Chapter 15: Now It Concerns Me

Mrs. Charles’s Restaurant.

At the same spot, Zoe ordered the same meal as last week.

After several courses, noticing Zoe had slowed down, Ronan finally asked the question he had held back earlier.

“How did you know my age?”

To keep those around him from suspecting his “Parisian” identity, Ronan deliberately avoided discussing personal details.

Zoe calmly sipped her after-dinner liqueur.

“I saw it on my father’s contract.”

It was reasonable for the real estate agent handling the property transfer to know basic client information.

But Zoe, worried Ronan might ask, “Do you normally look through your father’s client info?” quickly changed the subject before he could react.

“The tables, chairs, and umbrellas are with Alan; the tablecloths were chosen to coordinate with the truffle’s color.”

The market management center had assigned Ronan a stall on the other side, where he could set up next week.

Ronan’s thoughts drifted as Zoe spoke. After a brief hesitation, he tentatively asked,

“Can I share a stall with you?”

Zoe was momentarily taken aback. Her first thought was, “Is he deliberately trying to create an intersection between us?” But she quickly dismissed the notion.

They met every week at family gatherings, but Ronan had never shown any enthusiasm toward her.

Besides, Ronan usually spent his time drinking at the old tavern; if he were interested, he would have found more reasons to visit her home.

“Why?” Zoe asked flatly, though internally she was astonished at how many thoughts had raced through her mind in just a few seconds.

Ronan answered earnestly,

“As you can see, I can make money selling truffles, but I don’t have a car.”

Truffles sold exceptionally well, even better than he had expected.

Some customers only looked without buying—not because they disliked them, but because the sizes were unsuitable. They might only want a small piece to satisfy a craving, but Ronan’s were all quite large.

He was confident that no matter how many he dug up, he could easily sell them all.

With February approaching, the truffle season was nearly over. Ronan needed to work hard to dig up as many as possible during this tail end, so he could install heating, replace windows, and buy his own car.

All these required the use of the Louis family car.

Sharing a stall with Zoe could increase her income, and Ronan hoped to exchange that for some guaranteed use of the car.

Many at the market did the same; he had even seen stalls selling both honey and seafood. In this light, truffles paired with utensils didn’t seem like a strange combination.

In truth, even if Ronan didn’t ask, the enthusiastic Louis would surely lend him the car, but Ronan felt uneasy about owing too much.

After several encounters, he had realized why Louis treated him as a “guest of honor,” but Ronan lacked wealthy friends to invest in Provence.

Raised with traditional Chinese values, he didn’t want to accumulate too many debts of gratitude.

Zoe was glad Ronan had been honest—no more guessing—but she felt a faint, hard-to-ignore disappointment.

“You don’t have to do that to use the car. In winter, my father’s work isn’t so busy; he only drives when he goes shopping.”

Ronan smiled and shrugged.

“Even brothers by blood need to keep clear accounts.”

Seeing Zoe’s serious expression fixed on the table, Ronan raised an eyebrow.

“If you don’t agree, I’ll just have to treat you to dinner every Friday.”

He had indeed been scheming that way. Just three seconds earlier, he had heard a delightful voice:

[Dining with an attractive person of the opposite sex increases happiness by 5 points.]

Zoe looked helplessly at the sincere and gleeful “kid” across from her, silently wondering how he managed to make her “daydream” with every word he spoke. Eventually, she relented.

“Okay, you can share a stall with me.”

...

After the meal, Ronan carried the box containing Zoe’s unsold works as they walked along the main road.

“What should we do with the rest?”

Zoe could produce a dozen or so items weekly but only sold a few at the market.

“Take them to other markets or send them to specialty shops, though the prices would be heavily discounted.”

“Which specialty shops?”

There was no shop in Lurmaran village specializing in ceramics and glassware, which piqued Ronan’s curiosity.

He had never left this village or visited others.

“I usually send them to Mena village,” Zoe replied honestly.

Mena village, part of the Golden Triangle, had more developed commerce and facilities.

“When do you go? Can I come along?”

Ronan asked excitedly.

Zoe pointed at the box in his arms.

“I’ll wait until I have enough stock. It’s not easy to make the trip, and you sure you want to come? It’ll be much more than this.”

Ronan made a carefree face and shook the box.

“No matter how heavy!”

Just then, the box suddenly felt light in his hands—it was taken by someone else.

Henry, flashing a mouthful of rotten teeth, cheerfully said to Ronan,

“Heading home? Let me help you carry it back.”

Ronan and Zoe exchanged glances, silently asking what was going on.

Zoe had no connection with Henry and even avoided him due to his poor reputation.

Ronan had had unpleasant encounters with Henry; he doubted Henry would willingly help him.

“I can manage,” Ronan said, snatching the box back and giving Zoe a look. They quickened their pace.

Henry chuckled dryly like a crow and followed them.

“Going to the old tavern later?” Henry obviously asked Ronan.

Ronan shook his head.

“No.”

Not today, nor in the coming days. He was going truffle hunting.

Henry scratched his head with dry fingers.

“They’ll announce the winners today.”

Today was the deadline for the truffle competition.

Ronan asked curiously,

“Who’s going to take first place?”

No need to wait until the last moment; the results were probably already known.

Henry sneered.

“Theo’s brother, Lucas. That guy has a purebred Provence Wirehaired Pointing Griffon. That dog can smell truffles from a kilometer away—that’s cheating!”

Ronan ignored Henry’s habitual grumbling about the world but caught some useful information.

A Provence Wirehaired Pointing Griffon?

A dog bred specifically for truffle hunting?

Ronan filed this key detail away in his mind.

“Congratulations to him,” Ronan said casually.

Henry gave Ronan a friendly but eerie smile.

“If I were you, I’d go to the old tavern for a couple of drinks today. Everyone there wants to buy you a drink.”

Ronan raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

“Thank them for me, and have them drink a few more on my behalf.”

Henry kept following them. Zoe returned to silence. Ronan tried starting various topics but, receiving little response, wisely fell quiet.

This only worsened his impression of Henry.

He still wanted to ask Zoe about other villages!

Henry saw nothing unusual. Wasn’t that girl always cold and distant?

Ronan must be sick in the head!

With so many warm-hearted girls in the village, why insist on courting this icy one?

As they neared Zoe’s doorstep, she finally spoke.

“I’ll talk to my father about that matter.”

Ronan knew she meant borrowing the car and hurried to stop her.

“No need. I’ll speak to Louis myself. It’s between him and me.”

He clearly remembered Zoe saying, “That’s between you and my father. Now it’s between you and me,” so there was no need to drag her into it.

Zoe snatched the box from his hands; her expressive blue eyes silenced all his refusals.

“It concerns me now.”