Woman In Irish Linen Shirt

Dinner will be arranged in the SCC restaurant. Miss Pan De kindly invited me to taste their curry broth. Of course I understood the hint and did not propose to change places.

Besides, where can we change to another place? If we change to another place, we won't have to move tonight?

There is a dress code in the club, but it is also sub-regional. The restaurant I went to tonight, the requirements were as low as "please don't wear collarless T-shirts and slippers". We are ladies and the rules are more relaxed.

To avoid her embarrassment, I didn't wear a skirt. I always wear it like that in the company, and the skirt with no slits at the back slows down my pace, which can somewhat relieve my colleagues' pressure. But on the other hand, I want to put some pressure on her-but she is neither a colleague who needs to take care of her, nor an HR who desperately reduces my salary. What can I do?

Thinking of my repeated failures, I was a little discouraged. Quan just went to dinner that night, put on a pair of loafers and left.

Miss Pan De's figure is hidden in a linen shirt and she wore a pair of washed jeans, cut like a 701 from the 1950s. My eyes lit up and said, "You are definitely the best-looking person in jeans on this street."

When I said this, my heart felt like water, I made up my mind not to be fooled by her beauty. I couldn't beat her regardless of her style, but I heard Miss Pande say, "Thank you, Fudge girl. I like your shirt."

She meant that I was dressed like a model in Fudge magazine. There is something like that, I took it as a compliment and thanked her.

I glanced at my feet, her jeans were draped up to the ankles that were fastened by the sandals and shoe loops, and her trousers were rolled around, revealing her bare ears. In terms of her height, the trousers have probably not been changed. I greeted, "Is it 701?"

"Yes, LVC." She looked back at me, "You can recognize it from the fabric? Denim looks similar to me."

"There are only a few ready-to-wear brands that use narrow denim to make women's jeans. It's mainly about tailoring." I replied casually, "but there should still be many patterns in the weaving of twill..."

As always, she listened very carefully and discussed with me from time to time. I was cold in my heart, waiting for her to make a move.

The curry broth is indeed the signature of SCC, with the prefix "Club Special" written on the menu. I rarely eat Indian or Malay dishes. I heard that there are hundreds of types of traditional curry, which can definitely be called the art of spice. The history of curry expansion is closely related to the British navy. I occasionally eat Japanese curry once or twice, but I can't talk about tasting it.

Tonight's curry must be very lethal.

"Do you like spicy? I'm not sure if this one is too spicy. If you don't mind, you can taste mine first before deciding." Miss Pan De still bewitches people as always, bluntly willing to share food with me, just like she I am really happy to be close to me.

"Thank you. You are so considerate, but I just want the staple food you recommended earlier." I smiled and said, "I didn't intend to hide it. To be honest, I almost rely on tacos to survive in the United States. Jalapeno helped. I spent many final seasons when I didn’t want to eat because of lack of sleep."

"Have you tasted devil pepper?" she asked.

Sure enough, everyone from a region with a traditional spicy food can not escape the desire to win and lose where is more spicy. Not to be outdone, I said: "Have you ever tasted hot shabu shabu?"

"Shabu Shabu spicy?" She repeated after me.

"It's a kind of pepper from Yunnan Province. Yunnan is. I mentioned it when we talked about tie-dye last time..."

"I know." She said, "There are a lot of non-ferrous metals there. It's a beautiful place. It's southwest of the mainland, right?"

The knowledge she knows about Yunnan is no different from mine. I said, "You are right. Anyway, it is a very spicy chili."

Miss Pan De seemed to be not interested in how spicy the shabu-shabu was so spicy that it was as hot as the devil pepper. She just nodded and asked, "Is Yunnan your hometown?"

"You must have never heard of it," I said, "I'm from Langfang. When I was a kid, I would go back there every vacation, but I grew up in Beijing."

Foreigners generally give up when they hear this, and assume that I am a Beijinger. But Miss Pan De seemed willing to understand such a strange city, and asked: "Is Langfang a city or a province?"

"It's a city. It's very close to Beijing, between Beijing and Tianjin. My hometown is called'oil'." I deliberately said Chinese, "It only takes an hour to reach Chaoyang CBD."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, and said, "Then the people of Langfang must be easily misidentified because of the huge city next to them. I will remember."

I was a little surprised. I thought she would say Beijing is rounded up.

At this time, Miss Pan De said: "How do you write ‘oil’? Can you write it to me?"

I subconsciously took a meal with the pen hand, what is she doing to humiliate me? I stayed calm, touched my phone, thought about it, typed "Wanzhuang" and sent it to her chat window.

"Petroleum" is our local name, and the name of that piece is Wanzhuang.

Miss Pan De pointed to "10,000" and said, "Stone."

I nodded.

She jumped to "Zhuang" again and said: "You."

My cold heart warmed up again. It was a bit funny, but it seemed too verbose to explain, so I nodded and said, "Perfect pronunciation."

"Petroleum." She looked at me and blinked suddenly, "Petroleum. I seem to be more and more familiar with it."

I couldn't help but laughed. It sounded like saying "you" in Tangshan dialect, and there was a mixed Chinese and English.

"What?" She was a little annoyed, "Why are you laughing? Am I so bad?"

"No no," I held back a smile, "I'm sorry. You read it well, but it will be more perfect if you adjust the accent a little bit. "Petroleum"."

"Petroleum." She studied it again. At the end, she looked at the phone and nodded seriously, "I remember, Petroleum."

I felt like I was a villain just now, and I felt a little complicated, and said, "Can I know where you are from?"

"I was born in the west." She added immediately, "not Mumbai."

Fortunately, I didn't guess, I stuck out my tongue, Miss Pande was obviously aware of this before she said it first. She looked at me with a smile for two seconds, and said nothing.

"What's wrong?" I don't know why. Wouldn't you be angry? People have distinguished Langfang from Beijing by the eight classics. I subconsciously assumed that the other party was from Mumbai. It was really not very good. I looked at her with a guilty conscience.

"You are cute, when you—" She may be trying to do something, but she held back, just smiled happily, and said, "Well, when you spit out your tongue."

I was stunned and said, "Thank you."

She shook her head slightly. Miss Pande retracted her gaze and said, "I'm from Ahmedabad in Gujarat. Gujarat is a very ordinary state. For foreigners, Gandhi is probably the most famous."

"That's already very well-known." I really didn't know anything about her hometown, so I laughed at myself, "The most famous poet in Langfang is a poet. Frankly speaking, I can't even recite his poems."

Of course I can recite it, and if I want to be a thousand miles away, I can take it to the next level. But what if she asks me to translate?

Miss Pan De was amused by me. I don't know where it moved her, maybe it was my expression, maybe she just liked that an intellectual didn't pretend that she knew everything. I felt a little more relaxed when the curry broth was served.

Yeah, I looked down at the staple food, the yellow broth is attractive in color, where does it look like extremely spicy food?

Why did I relax my guard again?

Today’s SCC’s daily specials include two Indian dishes. Miss Pande ordered a vegetarian mutton curry. She originally wanted to share this with me, but it seemed to be much hotter than my broth-then she looked at me with some interest and some worry.

Is this really so spicy?

I left off the soup and tasted a piece of chicken. It's not bad. She seemed relieved.

Miss Pan De didn't say anything? I find it strange.

I will definitely not take the initiative to raise this matter. Although she is equivalent to grabbing a handle on me, and the situation will fall to BCG sooner or later; but now it is she who begs me after all. I accepted the invitation, which is another way to say, but now everything is still unknown, if I rush to mention it, it would be too timid.

Or is she just so sure? I will definitely agree to her?

I watched her quietly. Miss Pan De always scoops up curry and rice evenly and puts it in her mouth. She gathers her hair from time to time and looks attentive. Her food looks delicious. I don't know if it is really delicious, but I feel hungry just by looking at her.

I don’t like Indian food. This well-known curry broth didn't make me think anything special, and Miss Pan De's taste was very elegant, but I just felt a surge of hunger. Her lips became more rosy, and a grain of rice stuck to the back of the silver spoon, and she licked it off. I took a gulp of soup.

Well, this time I know why she is worried. It's a bit spicy indeed.

Very spicy. I choked.

"Are you okay?" The water was handed to me immediately, Miss Pan De's eyes were concerned.

I suppressed my cough and drank my saliva. It was still itchy, but I had to be patient. I refrained from coughing, then swallowed a big mouthful of water, and said, "Thank you. I'm fine. Spicy is delicious."

I didn't dare to look at her at all, but it was like that last time, and that was how I fell in the locker room of the badminton court last time. I settled down, looked at her, and laughed: "I forgot to thank you for hosting me here. This is really a nice restaurant, it's relaxing."

A little light flashed in Miss Pan De's deep eyes: "It's better here during the day. If we are free, we can come over for an afternoon tea."

"I'm happy," I said, "but in what capacity?"

She looked at me, unable to tell what kind of expression she was, as if she was smiling, but also as if she didn't. I saw her lips that were reddened by acrimony opened slightly, and said, "What kind of identity do you want?"