Destined Entwining: Capturing My Devoted Beau

Chapter 833: Chapter 419: Silence Is Golden

Later, she unplugged the cable behind the TV and started watching through the antenna, finally able to see the local TV’s English programs.

But it’s afternoon now, and there isn’t much worth watching.

A soap opera with over a thousand episodes about rich family feuds was still airing, all about you sleeping with her, her sleeping with him, him sleeping with her mother.

Utterly boring.

Lawrence Winters sighed; it seemed this place wasn’t suited for a long stay and she needed to wrap things up quickly.

Otherwise, she’d either turn the place upside down or it would assimilate her.

The environment’s impact on people is terrifying.

Lawrence turned off the TV, then moved the two large suitcases to the left side of the bed and opened one to take out the bedspread and sheets, laying them on top of the existing sheets.

She then took out a pillow and a towel blanket.

It’s summer now, though New York doesn’t seem too hot yet.

There’s no air conditioning in the room, only a floor fan.

If it gets hot, this place will likely turn into a steamer, relying on just an electric fan to get by.

Lawrence prayed silently that she could endure these seven days.

Previously, when traveling around the country with Nick Zeller to observe feng shui, she’d never stayed in such a shabby place.

She shook her head, tidied up the room, changed her clothes, and put her passport, wallet, and personal items into her Coach accordion bag, carrying it out the door.

As she walked through the corridor, the doors to Big D and Sally’s room were firmly locked, and sounds from inside were embarrassing.

Lawrence lightened her steps, thinking expressionlessly that she should be careful; the doors here didn’t block sound.

Descending from the second floor, she greeted the middle-aged ”sloth” woman who’d given her the keycard earlier: ”Sister Tian, I’d like to go out for dinner. Do you have any good recommendations?”

The woman, surnamed Tian, had her signature on the receipt Lawrence had seen.

Sister Tian slowly raised her head, looked at her, seemingly pondering, and after a while, said with effort: ”Turn left when you go out... walk straight... turn right, there are many restaurants.”

Lawrence nodded, ”Thank you, Sister Tian.”

The woman seemed to find Lawrence polite, and as a newcomer compatriot, she added a few words: ”You can look for restaurants with little lantern marks. Those are quite proper restaurants, so you can eat with peace of mind.”

Lawrence thought, since there are ”proper restaurants,” there must be ”improper restaurants.”

But should ”improper” restaurants still be able to operate? Isn’t foreign food hygiene said to be stricter than domestic?

Lawrence was full of doubts but still thanked Sister Tian again before heading out alone.

Following Sister Tian’s directions, after turning left out the door, Lawrence walked straight ahead and turned right at the first intersection.

Sure enough, there were lots of restaurants there, their signs prominently displayed, almost protruding from the second-floor facades, eager for passersby to notice.

There were cozy-looking and affordable tea restaurants, formal restaurants representing various regional Chinese cuisines, and western restaurants with a Chinatown flair.

Lawrence wasn’t actually hungry; she just wanted to check out the local area, scout it out.

She walked back and forth along the street, scrutinizing the restaurants with and without lantern marks.

To be honest, she couldn’t see any difference.

They were all similarly outdated and ancient, yet they were clean, far cleaner than the street she’d just come from.

It seemed dining sanitation standards were indeed better.

Lawrence felt slightly reassured.

She thought for a moment and found the most upscale restaurant along the street and walked in.

This restaurant’s sign also had a lantern mark, and it boasted an impressive name, ”Gilbert Family Cuisine.”

The name was irresistible to Lawrence.

The only historical figure with the surname Gilbert she knew was Jeremy Gilbert, who had been her idol as a child.

Nick Zeller was the best storyteller of tales from Romance of the Three Kingdoms, filled with heroes shedding tears over Jeremy Gilbert’s untimely death, a story that captivated Lawrence.

More importantly, this restaurant had an outdoor terrace, adorned with grapevines and strings of small lights meandering through green leaves.

Under the vines were several tables and chairs, perfect for dinner, enjoying the evening breeze, and watching street scenes, popular among tourists.

Lawrence couldn’t resist; upon entering, she requested to sit outside on the terrace.

She arrived relatively early, just after five, with the sun poised to dip below New York’s high-rises, the ground shimmering with heat, people beginning to splash water, creating a hazy mist.

The female waitress inside the restaurant, seeing her polite demeanor, nodded with a smile and led her to the terrace outside the restaurant, saying, ”Little sister, sit over here.”