Wine and Stories

After laughing, the girl stood up, then turned and left the church.

When she reached the door, she even looked back and smiled at Sun Hao and the others.

Sun Hao swallowed.

What rank had Fernandez said churches were for chance encounters again?

But by the time they came out of the church, the woman was long gone.

Just like countless times before, their plan for a chance encounter had fallen through again.

"How about we check out a bar tonight?"

Fernandez suggested first.

They said practice was the sole criterion for testing The Truth.

They had tried so many times without success, so they could only bring out the big guns.

Bars were ranked first among places for chance encounters.

"You're underage. You can't go."

Sun Hao immediately crushed his hopes.

More than two years had passed, and Sun Hao had come of age, but Fernandez was only fourteen.

If you weren't old enough, no matter how much you thought about it, it was just wishful thinking.

"No, I know where there's an underground bar in Sicily."

But what Sun Hao had not expected was that Fernandez had even looked into underground bars!

This guy had come prepared!

But that wasn't right. Hadn't Sicily been a last-minute decision?

"Want to go? I paid someone for the information while you were spacing out earlier."

Fortunately, Fernandez quickly explained.

This guy really had not been idle.

Sun Hao nodded.

How boring could two people who were always together get sitting in a café?

They had already experienced that the last time they were in Zaragoza.

If they did it again in Sicily, they would probably go crazy.

Of course, more importantly, whether they could really have a chance encounter was secondary now. The main thing was to experience it.

After all that effort, if they still could not meet anyone, that would be the biggest failure.

Most importantly... they had already been trying for two years.

Sicily had three famous specialties: lemons, olive oil, and wine.

Sun Hao had already seen lemons and olive oil when he first arrived in Sicily.

As for wine, the vineyards scattered throughout the outskirts and the wineries near them made it impossible to miss.

The underground bar Fernandez had found was inside an ordinary-looking winery.

If you had not come specifically for it, you would never have imagined there was more to the winery than met the eye.

The bar was in the basement. Fernandez gave the password he had paid to learn, and the owner at the entrance let them in.

The moment they entered the basement, pounding metal music assaulted their eardrums.

Looking up, they saw plenty of men and women drinking and having fun inside.

There was a stage in the center of the bar, with a full band performing on it.

Though it was an underground bar, it looked quite legitimate.

What was more unusual was that when they reached the counter, they found that many of the recommended drinks were wines.

That was certainly a strong local touch.

They ordered two glasses of white wine, then found a place to sit.

The first thing Sun Hao did after sitting down was drink, but Fernandez had already gotten up to look for a target.

This guy was seriously impatient.

Still, this white wine really did taste different. It was a little sweet and a little astringent, with that unmistakably authentic flavor.

This underground bar had not been a wasted trip.

After drinking for a while, Fernandez still had not returned.

Sun Hao leaned back on the sofa. Perhaps because of the bar's atmosphere, scenes began flashing through his mind.

At first, it was the woman they had met in the church during the day: that seductive pose, that stunning glance, and the look back over her shoulder as she left.

She really was a beautiful Italian woman!

But gradually, that image was replaced by Jocelyn's face.

Her flower-like smile after putting on makeup, the deep kiss outside the hotel, and those words.

Earlier, when Fernandez had told him to go to America and find Jocelyn, he had refused.

He had to refuse, because that was not who he was.

But after drinking, Sun Hao realized something.

Even after more than two years, he had not truly let go.

It was the first relationship he had encountered in twenty-eight years of his previous life, plus three years of this one—a total of thirty-one years.

It was a little embarrassing to say, but it had been his first love!

Even though it had lasted only three days.

"Sun! Sun!"

Fernandez's shout pulled Sun Hao back to reality.

Sun Hao shook his head, only then noticing that Fernandez had returned—and brought two women with him.

"It's you?"

Once he got a clear look, his eyes filled with disbelief.

Because one of the two women was the woman he had met in the church that morning!

Long legs, a floral dress, a slim waist, a silver short-sleeved top, a devilish figure, long slightly wavy hair, and that face.

The church had been dim that morning, so he had only been able to make out the general outline.

Now, in the bar, she exuded an air of mature femininity.

If Jocelyn was an apple that was green with a hint of red, then the woman before him was fully ripe, the kind that would fall at the slightest touch.

Her high nose bridge and full lips were overflowing with Italian charm.

"It's you."

The woman replied with a smile.

Their eyes met, and something called fate shone in both their gazes.

Sun Hao smiled and nodded.

First Jocelyn, and now this woman.

He suddenly felt that after transmigrating, his luck with women seemed to have improved.

"Angela."

"Sun."

The woman took the initiative to offer her hand. Sun Hao stood and shook it, introducing himself as well.

Her skin was very smooth.

Meeting in a bar, everyone was strangers. Getting to know each other required a certain feeling.

Either their eyes had to meet, or they had to be good-looking enough, or someone had to casually flaunt their wealth.

Since Sun Hao and Angela had met before in the church, they could skip all those steps.

And soon, they were chatting away.

Angela was a local from Sicily, while Sun Hao was a tourist, so naturally they had no shortage of topics.

For example, Sicilian puppet theater and how it differed from puppet theater in China.

For example, how this place had once been the birthplace of the Mafia, and the stories that had been passed down.

For example, the changes Archimedes had brought to this island city after becoming famous.

And as the wine went down, their conversation began to grow more intimate.

For example, Angela's age.

For example, Angela's skin.

Italian women had healthy skin. Many Victoria's Secret supermodels from here seemed to reflect light on stage.

Their skin was not naturally like that.

Sunbathing every day, followed by bathing and moisturizing—that was their secret.

And the moisturizers they used were not those so-called skincare products mixed with all sorts of natural ingredients.

They used ancestral secrets, the kind their grandmothers and mothers would tirelessly nag them about.

Olive oil, or lemons.

Olive oil was called "the gold of the gods" in Italy.

Because it contained anti-aging vitamin E and moisturizing squalene, it was wildly loved by women in Italy.

As they talked, Angela gave Sun Hao a live demonstration.

She took out a bottle of olive oil from her bag and poured some onto her hand.

Then, right in front of Sun Hao, she spread it evenly over every inch of exposed skin.

From top to bottom, from left to right.

Sun Hao felt the wine's aftereffects kicking in. He was getting a little lightheaded.

At some point, their seats had changed, and Angela was already sitting beside Sun Hao.

The topics they discussed grew even more intimate.

Angela seemed to have drunk too much as well, and began talking about her own experiences.

She lived here, or rather, she had married into this place.

Her husband had been the son of a vineyard owner here.

Like many ordinary people, they had met and fallen in love at university, then gotten married.

But not long after they married, tragedy came knocking.

In 1990, she—or rather, he—was only 22 years old.

That year, the Gulf War broke out. At the time, Western countries formed a non-binding anti-Iraq coalition made up of more than forty nations.

Italy was one of them.

Her husband, the man his father often cursed as a parasite in the vineyard, volunteered for the army and threw himself into that war.

The Gulf War ended with the coalition's overwhelming victory, but there was one thing that inevitably happened in war: people died.

Unfortunately, her husband was one of the numbers reported in the news.

She had barely begun her newlywed life before becoming a widow.

Then she still had to endure her father-in-law, who was often drunk.

"I hate this place, but I can't leave, because this is my husband's home."

By the end, Angela's eyes had reddened, making her look heartbreakingly pitiful.

And at some point, Angela had already leaned against Sun Hao.

But Sun Hao was feeling rather muddled.

This damn wine had a much stronger kick than he had imagined.

I suspect you're actually a book. Otherwise, why do I get sleepier the longer I look at you?

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