Chapter Forty-Six: Love in Florence

Florence is one of Europe’s renowned beer cities. It’s said that primitive beer brewing began here 1,500 years ago, and today it remains one of the world’s most famous beer-producing regions. Beer halls can be found everywhere along Florence’s streets, and the entire city is filled with the fragrance of beer. Especially in the heat of summer, the outdoor beer gardens become the locals’ favorite gathering spots. Italians are known for their boldness and friendliness, and they enjoy small get-togethers in beer halls, much like how the Chinese gather in teahouses—three or five friends, drinking fine brews, laughing and chatting away.

The place Liu Yunfei and Awari preferred was a dark beer hall beside the Piazza Michelangelo, located on the opposite bank of the Arno River—the best spot for gazing over Florence. The square is named after the central statue of Michelangelo.

After parking and entering the beer hall, Liu Yunfei immediately saw Awari, who had already arrived and was waving to him from a corner. Italians are a relaxed people; though it was only the afternoon, the beer hall was already bustling with voices. In the center, a local traditional band played a cheerful tune.

Prompted by the waitress, Liu Yunfei ordered a large mug of chilled dark beer. Here, every bowl, plate, and glass was frozen—a true delight to drink in such sweltering weather. He took a hearty gulp; the beer was redolent with the aroma of malt and a hint of bitter dryness.

“Sir, would you like anything else?” a gentle voice spoke in Italian behind him. Liu Yunfei started and turned around. It was the Chinese girl he’d seen earlier at the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, now dressed as a waitress, serving the guests. In her uniform, she was like a fresh daisy blooming amid the noisy beer hall, and Liu Yunfei found himself momentarily entranced.

“Have you taken a fancy to that Chinese girl?” Awari noticed the change in his expression.

“No, I saw her this afternoon while admiring Da Vinci’s masterpieces,” Liu Yunfei explained.

“But it seems the girl you like may be in trouble,” Awari said, his eyes fixed behind Liu Yunfei.

Liu Yunfei turned and saw the girl surrounded by several tall white men. Clearly, these were no ordinary patrons: shirtless or in tight vests, tattoos snaking across their bodies, their lewd grins made their intentions all too obvious, even if Liu Yunfei couldn’t understand their Italian.

The girl struggled desperately to break free, but her efforts only emboldened them. They pressed themselves against her, some even slapping her behind. Evidently, these thugs wielded some power—no one in the beer hall dared intervene.

It was the height of summer, and everyone was lightly dressed. With the men tugging at her, the girl’s uniform had been pulled aside, exposing her bra strap, which only made the thugs more brazen as they reached out to grope her. “Let go of me! Let go, you scoundrels!” the girl cried out, struggling with all her might.

Liu Yunfei had just stood up to shout at them, but impulsive Awari was already charging over in anger. “Let her go, you bastards!” he shouted in English, grabbing one thug by the waistband and kicking the back of his knee.

“You little punk!” the thug spat back in English, recognizing Awari as an Arab boy, and immediately the group turned on him.

Awari, well-trained since childhood, managed to throw three of them to the ground within a few exchanges, but as they got up, they each pulled out knives. Fearing Awari would be hurt, Liu Yunfei hurried over, choosing to confront the armed thugs himself and leaving the unarmed ones to Awari.

Liu Yunfei didn’t hold back. He was incredibly strong and fearless in the face of knives. He swiftly disarmed one thug, then landed a punch and a kick in quick succession.

It all happened with little commotion and in far less time than expected. Soon, each thug lay on the ground with broken arms or legs, wailing—likely calling for an ambulance.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Liu Yunfei approached the frightened girl, asking with concern in English. He had no other motive; as a fellow Chinese, he couldn’t ignore helping his compatriot, even if his face now looked Arab.

“Thank you,” the girl replied in a daze, too shaken to adjust her clothes. Liu Yunfei gestured to her exposed shoulder. “Fix your clothes.”

“Oh, thank you.” She quickly tidied herself.

“You’d better leave—they’re not people you want to cross. They’re from Sicily,” the kindly bar owner whispered as he approached.

Italy’s infamous specialty—the Mafia—is known the world over. The Mafia has existed here for centuries, entrenched in various regions and social classes. The Sicilian Mafia is the largest and most ruthless, so powerful that they dare assassinate officials and prosecutors, striking terror into the hearts of Italians.

“Let’s go—this is dangerous. Young lady, you shouldn’t work here any longer,” Liu Yunfei said as he took her hand and led her out. He only wanted to leave this place of trouble as quickly as possible. If any hitmen appeared, he himself could escape unharmed, but with Awari, the girl, and a few servants, things would become far more perilous.

He opened the door of his silver Ferrari for the girl, then vaulted over the other door into the driver’s seat as nimbly as a gymnast. Awari’s servant had already helped him into the car, and Liu Yunfei started the engine, following the convoy at a slow pace.

“It’s alright now. Where do you live? I’ll take you home.”

Following the girl’s directions, they soon arrived at her residence: an old apartment nestled in a corner of the historic city. The hallway was filthy and chaotic, the walls covered in incomprehensible graffiti—hard to imagine such a corner existed in Florence, city of flowers.

Liu Yunfei followed her quietly up to the third floor—not out of particular fastidiousness, but because the stairs were so dusty that even a slight step sent clouds into the air. At the door, she took out her key and opened it. Inside, it was a small one-bedroom apartment. For someone used to living in a castle, Liu Yunfei found it cramped, but the contrast to the squalid corridor was striking: inside, everything was neat and tidy.

The girl invited Liu Yunfei to sit on the sofa. “Would you like something to drink? Well,” she added, embarrassed, “I only have tea.”

“Tea? That’s perfect.” In foreign countries, tea comes in little paper bags—instant tea, with little care for quality. The yellow-green liquid had a fresh aroma, and Liu Yunfei felt as if he’d returned to a friend’s home in his own country.

“Hello, my name is Yu Qing. I’m from China.” She smiled and extended her hand.

Her name suited her perfectly—her smile was like sunlight after the rain: bright but not harsh, radiant yet gentle. As Liu Yunfei thought this, he reached out and lightly shook her hand. “I am Awahid from the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Allah will bless you.” Her hand was small, as delicate as she was, her voice soft.

“Thank you. The Buddha will bless you too,” Yu Qing replied, mimicking his tone and making Liu Yunfei laugh.

“Are you studying in Florence?”

“No, I’m a first-year at the Rome Academy of Arts. I came here to see the Da Vinci exhibition, and since it’s the holidays, I wanted to travel a bit.”

Her tone was playful, almost coquettish, which stirred Liu Yunfei’s heart.

“Oh, but why didn’t you return home for the holidays? Your parents must miss you,” Liu Yunfei said, realizing he sounded a bit like an old man, even though his current appearance was only a few years older than hers.

“Before the holidays, my boyfriend and I planned to travel across Europe together.” She has a boyfriend? Liu Yunfei felt a sudden twinge of disappointment—then quickly chided himself. Why should I care? I have no designs on her. “But right after the holidays started, he changed his mind and we broke up. Now there’s no one to travel with me,” she added.

So, she doesn’t have a boyfriend now? Liu Yunfei felt a sudden, inexplicable joy.