Chapter 413: Think I’m Dirty?

"How much are the roujiamo?"

This was the first time he had ever spoken to Donna Thorne. His voice was completely unfamiliar to her, and she instinctively stood up to look at him.

"Eight yuan for one with both meat and egg, seven for just meat, and six for just egg..."

She was smiling at him; Brandon Jacobs could see the corners of her eyes crinkle.

But before she could finish, her smile vanished as she got a clear look at Brandon Jacobs’s face.

She recognized him.

Their eyes met, and Brandon Jacobs could see a mix of complex emotions in hers.

"Can I ask what’s the most you sell in a day?"

Donna hadn’t seen him in a long time.

Being watched by the same person, from the same spot, for over a month straight had become something of a routine.

So when he suddenly disappeared one day, she had felt a surprising pang of disappointment.

She had just started getting over it these past few days, and now, unexpectedly, he had reappeared.

He hadn’t said a word, but Donna could feel that he was here for her.

She didn’t know what he wanted, but she didn’t find his presence unwelcome.

So she answered honestly, "It varies. I prepare a hundred, and I go home whether I sell out or not."

Brandon Jacobs nodded, took out his phone, scanned her QR code, and transferred two thousand yuan.

"Pack it up for the day."

Donna was confused. She had no idea what would happen next now that he’d told her to close up early, but looking at Brandon’s handsome face, she obediently put the lids on her containers and stored them under the seat of her tricycle.

"And then?"

"Take your things home."

Brandon didn’t know what he wanted to do next, either. He had just told her to pack up and take her things home.

He just felt that he owed her an apology.

During his days back in Veridia, the image of her being harassed by that man while everyone else laughed had replayed endlessly in his mind.

He hadn’t stepped in to help, and his conscience had been bothering him ever since. On top of that, he had heard today that she’d been fired.

The girl got onto her tricycle. Seeing Brandon Jacobs just standing there, she patted the spot beside her.

"Want a ride?"

Brandon sat down beside her. They wound through a maze of alleyways until they arrived at an old, run-down apartment building.

Donna pulled out the key. "This is my place. Wait here, I’ll take my things upstairs."

Brandon got off the tricycle and asked instinctively.

"Which floor do you live on?"

"The fifth floor."

"I’ll help you carry it."

"No, that’s okay. The stairwell is really narrow, you wouldn’t be used to it. Besides, there are people home. It wouldn’t be good if they saw you."

As she spoke, she lifted down the steaming aluminum pot.

The pot was piping hot and looked incredibly heavy, as if one wrong move could cause a burn that would split the skin.

But her chopstick-thin arms were surprisingly strong. She held it steady in mid-air and carried it upstairs in one go.

Brandon stood in place, listening to the THUMP-THUMP-THUMP of her footsteps going up the stairs, and then THUMP-THUMP-THUMP back down.

She pulled out the gas canister, hoisted it onto her shoulder, and THUMP-THUMP-THUMP, went up the stairs again.

Then came the various side ingredients from under the seat.

She made three trips in a row. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, but she didn’t even pause to rest. She pushed the tricycle into a corner, took a clear plastic sheet from under the seat to cover it, and only then did she return to him.

"Have I kept you waiting long? What did you want to see me for?"

Brandon saw vitality in her.

It was a quiet, almost listless sort of vitality, but it was vitality nonetheless.

Watching the beads of sweat on her skin, he couldn’t help but wonder: ’If Elsa had been like her, would she still have chosen to leave the way she did?’

"I don’t know. I’m not familiar with Seacliff. Is there anywhere you’d like to go?"

Donna was visibly surprised. She hadn’t expected him to be from out of town, but she didn’t press for details.

"How about a trip to the seaside?"

The coast was a bit far from there, so she asked Brandon if he would mind riding in her tricycle.

It wasn’t that Brandon minded, but it would mean being too close to her, and he wasn’t used to that.

"I drove."

He strode off with long steps, and Donna followed a few paces behind him to his car.

Because he had parked too close to the green belt, the passenger door wouldn’t open, so Donna had to get in the back seat.

Brandon didn’t say anything. He drove in silence, and after a while, the glittering surface of the sea came into view.

He didn’t get out, just lowered the window and stared blankly at the ocean. Donna, in turn, stared blankly at his face.

Of all the men she had ever known, he was the most silent, the one who spoke the least. It had taken them over two months to finally have a conversation.

He watched her every day, even paid for her to close up shop early, yet now that they were finally somewhere with no one else around, he still wasn’t talking.

Donna could tell something was on his mind, but she had no idea what it could be.

She didn’t know how long they sat there. The sea breeze began to feel a bit chilly before Brandon finally snapped out of his trance, rolled up the window, and got out of the car.

He stood before the guardrail, facing the wind. The evening breeze pressed his white shirt tight against his body and made his pant legs flutter.

His dark, impeccably styled hair also danced in the night wind.

His entire being exuded a captivating aura of depth and melancholy.

Donna didn’t know what she could do for him. She slowly approached and wrapped her arms around his waist.

She could feel Brandon’s body go rigid in an instant.

She thought he might have feelings for her and was about to feel a surge of happiness when Brandon suddenly, roughly, pried her hands away and shoved her aside.

Donna nearly crashed into the guardrail. She froze, stunned.

But seeing his deeply furrowed brow, she quickly understood.

"What? Am I too dirty for you?"

"Since you managed to find me, you must have gone to the garment district asking about me. Did you hear about my ’glorious’ history?"

’She’s much better looking when she doesn’t smile. That smirk on her face is hideous.’ Brandon averted his gaze.

Donna continued to sneer. "If you think I’m so dirty, why did you even bother looking for me? It must mean you still wanted to see me. Why? Because I look like some old acquaintance of yours? Well, I’m truly sorry about that. It must be so painful for you, seeing someone who looks just like her doing things that disgust you, right?"

It was, in fact, extremely painful.

He hadn’t wanted to believe what those people said. Because she had a face so similar to Elsa’s, Brandon had wanted to believe in her character unconditionally.

But for her to embrace him so casually... Brandon was disgusted.

He didn’t speak, his brow still furrowed in a silent admission to everything Donna had said. Her sneer faded.

She took out her phone. "Open your payment code. I’m sending your money back."

She wasn’t that desperate for money.

If he was so disgusted by her, there was no way she would take advantage of him.

Brandon stared at her face, which had returned to its usual cold expression. He didn’t move, suddenly feeling that his actions had been far too cruel.

No matter what, she was still a woman.

"You don’t have to. I’m not short on cash."

"It doesn’t matter if you’re short on cash or not, I won’t just take your money. I won’t accept money I haven’t earned. If you really won’t take it back, then I’ll just have to take my clothes off."

Brandon, "..."