The BRANT Cafe wasn't very large, but its decor was fresh and unusual, creating an elegant, romantic, and cozy atmosphere. It was clear the owner had distinctive taste. This was An Ruoqing's twenty-third blind date. Long since considered a leftover woman, she was set up on three or four dates every month by her mother, who wanted a son-in-law so badly she was nearly driving herself into a mental hospital. Her mother practically wanted to slap a clearance-sale sticker on her and sell her off at a bargain price.
Today's prospective match was an executive at a company, whom her mother had somehow found through her connections. Supposedly he was 35, but in person he looked at least 55. Never mind his balding head: the wrinkles all over his face and yellow teeth when he smiled were enough to make anyone sick. He was only about 165 centimeters tall, yet fat bulged everywhere, and he had a beer belly packed into a medium-sized shirt. That was bad enough. After all, nobody was perfect, and An Ruoqing considered herself plain-looking, so she hardly had the right to be too picky. But he wouldn't let it go. Flaunting his prestigious title as a company executive, he nitpicked and lectured her, wearing a revolting expression that said marrying him would be her good fortune. Even with her good manners, she wanted to flip the table right there and then.
