Chapter 062: The Camphor Leaf Incident

Those who take action as soon as an idea strikes are known in behavioral science as the Gale Faction. Lin Yuhua resembled such people, though he was less obsessive. So when he noticed the business potential of the milk tea shop, he kept his thoughts to himself, burying them deep rather than showing his intentions.

Walking side by side with two beautiful girls, Lin Yuhua found his mind drifting toward mischievous thoughts as he watched Qi Yue and Yang Zhilin, who were closely pressed together in a manner that hinted at intimacy. He deliberately slowed his pace, falling a step behind, and as was his habit, let his gaze wander to the girls’ shapely figures, comparing which one was more alluring.

Inevitably, as the saying goes, “If you walk by the river often, your shoes will get wet.” Lin Yuhua, who had been comparing hair, then waists, and finally legs, was suddenly caught red-handed by a backward glance from Yang Zhilin.

In that instant, their eyes locked—her gaze cold and piercing. Lin Yuhua was so embarrassed he wished he could disappear into the ground. What he didn’t notice was that, just then, the icy, unmoved girl had a faint blush blooming on her cheek.

At the very moment Lin Yuhua was most flustered, Qi Yue, holding a cup of cola, pointed toward the school gate. “Lin Yuhua, Zhilin, look, there are so many people over there,” she said.

Her words instantly eased the awkwardness between Lin Yuhua and Yang Zhilin. Looking over, Lin Yuhua saw that a large crowd had gathered at the gate—not only students from First High, but also many passersby. The throng was so great that it was quite a spectacle.

What could have happened to draw such a crowd? The three, having just finished their KFC meal, couldn’t help being curious and quickened their steps to find out.

Romantic—known as “romantic” in English, also called romance—was defined in the dictionary as poetic and full of fantasy. Its essence lay in perceiving the beloved as a precious confidant, yet difficult to possess, and so employing verses, songs, or any imaginable means to attract notice and affection. Many of these methods came with unexpected surprises.

So when the crowd naturally parted to make way, Lin Yuhua, Qi Yue, and Yang Zhilin were astonished. That the crowd would give way to beauties was unsurprising. What mattered was that at the center of the circle stood a massive heart, pierced by an arrow, all composed of green camphor leaves.

More importantly, at the tip of the arrow rested a pink envelope addressed in flowing script: “To Miss Yang Zhilin, personally.” The signature read “Wang Keming.”

Students who had already peeked at the envelope’s contents all knew Yang Zhilin. The moment the heroine appeared, the crowd burst into excited cheers.

Planted among them were Wang Keming’s confederates, and as one shouted, “Say yes to him!” the onlookers, swept up in the excitement, joined in. The chant echoed loudly through the crowd.

Many people, especially inexperienced girls, felt their hearts flutter. They thought, if it were them, they would say yes to Wang Keming—handsome, wealthy, and an excellent student.

Even Qi Yue’s heart was racing a little. Her bright, clear eyes darted toward Lin Yuhua, hoping for some reaction from him. But after waiting a long while, she saw him standing there woodenly, unmoved. Annoyed, she stamped her foot in frustration.

“How many camphor leaves did it take to make a heart ten meters wide? What a wasteful boy…” Lin Yuhua thought to himself. Turning back, he noticed that the camphor tree he had been observing while waiting for Qi Yue and Yang Zhilin had been stripped bare, now reduced to a shadow of itself.

As for Wang Keming’s grand gesture, Lin Yuhua was decidedly unimpressed. From their recent interactions, he had sensed Yang Zhilin’s inner aloofness—a cold pride that was smooth and unyielding, keeping others at a distance without the need for words or glances.

Wang Keming had gone to great lengths, sparing no effort or expense, but Lin Yuhua doubted it would bear fruit. After all, he was pursuing Yang Zhilin—the unattainable pinnacle in the hearts of First High’s boys, a legend shrouded in clouds, never before conquered.

“Damn! Could it be…?”

But a minute later, Lin Yuhua, whose heart was heavy with foreboding, was shocked to see that Yang Zhilin, staring at the heart made of camphor leaves, accepted the envelope handed to her by another girl—and her eyes reddened with tears.

“The goddess is moved?”

“The goddess is crying…”

“It seems Wang Keming’s chances are very good. But where is he now?”

As Yang Zhilin’s tears fell, the crowd erupted in speculation. Young people often wish to see the unattainable conquered; it is, as described in the Bible, a kind of original sin. Many present hoped that Wang Keming would win Yang Zhilin’s heart.

But Lin Yuhua was not among them. Seeing her tears, he felt a faint tremor in his own heart. He wondered if he was beginning to have feelings for Yang Zhilin. Quickly, though, he dismissed it as a normal appreciation of beauty, not jealousy or any other emotion.

When one flower blooms, all others pale.

Now, with tears sparkling like rain on pear blossoms, Yang Zhilin stood in the center of the crowd, a noble princess—aloof, unreachable, making all other women, young and old, fade into shadow. Even the vibrant Qi Yue seemed dim by comparison.

In the girl’s tear-filled eyes, there was a trace of foreign allure, a hint of melancholy, a clarity untouched by dust—all of which made every boy present feel their heart beat faster.

Suddenly, the powerful roar of an engine shattered the stillness like ripples on a clear lake. Many were annoyed, feeling the car’s intrusion ruined the beauty of the moment.

Boos broke out, but they were soon drowned by the shouts of Wang Keming’s confederates.

“Wow, it’s Wang Keming! What a cool car!”

“Say yes to him… say yes to him…”

“That’s the Mazda RX7 FD3S from Fast & Furious, and it’s modified. Must be worth over two million.”

Promoting oneself is no different from marketing a product—one must stand out and reject mediocrity. Today, Wang Keming had achieved perfection.

As the engine cut out, the red Mazda RX7 FD3S rolled to a stop near the crowd. Dressed in a sharp suit, Wang Keming stepped from the driver’s seat, opened the car door for Yang Zhilin, and said elegantly, “Zhilin, would you like to take a drive with me?”

Man proposes, heaven disposes. With his nerves taut, Wang Keming steadied himself after uttering this line. No longer anxious or conflicted—he had liked her for nearly three years, and today, he had finally spoken his heart. It had not been easy.

Everyone knew: getting in the car meant acceptance; refusal was rejection. All eyes focused, burning, on the dazzling Yang Zhilin.