"Miss Shen, I hear you run your own shop?"
In the bright, spacious Western restaurant, the man on the blind date sat rigidly in his tailored suit, his tone laced with unintentional arrogance.
"Mm." Iris Shen took a sip of warm water and smiled gently.
"You don't have a real job?" he pressed.
"Isn't a flower shop a job?" she replied lightly, eyes lowered, cutting her steak with quiet focus.
"Please don't misunderstand—I would never look down on you." He paused self-righteously. "But running a shop must be exhausting, right? No holidays. If we marry in the future, who will look after the children? Who will manage the household? You know I earn several hundred thousand a year—I obviously don't have the time for such trivial matters…"
Iris sliced off a piece of steak and interrupted him. "Sir, I don't recall ever intending to marry you."
"Miss Shen," he gave her a look that clearly meant drop the act, "I don't believe you'll find a better couple than me. Besides…"
He cast what he thought was a discreet glance at her ear, where a tiny red hearing aid rested, and declared generously, "I can even tolerate your physical… flaws."
"But I can't."
Finishing her last bite, Iris set a timer on her phone. "I can't tolerate people whose brains are flawed."
"You—" He frowned sharply. "You are so rude."
If she weren't as beautiful as she was, he would have already ended the date.
To Iris Shen, the man was unbearably pretentious.
She should never have trusted Madam Shen An's taste in men.
At that moment, her phone alarm rang.
Iris picked it up, signed two quick gestures at him—
Idiot. Goodbye.
"What does that mean?" he asked, confused.
"You don't even understand that?" She lifted her phone. "I said, excuse me, I need to take a call."
She deliberately raised her voice.
"Oh, dear, you have a meeting this week? Alright, alright. I'll pick you up at the airport."
Half a minute later, she slipped her phone into her bag and began gathering her things.
"Sir, our blind date ends here. I need to return to my shop. I wish you luck finding someone who loves working, and can tolerate your… less-than-functional brain."
Her only good mood today came from wearing a very lovely makeup look.
The man, of course, caught her insinuation.
A thin anger cracked his gentlemanly façade as he sneered,
"Are all disabled people this sensitive? I've been extremely accommodating. At least I didn't ask whether your deafness will be passed on to your children."
For a moment, Iris truly wanted to throw her water in his face.
But it felt undignified.
She held back, picked up her bag, and turned to leave—only to have her wrist yanked back.
He glared, confused and indignant. "Aren't you going to apologize to me?"
Apologize, my ass.
Calmly, she said, "My immediate priority is to go online and seek advice."
"What?"
"To ask the internet what to do when you encounter an extraordinary jerk on a blind date."
She lowered her gaze, wanting to chop off the hand gripping her wrist. "Let go."
"Apologize," he demanded.
"You're the one who should be apologizing." She frowned and tried to jerk free.
His grip only tightened, brutally crushing her wrist.
Iris seized the water on the table and splashed it into his face.
"Let go!" she raised her voice, sharp and forceful.
He hadn't expected it, and water drenched him completely.
Fury erupted.
The next second, his other hand lifted high—
She was trapped, unable to dodge.
She closed her eyes, raised her free hand to shield herself, and turned her face aside.
She gritted her teeth, ready to slap him back the instant his hand landed.
But the slap never came.
Instead, she heard a voice—familiar, distant, one that had only ever appeared in her dreams.
"Sir, I suggest you calm down."
Iris opened her eyes, momentarily dazed.
She blinked slowly, then looked up—
And saw the profile of a man who had only grown sharper, more refined with time.
He held the man's raised arm firmly, and turned slightly.
"Are you alright?" he asked her.
And just like that, Iris met his eyes—completely unprepared.
She still had the clarity to think:
This is probably the first time I've ever truly looked him in the eye.
Cold, distant eyes.
In such an embarrassing situation.
She lowered her gaze and shook her head gently. "I'm fine."
Adrian Hale noticed the angry red marks on her wrist still locked in the man's grip.
His own grip tightened.
"Let her go," he said icily.
"Who the hell are you? Who told you to interfere?" the man snarled through pain.
"Let go," Adrian Hale repeated, even colder.
A sharp pain shot up the man's arm—almost enough to crush bone—forcing him to release her at last.
"What now?" he sneered, rubbing his arm, eyes darting between them. "Got a lover but still came on a blind date?"
Adrian Hale frowned, ready to retort—
But the girl beside him spoke first, soft and quick:
"No, we don't know each other."
He looked down. Her eyes were reddened, lips pressed tight as if holding back tears.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
"Mm." She rubbed her wrist continuously. "It hurts."
Before he could say more, a woman's voice interrupted.
"Adrian, what happened?"
A stunning woman with red lipstick approached elegantly, standing beside him.
Passing her the red shawl in his hand, Adrian Hale said, "Just a minor incident."
"Oh?" Chen Qingqing frowned at Iris's red wrist, then shot a sharp glare at the man. "Someone bullied the pretty girl?"
"No," Iris said quickly. Her face had already returned to calm. She lifted her head and smiled. "But thank you for your concern, beautiful sister."
Then she turned to Adrian Hale, her dark eyes clear.
"Thank you," she said sincerely.
Before either could respond, she grabbed her bag, ignored the blind date's glare, and nodded politely.
"I have things to attend to. I'll be leaving first."
As she walked toward the door, she overheard two remarks from Adrian Hale.
To the blind date—
"Look again, and I'll gouge your eyes out."
And to the woman beside him—
"You know that girl?"
"No. Never seen her. Just happened to cross paths."
Both spoken in that same calm, detached tone.