

Past experiences have given Calvin no way to let his guard down on certain things. At this moment, the memories that were churning in his mind almost made him unable to control his violent rage.

"Where's your mother?"

He continued to stare coldly into Isa's eyes and asked.

"Sir, I'm sorry if you guys have any questions......"

The waiter's face was even worse.

On the contrary, the middle-aged man who was a little panicked before became sharp after reacting.

"I'm sorry, I don't know who you are, but you've apparently disturbed my meal with Isha - and you don't have the right to ask a girl where her mother is. ”

He said coldly to Calvin.

"Calvin, what's going on?"

I don't know when, Vigilli also came to Calvin's side. He nodded slightly to the sweaty waiter, who quickly stepped back and gave him a seat at Calvin's side.

Vicky pretended not to care and grabbed Calvin's wrist. After seeing Isa's face, he froze slightly, then smiled at her. And when he saw the delicate cufflinks pinned to the cuffs of the middle-aged man, a trace of darkness quickly flashed under his eyes.

"Calm down, Calvin. ”

Vicili brought his lips to Calvin's ear and whispered. From this angle, he could see the green tendons that Calvin was bursting out of his neck because of his emotion. Virgili blinked, licking his lips uncontrollably.

"My mom, she-"

Isha bowed her head in embarrassment under Calvin's gaze, and she answered Calvin's question with some stiffness, only to be interrupted by a hoarse female voice.

"Oh my God, am I drunk? Why do I see public male prostitutes in nasty bars here?"

Calvin turned his head abruptly, and with some shock, saw Isa's mother, Madeleine, appear behind him. 166 Reading Network