A novelist arrived in Lai Ke Town.
He was not tall, and the thick-soled high heels on his feet clearly added to his height. Even among the Black Feather Clan, he counted as a small one.
Yet his rare black feathers and black pupils, his delicate face untouched by the hardships of life, his refined, educated manner of speech, and his slow, rhythmic gentlemanly stride—not that he was used to these damn high heels—gave him a peculiar air of culture. Before long, he had won the affection of the town's unmarried ladies.
"That's a cultured bird."
Ganna Widow from the mill looked at his ever-calm expression—he was blind—and sighed from the bottom of her heart.
And this "cultured bird" happened to have principles. He was nothing like those city young masters who came from elsewhere to "hunt," easily got involved with someone, then heartlessly left behind an egg and a pitiful lady before returning home.
"He'd make such a thoughtful match."
While he went around gathering material, young ladies from butcher shops and fishmongers always seemed to run into him by chance, trying to make something happen.
".Chris, have I been discovered? Why do I always feel like someone's watching me?"
"Maybe... No, something's wrong. Look at that featherfolk. Didn't we see her twice yesterday? Why are we running into her again?"
Poor Lu PingAn had no idea what was happening. He had merely noticed that lately, whenever he visited different areas under the pretense of gathering material to collect "information," strange gazes seemed to follow him. Yet whenever he looked back, people would conspicuously lower their heads or turn away.
If that could still be dismissed as an illusion, then repeatedly running into several familiar faces around corners was clearly not right.
"Have I been targeted? My disguise should