Qiqi nodded and smiled. She was naturally prone to smiling, and when a handsome man beamed so brightly, happiness was contagious.
"Rosemary symbolizes faithful love and friendship... Beautiful Chinese girl, what does it mean to you?" The handsome man recited like a poet, his ocean-blue eyes gazing tenderly at Qiqi.
Qiqi was momentarily dazzled—wow, what a handsome guy! Sure, Rong Yi was handsome too, but seeing him every day had built up immunity. Suddenly encountering a different type, one with a tropical, sunny charm, it was hard not to feel a flutter of spring in her heart.
Qiqi pondered his words—Rosemary in my heart? Hmm, she remembered JJ had a song called "Rosemary," with lyrics that went: "Your smile drifting in the wind carries the scent of rosemary..."
Well, she'd zoned out.
"It's about memories and longing," Qiqi replied.
"Memories? Longing?" The handsome man pursed his lips in a smile, elegant and sunny. "Well said. Rosemary is for remembrance, dear. Please keep it in your heart."
Ha, this foreigner had a sense of humor, quoting a classic line from *Hamlet* as dialogue.
"Yes, my prince," Qiqi played along, lifting her skirt and performing a European court curtsy—it was part of the restaurant's service style, and keeping guests happy was her duty.
The handsome man was indeed delighted, perhaps feeling a touch of home here, and gave Qiqi a generous tip.
As she was busy, a child's crying came from the other end of the hall—a little girl around five or six, dining with her mother. She had been well-behaved, quiet and elegant, clearly a well-bred young lady, but for some reason, she suddenly started wailing loudly, causing headaches for the server at their table.
Since the restaurant prided itself on quiet elegance, the child's cries disturbed other guests, and complaints had already come in.
Qiqi hurried over to help. It turned out the child didn't like vegetables, and under her mother's scolding, she grew more upset, crying with tears and snot streaming down.
Qiqi knew that at this age, children had strong self-esteem; the more pressure you applied, the more they resisted.
So she crouched down and asked, "Little miss, why don't you like eating vegetables?"
The little girl replied, "Because there are bugs in them."
"But the vegetables here are washed very clean."
"I still don't like eating them."
Qiqi looked up at the girl's mother—she was dressed in a sharp suit, clearly a strong career woman. But this strong woman might have been at a loss when it came to parenting; when the child cried, she only scolded, and when others glanced over, she looked flustered.
She shot Qiqi a pleading look.
Qiqi nodded at the mother, signaling—leave it to me.
She thought, kids love toys; if she made a little toy for the girl, it might distract her.
So Qiqi picked up a napkin from the table and folded it into a cloth toy for the little girl.
When Qiqi was little, without toys, she had learned to make things herself, folding handkerchiefs into little rabbits or frogs that looked lifelike.
But this time, as she folded the napkin, she thought of the Wolf King—that guy was also a picky eater who didn't like greens. Would he end up malnourished? No, next time, she'd have to make him eat some too.