Today is the weekend, the mall is quite crowded, but the third floor is less so because it sells more specialized academic supplies.
On the fourth floor, there's a rather upscale Western restaurant, facing the quieter storefronts on the third floor, with public artworks designed by the restaurant itself displayed outside, quite aesthetically pleasing.
So this Western restaurant is willing to be located in the secluded corner of the fourth floor, rather than the food court on the sixth floor.
Milo Sinclair finally had some time on Saturday, but was pressed by his mother to go on a blind date, which was arranged at the window seat of this very restaurant.
His mother believed the girl had strong professional abilities, so they would have a common language if they were together in the future. Two busy doctor partners would not feel neglected, and with his professional ability, she would have a strong admiration for him.
He didn't want to go on the blind date, but his mother set a condition: meet this one, and if it doesn't work out, she'd leave him alone for the rest of the year.
For the sake of a peaceful second half of the year, Milo reluctantly made time to meet.
The other party suggested meeting at the mall, and Milo had no objections.
Have a meal, then walk around and buy some gift, a girl's activity, he considered it as a post-dinner walk.
At worst, he'd pay for it, let her keep quiet, and tell his mother she didn't like him, to avoid future headaches.
But as soon as she saw him, she was so scared she couldn't complete her sentences.
Why couldn't she speak properly?
Because she was a new graduate student at National Medical University, a student of his peer in thoracic and cardiovascular surgery, Aldridge. She had taken his anatomy class as an undergraduate, though he didn't remember her.
When Milo recalled his mother's mention of "professional admiration," he thought this frightened girl was taking admiration too far.
"Professor Sinclair, what a coincidence..." Isla Bishop couldn't believe her blind date was him. Her mother had just said she was getting older, would be very busy as a doctor, and suggested finding a boyfriend now to avoid anxiety and remain unmarried later.
Moreover, the other party was a prominent figure in the medical field, and she suggested Isla come meet him, not knowing he was her former undergraduate mentor.
"You're not my student anymore; I'm at most your teacher's senior," Milo said earnestly. In medicine, seniority matters. Isla was Aldridge's graduate student now, and calling him a teacher might lead Aldridge to a fight.
Isla nodded nervously, assuring she wouldn't get it wrong again.
This blind date absolutely couldn't work, or else she'd develop depression by tomorrow, and the day after she'd be research material for the psychiatry department.
Professor Sinclair was infamously known as The Living Devil at National Medical University, sparing no one who made mistakes, often sending them to psychological medicine for one-on-one counseling sessions with teachers.
A very accomplished male classmate of hers had cried in the bathroom for a long time after being scolded by Teacher Sinclair.
"Outside of class, you can call me by my name, after all, we're on a blind date," Milo said without showing any discomfort, slowly eating, trying to have a friendly chat with Isla displaying his "approachability."
But Isla wished she could ascend to heaven on the spot, fleeing this terrifying dinner table.
Call him by his name? She cherished her life too much.
The two didn't look like a couple on a blind date, more like a superior and subordinate giving a report.
With a stern expression, Milo asked Isla several professional questions, the knife and fork in his hand reflecting a cold light as he cut the steak into orderly hexagons, but he didn't eat them, just let them sit there.
This plate of meat, piled there, sent chills down Isla's spine; she felt as if Professor Sinclair was dissecting her.
Milo put down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth with a napkin, washed his fingers in the lemon water, and said, "After you get home, tell your parents truthfully, I don't mind a professor-student relationship..."
After all, this little girl was likely a student of National Medical University.
"I mind, I mind... I'll explain to my parents clearly, it's my problem and unrelated to you," Isla interrupted him quickly, forgetting about politeness.
The outstanding young professor of National Medical University, the youngest vice president in Sinclair Private Hospital's history, and surely the future youngest president, someone to be viewed with respect rather than to be trifled with—she dared not take the life-threatening risk.
Joking aside, dating and marrying him would mean keeping her blood pressure below a hundred and fearing his surgical knife would come out at night.
She still wanted to find a fun little brother to eat, drink, and play with, not spend every moment of her life immersed in medical research.
At that moment, a low melody played from the music store on the third floor, neither loud nor obtrusive.
Milo paused, used an eyeglass cloth to clean his gold-rimmed glasses, then placed them in his chest pocket of his suit, revealing a mature but not old-looking face.
This "Aria" was played with skill, though the cello's timbre was somewhat lacking.
Milo felt a tinge of regret and called over a server to settle the bill.
"I have some matters to attend to, I'll leave first. You can explain things later, thanks." The blind date had reached a conclusion, there was no need for him to waste any more time here, so he got up and left.
Once he had left, Isla could finally relax. It had to be said, Professor Sinclair was handsome, with a face rivaling that of male celebrities, and a great physique, yet he hadn't dated or had a girlfriend for years, leading the department to speculate if he was gay.
Because the female students flocking to him came in all shapes and sizes, from voluptuous to slender, seductive to pure, and he never showed a friendly face to any of them. Nor did he show one to any male students.
He was so handsome... What a pity she couldn't handle it.
What kind of girl did Professor Sinclair like? Was he as cold as he was now when dating someone?
...
Milo followed the music downstairs, taking a long detour before finally finding the music store on the third floor.
Upon entering, he saw a very petite girl at the front desk, holding a broken-string cello, talking with the owner.
She wasn't very tall, but with good body proportions, long black hair down to her waist, smiling sweetly at the owner while handing over the cello.
It turned out to be her. Milo squinted his eyes, a surge of emotion welling up inside him.
...
After sending away a mother and son, Shea Thorne quietly waited for the owner to return and check her cello.
"The break is quite thorough, huh?" The owner, a young man, smiled and said, "Miss, not very gentle with your cello, as an artist treating your instrument like this, it won't repay you with good music."
Shea smiled awkwardly, blaming Ariana Thorne again in her heart. The owner understood her intentions and discussed with her what strings to use and how long it would take for the repairs.
"Will it be alright to pick it up next week?" After the discussion, the owner wrote out a receipt for Shea Thorne.
Shea nodded, saying, "Owner, I need to rent a cello in the meantime."
Ariana Thorne had been negligent for a long time, and now needed to regain these skills through continuous practice, meaning she needed to rent a cello for practice.
The owner nodded and led her to look at cellos, helping her choose one for rent within a suitable price range, and then wrote out a receipt for her.
Shea gathered her receipts, placed the cello in her old case, and as she turned, she saw a man standing behind her.
He was very tall, with hair meticulously groomed, wearing a black suit. From the pocket on his chest hung a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, and a silver tie gave him a strong aura, not looking particularly pleasant.
He was very handsome, appearing young but not in a boyishly sunny way.
With straight eyebrows and deep eyes, he had a vibe akin to the currently popular ascetic male gods, with a touch of gloominess, his face reflecting a bit of time's passage, eyes piercing as they focused intently on her.
This look... not very friendly, seeming even harsher than her former professional course teachers, more like the principal who caught her when she skipped school as a child.
Shea looked around, discovering nothing seemed amiss with her, yet his gaze gave her the creeps—could he be some sort of pervert?
Out of politeness, she gave a faint smile and nodded, then quickly left the music store.
This man's aura was too overpowering, and although his gaze was probing, it appeared he didn't want to strike up a conversation. If his demeanor were softer, following Shea's principles of friendship, she wouldn't mind a casual dalliance with him.
But deep within surfaced Ariana Thorne's panic, totally unnerving as a little girl unable to withstand such scrutiny, prompting Shea to decide to leave first.
I'm shallow, farewell!