Zhangjing sits on his bed, face flushed and mind going blank. He can’t believe he has done it. 

The truth is, Zhangjing’s grandmother IS the rightful owner of the small fortune telling shop. He is just a normal writer who writes and publishes his books. However, she went on a hot spring trip with her friends a few days ago, and insisted on making Zhangjing look after her shop. Zhangjing never learnt how to tell fortunes. And his grandmother still argued that closing the shop for so many days will eventually lead to losing customers and reputation and eventually the closing of the shop. 

Zhangjing never understood why his grandmother ran a fortune telling business anyways. She could jolly well retire and lie at home all day. And when she left the shop to him, she gave him a cheeky wink, saying that trying new things may bring about new encounters and opportunities. He never knew what it meant, but now he truly understood her words. 

Zhangjing always thought of fortune telling as something only superstitious and stupid people would believe in. There is no scientific proof of fortune telling actually being accurate and the crystal ball shows nothing at all. 

Until he met Yanjun. He was just sitting in his thick clothing, feeling bored and mind drifting off when his first customer ever since he took over the shop stumbled into the shop. The young office worker looked too stupidly gorgeous. Soft dark brown hair with its ends dripping with sweat, slightly furrowed thick eyebrows, intense dark brown eyes, perfectly tall nose, and slightly plum lips pouting a little due to the bad weather. Zhangjing felt his heart stop for a second and never had he ever wanted to meet someone again so badly. And so he lied. He lied that the handsome guy will meet his love on this Saturday. He lied that his “love” of his life will be standing infront of a white building. He lied that his “love” will be wearing a blueish sweatshirt with jeans. 

White lies do exist. Zhangjing comforts himself, feeling terrible about his lies. But he is going to see him again. The beautiful stranger. This Saturday. He lies down on his bed, flips to his right side, and looks at the striped teal sweater and jeans hanging in his closet.  

Maybe fortune telling isn’t that bad after all.