After getting together with Liyan, John rarely went to bars anymore, except for the occasional business gathering arranged by his mother, and he didn't attend social events often. He knew that even if he went out, Liyan wouldn't complain because she was an independent girl who could enjoy her own company. She never asked him to change his habitual lifestyle, but he willingly wanted to spend time with her.

　　Being with John made British food, which Liyan found hard to swallow, taste better, and the unbearable British weather more lovable. In John's company, she was gradually changing her previously overly disciplined lifestyle. Every month, she set aside weekends to relax in small towns around Oxford with John, learning to unwind. She became capable of letting go of things beyond her control rather than blaming herself for not trying hard enough. She no longer saw having fun as something to be guilty about. John, who used to be a procrastinator always looking to slack off, gradually became more diligent. Even tasks he had no interest in, he would take on out of a sense of responsibility. They were both becoming better versions of themselves through each other's influence.

　　Oxford is very close to London, and as archaeology PhD students, they had to visit the British Museum once a month. A visit to the British Museum wouldn't be complete without seeing the Chinese Gallery, filled with countless Chinese artifacts, each a rare treasure. The first thing the British Museum says when introducing Chinese artifacts is that the Chinese have created one of the world's most profound and ancient civilizations.

　　Liyan was studying the history of Chinese porcelain exports under Professor Li. Every time she visited the Chinese Porcelain Gallery, it was like she was rooted to the spot, tirelessly admiring the exhibits all day long. The mesmerizing Hall 95, displaying the David Foundation's collection of Chinese ceramics, was arranged by traditional Chinese colors—crimson red, ginger yellow, sky blue, creamy blue, and rouge purple—like a rainbow descending to earth. Whenever Liyan was captivated by these treasures, especially the unique pieces that had been lost to China, she couldn’t help but wonder when her ancestors' masterpieces would return home.

　　Students studying in Oxford are lucky, as Oxford is the gateway to the Cotswolds, the most beautiful countryside in England. A relic of the industrial era, the Arlington Row wool warehouses are a hallmark of the area, and people still live in these 300-year-old stone houses, leading quaint, lively lives. The Broadway Tower stands in the vast wilderness, offering a panoramic view of twelve surrounding counties. During World War II, it served as an observation post. Lovers are particularly fond of the unverified story that the tower was a gift from a passionate architect to his beloved.

　　Liyan and John often argued about whether Bibury or Broadway was more beautiful, but as soon as they saw a thatched roof, they’d stop arguing and run towards it. When Liyan saw the fairy-tale-like thatched cottages, she couldn't put her camera down. John, seeing Liyan perfectly framed by the beautiful scenery, kept snapping pictures of her.

　　Even in the most famous towns of the Cotswolds, you rarely encounter the crowded tourist spots and over-commercialization seen in Chinese scenic areas; most of the time, it's serene. Even if they were occasionally disturbed by tourists, it was usually groups of middle-aged women dressed in bright clothes, carrying expensive DSLR cameras, taking photos. These women were middle-class housewives from newly wealthy countries in Asia, using overseas travel as a break from their monotonous home life. John and Liyan only had to leave for a while, walk around for an hour, and by the time they returned, the tourists would be gone, leaving the beautiful place to themselves again. Occasionally, groups of hikers would stride briskly along the country paths of the Cotswolds, only to disappear after a while.

　　Liyan felt that the tranquility enhanced the beauty of the English countryside. Being surrounded by the exquisite, charming scenery made walking a pleasure. She thought of her hometown, and compared to the roughness of Shanghai, it felt even more peaceful.

　　In Shanghai, there was constant excavation: once the water pipes were laid, it was the cables, then the rainwater and sewage pipes, then the gas pipes. For ten months of the year, the roads were impassable. Newly paved asphalt roads were dug up and repaved before they even hardened, and the air was always filled with the choking smell of asphalt.

　　On sunny days, dust flew everywhere, and cyclists followed behind dirt trucks, eating dust. On rainy days, it was muddy, and the first batch of private car owners would deliberately speed through puddles, splashing pedestrians with mud to flaunt their superiority. Buses were always late, so crowded that the doors couldn’t close, and people clung to each other, refusing to get off. The conductor would frantically poke at them with a small flag, but they wouldn't budge, making sure no one could leave.

　　The city was a maze of construction sites, tower cranes looming and steel frames slicing the sky into pieces. It wasn't long before the city center's horizon disappeared. The incessant noise of piling machines, cement mixers, and the shouts of migrant workers formed a perpetual, year-round symphony. Near the City God Temple, shantytowns were being demolished, and piles of debris became mountains where rats scavenged and mosquitoes and flies swarmed over public toilets. Large red "Demolish" characters marked the remaining walls. Residents cut off from water and electricity resorted to dramatic protests to get better compensation. For many, this was their one chance to improve their lives. Unable to fight the relocation office, they turned on each other, with brothers falling out and sisters-in-law becoming enemies. Families who once lived in harmony were torn apart by the demolition process.

　　Street vendors featured familiar faces. Uncle Zhang from next door nervously muttered, "Soap, anyone?" barely audible above a whisper. Luckily, his wife was more assertive, shouting, "Unemployed workers selling soap! Factory direct! Cheap prices!" attracting passersby. When some doubted the soap's origin due to its lack of packaging, Aunt Zhang would pull out a work ID and say, "My husband and I worked at the Shanghai Soap Factory. Buy a bar and try it. If it's fake, come find me." Reassured, the crowd bought the soap to help out. Many neighbors survived tough times by selling items their companies gave them instead of wages, like towels, wool sweaters, rubber boots, and digital watches. The cries of laid-off workers selling various goods blended into the chaotic soundtrack of the mass layoffs era.

　　Comparing bustling, chaotic Shanghai to the elegant, tranquil England, Liyan couldn't help but wish she could stay in England forever. But she quickly dismissed the thought, feeling that even thinking it was somehow immoral.

　　They both loved London, a city that never gets old. After watching the Tower Bridge lift, John and Liyan would wander through the nearby weekend market. If manors are the essence of British high society, then this market captures the true spirit of the common folk. Originally a wholesale market for vegetables, meat, and poultry, it now offers everything from food and clothing to everyday items and entertainment.

　　Here, you can sample a world of cuisine: Chinese fried noodles, Indian curry, Iranian baklava, Turkish kebabs, and Pakistani lamb trotters. The atmosphere is vibrant, with reasonable prices and authentic flavors. These stalls haven’t been selected, modified, or forced to cater to British tastes, preserving their original authenticity.

　　Antique dealers sell second-hand treasures, but don’t expect to find a bargain—buyers are never as savvy as the sellers. Young designers showcase their unique creations—clothes, handbags, and crafts, all one-of-a-kind. If you like something, don’t hesitate. These talents haven’t been discovered yet and can’t afford high-end boutiques on Regent Street, so they temporarily find refuge in flea markets. Once they make it big, their work will be beyond your reach.

　　Street performances are the biggest draw. A man, shirtless, reveals perfectly sculpted muscles, as a crystal ball glides effortlessly over his hands, shoulders, and back in time with the music, as if the ball had come to life. His fluid performance captivates everyone.

　　Crowds gather in layers, the innermost circle tipping voluntarily and leaving orderly after the show, making way for the second layer to move up. The atmosphere feels like a high-end theater, starkly different from the usual chaotic dispersal after street performances.

　　Success doesn’t mean starring in West End theaters or being center stage at glitzy events. Friendly street performances bridge the gap between artists and audiences without evoking thoughts of desperation or busking, highlighting the artist’s unique nobility.

　　Liyan watched the crystal ball performance three times, and John tipped ten pounds to show his appreciation.

　　They were in high spirits when a gypsy woman slipped up beside them like a snake. She grabbed Liyan's hand and murmured, "Such delicate wrists." Before Liyan could react, the gypsy woman had already tied a bracelet around her wrist, securing it with a tight knot.

　　"I don’t want this," Liyan said, struggling to untie the knot.

　　"It's a gift of love. Sir, wouldn't you buy this for your lovely lady?" the gypsy woman said, full of charm.

　　"Don't listen to her, she's a scammer," Liyan warned, not wanting John to waste money.

　　John knew she was a scammer but was more worried about potential accomplices. Better to lose some money than have Liyan get hurt.

　　"Ten pounds, the gift of love for just ten pounds."

　　"I’ll give you five pounds," John offered, hoping to settle quickly.

　　"Sir, love cannot be bargained. I’ll include a free fortune telling," the gypsy woman insisted.

　　She lifted Liyan's right hand and looked at it carelessly. "This young lady will face ups and downs, but a benefactor will always help her through tough times."

　　Then she grabbed John's hand. "The one you love loves you deeply, and you will have a happy family." With that, the gypsy woman vanished into the crowd.

　　It was then John and Liyan realized their wallets were gone. They were broke, hungry, and their good mood ruined. Fortunately, John's phone wasn’t stolen, and he called Catherine to borrow money for train tickets back to Oxford.

　　The more Liyan thought about it, the angrier she got. She blamed John, "You shouldn’t have bought that bracelet."

　　"It’s a pretty bracelet," John teased.

　　"I’m serious," Liyan said, frustrated that John could still joke. She finally managed to slip the bracelet off her wrist. "We didn’t have to take it. She couldn’t do anything if we just left it." The sharp edge of the bracelet had left two cuts on the back of her hand.

　　“That’s only because you were so mesmerized by the crystal ball performance, staring at that muscular guy like a lovesick puppy. The gypsies had their eyes on us the whole time,” Liyan teased, giving John a light punch.

　　“Blame me? If you had some change ready, you wouldn’t have needed to pull out your wallet to tip the street performer. If you hadn’t shown them where you keep your wallet, they wouldn’t have known where to target,” she chided playfully.

　　John rubbed Liyan’s hand tenderly. “Silly, do you know how many of them there were? What would you have done if they had surrounded you and grabbed your wallet?”

　　“Wouldn’t the police do something?”

　　“The police can’t do much. Gypsies pride themselves on being wild and free, but really, they just don’t want to follow the law. If the police arrest them, they cry ‘racial discrimination.’ Politicians want votes, so they turn a blind eye. Europe’s attempts to assimilate gypsies have mostly failed.”

　　“That’s scary!” Liyan shivered.

　　“No amount of money lost is worth risking your safety,” John said.

　　Realizing she had misunderstood John, Liyan felt touched. He wasn’t just trying to avoid trouble; he was putting her safety first.

　　“The gypsy’s fortune-telling was pretty accurate,” John said with a smile.

　　“You can still joke about this?”

　　“The gypsy woman said you’d have a benefactor in critical moments. We lost our money, and then Catherine, our benefactor, sent us money, didn’t she?”

　　Liyan couldn’t help but laugh. “She also said the person you love loves you back.” She blushed as she spoke.

　　John pulled Liyan close and kissed her deeply.