Chapter Twenty-Three: A Fortunate Mistake

He Ji Ping, whether truly moved or with another purpose in mind, actually invited Yiruo Jieke to join Chen Tianyu’s dinner after the bonfire party ended. It was clear that Yiruo was hesitant, but in the face of her friend’s persistent urging, she reluctantly agreed.

Perhaps He Ji Ping just wanted to see Chen Tianyu embarrass himself, but the man, unfazed, brought his girlfriend and generously treated them to roast lamb. The chosen spot was “Hillside Family Barbecue.”

It was the first time for both Chen Tianyu and his companion to visit this place. The familiar scent of mutton filled the whole room; though the wind outside was strong, inside it was exceptionally warm, and even more so once the stove was lit. The lamb was cut rather roughly, but there was plenty, and it was sure to satisfy.

The four sat facing each other. Chen Tianyu deliberately chose the seat opposite Yiruo, and from the moment they entered, he had been watching her closely. The more he observed, the more he felt this woman possessed a unique allure: unlike He Ji Ping, her skin was pale as snow, smooth and delicate, her eyes large and fringed with long lashes, her irises clear as crystal with a faint bluish gleam. Her hairstyle was distinctive, and everything from her attire and features to her jewelry exuded an exotic charm.

This close observation gave Chen Tianyu a completely new impression, but one thing remained unchanged: in Yiruo’s eyes lingered a subtle, almost imperceptible melancholy.

Such a young woman, on the verge of blossoming, what sorrow could she be hiding?

He Ji Ping mocked him without reservation. “Hey, look any harder and your eyeballs will fall out!”

Chen Tianyu showed no embarrassment at all; his gaze was calm and open. Instead, it was Yiruo whose cheeks flushed with a faint blush, making her even more enchanting.

“It’s only natural to admire beauty,” Chen Tianyu replied coolly.

He Ji Ping shot him a glance, then turned to Liu Zichen, who seemed utterly unbothered.

“I’m curious: why is your girlfriend so composed?” She seemed intent on stirring trouble, almost hoping the couple would quarrel.

Liu Zichen smiled slightly. “He’s his own person. Besides, I’m only his girlfriend, not his wife. It’s not my place to control him.”

He Ji Ping and Yiruo both looked at her, trying to discern if she was lying.

But there was nothing to detect.

Yiruo, who hadn’t spoken until now, suddenly covered her mouth and laughed.

“You two are really amusing!” It was the first time Yiruo spoke, her Mandarin flawless, without a trace of an accent.

With her words, the awkward atmosphere immediately eased, and Chen Tianyu quietly breathed a sigh of relief. To be honest, he wasn’t particularly adept at dealing with women—let alone three at once. Who knew what could happen? But clearly, nothing went wrong.

Yiruo ordered a pot of butter tea. The local diet here was influenced by Tibetan customs. Chen Tianyu took a sip, secretly wrinkling his brow; the tea was hot but not to his taste, with a peculiar flavor.

“You’re probably not used to this kind of tea,” Yiruo said, unexpectedly willing to chat. “But this is our sacred tea. My family even has some sent directly from the Potala Palace…”

Liu Zichen suddenly felt a pang of pity for this girl, a sentiment she couldn’t quite explain. From someone extremely averse to conversation to one who couldn’t help but talk upon finding a sympathetic listener—this was a familiar trait in certain people, and it softened her heart.

“What exactly is butter?” Liu Zichen asked with curiosity. “I’ve heard it’s both a drink and used in butter lamps. It sounds hard to imagine.”

Yiruo smiled for the first time, her charm even more apparent. “My family’s butter tea can be both consumed and used for offering in lamps. I can’t say for others.”

He Ji Ping, intrigued, explained, “Actually, in the past, there was only one kind of butter—the best came from yak’s milk. Some was made from cow or goat milk, but none compared to yak butter. Since butter is essentially oil, of course it can be used in butter lamps.”

“Oh? And what about now?” Liu Zichen asked.

He Ji Ping replied, “Now it’s different. With more tourists, there are more people selling butter, and many temples have deliberately increased the number of butter lamps. Yak butter is expensive; a little is fine, but more becomes unaffordable.”

“So, the butter in lamps now is a substitute?” Liu Zichen asked, beginning to understand.

“Most likely. It’s usually some kind of vegetable butter, which isn’t really edible,” He Ji Ping nodded.

Liu Zichen laughed, “I’ve learned something new.” She took a few more sips and found she actually liked it, perhaps a psychological effect—knowing it was made from yak’s milk changed her taste and perception.

Chen Tianyu interjected, “So, does your family keep yaks?” He was puzzled, since Lugu Lake didn’t seem to have pastures.

Yiruo shook her head, “We don’t raise them; my ayi brings it from another region…”

Chen Tianyu was confused, “Uh… ayi?” He thought she had misspoken.

He Ji Ping laughed, “Ayi means her uncle. It’s not surprising you don’t understand; few people are familiar with Mosuo culture.”

“Oh,” Chen Tianyu realized. “So that’s it.”

“She has plenty of ayis, so her family never runs out of yak butter,” He Ji Ping joked. “Yiruo’s family is quite well-off…”

Yiruo blushed faintly but nodded frankly.

Chen Tianyu wondered silently: “Do wealthy people avoid walking marriages?” But with three women present, it was hardly appropriate to ask.

After a moment’s thought, he ventured, “Yiruo, do you have a boyfriend?”

Before Yiruo could answer, He Ji Ping gave him a strange look, half-smiling.

Chen Tianyu hurriedly added, “I was just asking out of curiosity—you don’t have to answer. I’m naturally inquisitive, and a beautiful girl like you surely has a boyfriend…”

He Ji Ping exposed him without mercy: “Come on, aren’t you really asking about walking marriage? You know you’re in Mosuo country now, but you can’t just ask directly, so you beat around the bush.”

Yiruo stared at him with wide eyes, and Chen Tianyu was at a loss, thinking to himself that He Ji Ping truly was a handful.

Fortunately, Liu Zichen came to the rescue. “Actually, I’m also curious about the walking marriage custom. It’s hard for us modern people to understand. I heard this is a matrilineal society?” She was far more knowledgeable than Chen Tianyu.

He Ji Ping was momentarily taken aback, clearly confused by Liu Zichen’s remarkable composure. This was not how a typical Han woman would react.

“Ji Ping, you don’t have to look at me like that. I know Tianyu well—he’s not that kind of person.” Liu Zichen smiled. “Chatting with you all makes me feel at ease, so why not be straightforward? After all, girls are quick to be suspicious, and Tianyu isn’t very articulate—easier to cause misunderstandings.”

“Ah…” He Ji Ping nodded. “I knew it. Always trying to get information from me, thinking I wouldn’t notice. Hmph, you underestimate me.”

“Sister, I think they’re good people,” Yiruo suddenly said. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

He Ji Ping retorted, “You think everyone is good—like that Xiao…” She abruptly stopped and changed her words, “Be careful.”

Chen Tianyu wasn’t sure if he understood, but he changed tack: “Since we all know each other now, let me be honest. If I really wanted to ask Yiruo out, someone would have arranged it for me tonight…”

He looked at Yiruo, watching for her reaction.

At first, Yiruo was puzzled, but after a while, her mouth opened in surprise, and she covered it instinctively, as if she suddenly remembered something.

“My aimi?!…” Yiruo asked in alarm.