010 If Heaven Had Feelings (Seeking Monthly Tickets and Recommendations)

Monica Bellucci walked along the edge of the road with her hands behind her back. At just over twenty years old, she perfectly embodied the essence of youthful innocence, yet her voluptuous figure lent her an air of something far more captivating. Lu Deyang rode alongside her on his motorcycle, using his feet to propel the bike forward, keeping pace with her step for step.

"The commercial shoot is over. Why are you still following me?" Monica suddenly stopped, turned, and asked.

"I just believe that when a person is faced with certain things, they must seize the opportunity, or they will regret it for the rest of their lives," Lu Deyang replied, looking up with a grin that revealed eight dazzling white teeth in the sunlight.

He was joking, of course—no one in their right mind would pass up the chance to pursue the "Queen of the Ball."

Monica felt a sudden flutter in her heart. His dark, deep eyes seemed like bottomless wells, pulling her in and making her yearn to explore what lay within. However, having been surrounded by countless men since her early teens, she had learned to keep her emotions guarded. Witty, humorous, handsome, and wealthy—Lu Deyang seemed to have no weaknesses. Most importantly, unlike many Italian men, he lacked that pervasive sense of chauvinism. In a patriarchal society like Italy, such a trait was rare.

That was why she was willing to spend extra time with him outside of work. Being with Lu Deyang was always relaxing, and he had a way with words.

*“You are the most beautiful Italian girl I have ever seen... There seem to be stars in your eyes... You are my Neapolitan coffee; even if finished quickly, you still warm the palms of my hands...”*

When you are with the right person, even a simple walk down the street never feels dull.

Milan is a grand city, but even in its center, there are streets like Via Padova. Gypsies, Albanians, and Eastern European stowaways congregated there, and it was not uncommon for more than ten people from the same region to be crammed into a single nondescript room.

As soon as they entered the street, they were met with hostile stares. Lu Deyang pulled Monica over, sat her on the passenger seat, handed her a helmet, and slammed the throttle wide open. The engine of his newly purchased RG500 roared like a beast. The sudden, intense acceleration made Monica gasp and cry out. The thugs who had been closing in to cause trouble scrambled toward the roadside, terrified of being struck.

"Damn it! This street is filled with trash and obstacles everywhere—aren't they afraid of causing an accident?"

A few disheveled gypsies turned back to hurl insults, but the motorcycle did not trip over the obstacles as they had hoped. Instead, it swerved and darted, maintaining high speed while nimbly weaving through the clutter as if performing in a stunt show. The rush of adrenaline thrilled Monica; once she adapted to the excitement, she wrapped her arms tightly around Lu Deyang's waist.

Their brazen display clearly infuriated the locals. To them, prison was no different from going home, and Via Padova was not a place for anyone to act more arrogant than they were.

Two gypsies suddenly pushed a kebab cart into the middle of the road. Their timing was impeccable, leaving Lu Deyang almost no time to react. Fortunately, his reflexes were sharp; he braked instantly, leaned the bike, and squeezed through a narrow gap. A second later, he heard a heavy thud. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Monica use her helmet to deliver a fierce blow to a thug’s head, knocking him straight to the ground.

"Nice hit!" Lu Deyang exclaimed.

"Don't underestimate me!" Monica replied with a triumphant smirk. Having grown up in a small village, she had long ago learned how to protect herself from her father, who ran a trucking company.

Once they were clear of Via Padova, Monica felt a sense of lingering excitement. It had been a long time since she had experienced such a rush.

"Where are we going now?" Monica shouted, clinging to Lu Deyang.

"I don't know, wherever the road takes us," Lu Deyang called back. "Life doesn't always need a set destination."

Over an hour later, they sat by the sea.

"You brought me all the way to Genoa; my agent is going to lose his mind," Monica said with a playful laugh, holding an ice cream cone.

"Let's hope he doesn't call the police, or I'll have to whisk you away to Switzerland," Lu Deyang joked. He hadn't even realized they were in Genoa. Having been in Italy for so long, the only places he had visited outside of Reggio Calabria, Sardinia, and Sicily were Rome and Milan. In this day and age, transportation wasn't convenient, and traveling wasn't easy. Even back home, many people had never ventured far from their own towns.

"Why would we have to run away?" Monica tilted her head and asked.

"I’m certainly not sending you back," Lu Deyang said. "We’ll just hide in the Swiss mountains, have eight or ten children, and go from there."

Monica immediately brandished a fist, showing him she wasn't someone to be trifled with.

"I haven't been this happy in a long time," Monica whispered.

"Is being a model not fulfilling?" Lu Deyang asked. "You've been on magazine covers, haven't you?"

"Yes, but even then, it's hard to break through. You have no idea how many girls are desperate to make a name for themselves," Monica complained. "I used to think I wanted to show myself to the whole world."

Lu Deyang keenly picked up on the shift in her tone and asked with a smile, "And now?"

"I won't tell you!"

Monica, wearing a long dress, jumped up and ran along the beach, drawing the eyes of many tourists. Some people are simply born to be the protagonists of their own stories.

Lu Deyang stood up and followed her. Suddenly, a Big Mac appeared in his hand out of thin air. He handed it to a tourist who was staring at Monica and said, "Eat up, and stop staring at someone else's girlfriend."

Most of them couldn't help but laugh.

"Hey, buddy, do you have drinks?" a few young men asked.

Lu Deyang reached out and instantly produced a cup bearing the "M" logo. The young men gasped in shock.

"That's so cool! Where were you hiding that?"

"Is this magic? What kind of props are you using?"

Lu Deyang waved his hand with a smile and said, "A magician never reveals his secrets."

Monica walked back and asked, "What if I’m the one asking?"

"I still wouldn't tell. Secrets make a man more mysterious," Lu Deyang said with a wink, then grabbed Monica’s hand and ran, sparing himself from the crowd trying to figure out if he had hidden the burger on his person.

...

*“Let your youth blow through your long hair, let it guide your dreams...”*

Riding the RS500, Lu Deyang couldn't help but hum the melody. Monica rested her face against his back, sitting quietly on the passenger seat, asking nothing. It was a pity there were no bridal shops on the street.

"I'm feeling a bit homesick lately. Could you take me back?" Monica suddenly asked.

"Of course. Who knows, maybe your father will see me and immediately prepare a massive dowry," Lu Deyang teased.

In Italy, there was a tradition similar to a bride-price, though it was largely symbolic. Dowries, however, were significant—they were a family's way of ensuring their daughter's security, something she could keep even in the event of a divorce. Parents all over the world worried about their daughters' well-being after marriage; it was only in some places that they preferred to just send over three quilts.

It was too late to return to Milan, so Lu Deyang pulled the bike up in front of a hotel.