I'm Just Getting Your Luck - Chapter 11
People were waiting for you here!
While riding the subway, Yingyu caught a glimpse of the newest movie trailer playing on the screen inside the carriage.
For romance films, the tagline was simple and direct: “In spring, watch the movies you love with the people you love!”
Yingyu nodded thoughtfully, then bought tickets for a double feature of horror films.
Watching others fall in love felt dull; horror movies were better for stirring up real emotions.
Before she could reach out to Zhou Chenyi, a message popped up in her family chat group.
Calling it a “family group” was generous—it only came alive when criticizing Yingyu. Otherwise, no one spoke there.
They had arranged a blind date for her.
Dad: [The job you did at the Demon Management Bureau is embarrassing enough. I heard from Lotus that you even went to the human world?]
Yingyu: [Do you care where I go? It took me so long to come to the human world, and now you’re questioning me.]
Mom: [Dad cares about you. Why do you always twist what we say? The person we found for you comes from a good family. We understand your personality. He’s honest, tall, and financially stable.]
Yingyu: [I already like someone else.]
Dad sent a voice message angrily: “You, a girl, running after boys all day—it’s shameful! You won’t understand until Friday. Don’t force me to come to the human world to find you!”
After two days of this nonsense, Yingyu quit the group chat and buried her face on her desk for hours.
Tresser slid her chair closer: “What’s wrong, Xiaoyingying? Feeling down? Tomorrow’s Saturday, want to go out and relax?”
Yingyu shook her head: “Family stuff.”
It was hard for a straightforward person like her to ignore family duties, but Tresser didn’t push.
“I go run when I’m upset, but that probably won’t help you.”
“Run?” Yingyu wasn’t interested. “I don’t feel like moving.”
Tresser leaned in close and whispered: “No, not running outside—exercise in bed. You don’t even need to move. Try it when you find someone you like.”
“Make sure they’re young, fit, and good at it,” Cui Se teased, noticing Yingyu’s clueless expression. She sent a WeChat link: “Watch this at home, but keep the volume down so neighbors don’t notice.”
Yingyu was still gloomy.
Usually a bright and warm spirit, Yingyu now seemed like a dim lamp. Tresser couldn’t help but pat her head.
Suddenly Yingyu’s phone rang—it was from security.
“Ms. Ying, a man says he’s the one your family arranged for you and is waiting at the front desk. Do you know him?”
They really were chasing her down.
It must have been Cheng Lianhua reporting.
“I’ll come down now.”
—
At the coffee shop downstairs:
Yingyu ordered a hot milk drink, marveling at human technology that could make one person look so different from another.
He looked handsome in his photo, but in real life, he was a typical human elite—barely good-looking, with oily hair slicked to one side.
“Their ‘Italian espresso’ is made with Indonesian beans roasted too long, thinking it’s Italian. I knew as soon as I tasted it—it’s nothing like what I drank in the UK. Ever been to the UK?”
Yingyu shook her head.
“Tsk, poor fox. Even if you can’t fly, you should go. I love British food—it’s full of soul. I once kissed my last girlfriend at a restaurant near Big Ben. Oh, and don’t mind if I kiss other girls—that’s normal for a man.”
“I don’t mind,” Yingyu said flatly.
Her blind date talked nonstop about Britain’s future economy without giving her a chance to speak.
Stirring her milk absently, Yingyu thought about how different he was from Zhou Chenyi. Suddenly she wondered: Has Zhou Chenyi kissed other girls? Does his ex have as many “artifacts” as the British Museum?
She dropped her spoon, and Huang Neng finally paused.
“Mr. Huang, I’m not planning to visit the UK or marry you. I have no feelings for you, do you?”
Yingyu picked up the spoon again. “When we go back, tell our parents we’re both bad-tempered and don’t need to meet again.”
“Don’t be so harsh. Even if you’ve never been to the UK, I won’t dislike you,” Huang Neng said, glancing at her.
Though he didn’t find her attractive, she was polite, obedient, had a decent office job, spoke well, looked neat—and he rated her a 75.
“I’m not insecure—I just don’t like you,” Yingyu said with a frown.
“You’re playing me. I’ll get mad if you keep this up.” Huang Neng’s phone rang. “I have a conference call soon, but we’re going to the movies tomorrow.”
“Hello!”
Yingyu sighed and buried her face in the couch.
A WeChat message popped up: [This guy seems to like you, but you’re too cold. You need to make an effort to talk.]
He didn’t give her a chance to speak during the whole meeting.
Cini and she came by for coffee and happened to watch the scene.
“Xiao Yingyu?” Sini said from across the table. “Is that your blind date?”
“Yeah, how do you know?”
“My parents have set me up plenty of times—I know the routine better than you.” Sini replaced the “Italian espresso” with plain milk like Yingyu’s.
“The news says coffee’s bad for your heart, so I take care of myself.”
“Zhou Chenyi likes coffee and carries it everywhere,” Yingyu recalled, shaking her head. “He likes it really bitter. I prefer it sweet.”
Zhou Chenyi likes it bitter?
Neither Sini nor Yingyu knew that detail yet. Sini kept asking about the blind date progress.
“I said no, but he kept talking to himself.”
“You can’t force it—you have to be clever.”
Sini, experienced in dodging blind dates, gave Yingyu tips on graceful rejection, promising that if she followed them, no more blind dates would come her way.
—
Saturday arrived. With remote coaching from Sini and Long Qiuqiu, Yingyu packed up and got to the cinema on time.
Jincheng was a prosperous and open city.
The cinema was in the bustling city-center mall, and despite the crowd, Yingyu stood out.
She checked herself in the mirror.
Her bohemian green hair was braided loosely, mixing rustic and trendy styles. Though her smoky makeup was amateurish and the green eyeshadow smudged near her nose, it fit today’s theme perfectly.
She layered on the reddest lipstick three thick coats. Smiling at a child, she scared it into tears.
Excellent. Yingyu stood confidently in the crowd and spotted Huang Neng searching for her.
Angrily she called out, “Brother Huang! People are waiting for you here!”
Huang Neng stepped forward, confused, and checked again.
Yingyu’s voice was loud but blended with the noisy crowd, drawing some curious looks.
“How do you dress like that?”
“I just got off work and was in a hurry. I came right after delivering the last order.”
Her outfit was muddy pants, a big ill-fitting jacket, and a dirty waistband. Huang Neng was stunned. “You work at Million, why are you in delivery clothes?”
“I like to wear this. I also deliver food when I’m low on cash. Didn’t the matchmaker tell you? I haven’t worked at Million for a while.”
Yingyu grabbed his arm despite his attempts to pull away. “Brother Huang, can you lend me 10,000? I’m short on money lately, but I swear I’ll pay you back within three years!”
“You’re crazy!”
“How do you know?”
Yingyu pulled him inside the huge theater and sat down. “I’ve never had good lungs and I’m saving for surgery. You have to lend me this—it’s our relationship.”
Huang Neng gave up: “I have no money!”
“Then your parents must. I’ll text them to say hi.”
“You want to bug my parents too? Why?”
“Because I’m their future daughter-in-law,” Yingyu grinned, “Embarrassed, addicted to smoking—you don’t mind if I light up, do you?”
Huang Neng nearly exploded. “No smoking in cinemas, don’t fool me!”
Yingyu pulled out a fresh pack of cigarettes, awkwardly acting cool with one in her mouth. The cyan centipede tattoo on her hand caught the light.
Why haven’t you left yet? Why haven’t you left?
She flicked her lighter, the flame flickering toward the cigarette.
Suddenly it was snatched away.
Yingyu turned and saw Zhou Chenyi’s cold face lit by the screen. His dark eyes stared at her. The moment their gazes met, Zhou Chenyi seemed indifferent, like he didn’t know her.
“No smoking in cinemas.”
“Oh, okay.”
Yingyu clenched the lighter in her hand, and the lighter and the rest of the cigarettes were confiscated.
Zhou Chenyi’s warning glance was clear, and Yingyu didn’t dare protest.
“Look at you, can’t even see people around you!” Huang Neng said, thankful to Zhou Chenyi, “Thank you. She’s got a brain problem. Good thing you stopped her!”
“You’re the one with the brain problem,” Zhou Chenyi shot back, then sat down.
Zhou Chenyi was right across the aisle.
Behind him, Jiang Jiuji waved at Yingyu.
“Do you know him?” Huang Neng asked.
“Yeah, they’re regular customers when I deliver food,” Yingyu replied.
The movie began.
The heroine asked a friend to pretend to be her boyfriend because she thought she had terminal cancer, pushing away the hero. The hero was unwilling and waited for her in the rain when she fainted. They yearned for each other in typical melodramatic fashion.
Cliché as it was, most of the audience were couples, oblivious to the plot.
The couple in front kissed for ages. Zhou Chenyi got fed up and started teasing Jiang Jiuji, who was on his phone.
“Why’d you drag me to this lousy movie?” he asked.
“You invited me looking so serious, I had no choice,” Jiang Jiuji replied, scanning the theater.
“Are your employees all working second jobs to make ends meet? Is your company going under?”
“Is she your employee?” Li Shuangyi, surprised by Yingyu’s outfit, asked. “Brother Zhou, you’re amazing.”
Li Shuangyi and the two were childhood friends, but now that he was a boss, his schedule was messed up.
“Enough, everyone calm down,” Zhou Chenyi muttered.
Yingyu fed popcorn to Huang Neng with polished red nails. Huang Neng kept his mouth shut.
He knew how to eat popcorn, but not how to eat poison.
Jiang Jiuji smiled and showed a photo on his phone case.
“Your employees are out on dates with other boys, but your boss can only watch movies with his brothers. Poor guy.”
Zhou Chenyi quickly put his phone away. “Who said she’s your girlfriend? Don’t assume a man and woman together are a couple. At least you’re an educated intellectual—use your brain.”
Zhou Chenyi disliked Tao. “Don’t call yourself my brother when you go out—it’s embarrassing.”
“I’m not your brother, I’m your dad and you forgot your son,” Jiang Jiuji teased with a grin.
Li Shuangyi added, “Brother Zhou, you actually defended this green-haired lady. Looks like you know her well. She probably isn’t your girlfriend. If she were, she wouldn’t try to kill him with popcorn.”
Zhou Chenyi followed Li Shuangyi’s gaze to Yingyu, who was dumping the last popcorn onto Huang Neng’s face, some even going up his nose.
Yingyu pulled a green onion and a garlic bulb from her bag.
“Brother Neng, you didn’t eat when you came. I brought these specially. Green onions boost health and garlic detoxifies.”
Huang Neng leaned away: “Why bring green onions to a cinema? This is art appreciation, not a vegetable market! Eat that somewhere else!”
Yingyu dug out a piece of durian meat and offered it.
“Smelly!”
People nearby turned to find the source of the smell—and landed on Huang Neng.
“The cinema doesn’t allow food that stinks. Have some manners!”
Huang Neng snapped, “It’s not me, it’s her!”
“Brother Neng, everything’s in your hands. Don’t push it onto me,” Yingyu pouted. “Cinema is for art, not markets. No matter how hungry you are, keep occasions separate.”
Li’s temper flared: “You’re stinking up the place. I thought the toilets exploded.”
“Move it, people want to watch the movie!”
Huang Neng gave up, grabbed his bag, and left muttering, “She’s nuts! There’s something wrong with her brain!”
After Huang Neng left, Yingyu settled down. The movie was halfway through.
The heroine kept pushing the male lead away, only to get pulled closer.
The male lead prepared to propose, but found out the heroine had terminal cancer. He tried to distance himself as she planned, but she was unusually passionate toward him.
Bai Yueguang, unmarried for years, returned to China, stirring up new complications.
The couple spent their last moments together, going for tests, and discovered the diagnosis was wrong. The doctor had made a mistake. They reconciled.
Most of the audience had left. Jiang Jiuji went home to his dog, Li’s wings grew sleepy, and only Zhou Chenyi leaned silently on the red seat, resting his face in his hand.
There was no real plot or highlight. How could they film three hours of this?
The sobbing came from the other side of the aisle.
Zhou Chenyi: “Why are people crying over this?”
“It’s great. It’s just a misunderstanding, and they end up together,” Yingyu said, wiping tears away. “Don’t you think it’s touching? True love can overcome any difficulty.”
“…That movie has nothing to do with what you’re saying.”
He didn’t even laugh—already a sign of embarrassment.
The credits rolled. The lights came on. Zhou Chenyi stood and walked out.
Yingyu caught up to him. “How did you end up watching this movie?”
“My phone told me to buy tickets here. I thought it was a scam. Wanted to see how they’d trick me.”
Yingyu got the same message. It was a horror movie, not a romance.
“Probably a scam, so watch out.”
“…”