I didn’t know what to say to that. Then, in less than five minutes, Philip pulled to a stop in front of an elegant entrance. Out of nowhere, a young man arrived and took Philip’s key with extended hand, into which Philip stuffed a few bills.

“This is the very famous Russian Tea Room,” Philip said as he held my elbow and gently steered me into the lobby filled with elegantly dressed people, milling around or occupying thick, red leather seats amidst Tiffany lamps and luscious oil paintings of flowers and landscapes.

“We’re not dining here, but on the higher floor in the Palace.” He cast me a conceited, mysterious glance.

I understood right away why this was called the Palace the moment I stepped inside the dining hall. The ceiling was almost two stories high with a huge chandelier hanging low like an old womb. Crystals, like diamonds, shot their dazzle in all directions, not missing a soul. Everything seemed to be floating in gold, silver, and vibrant red.

A tuxedoed waiter led us to a seat at the corner under a floral oil painting and took our orders for drinks. In no time, he came back with a bottle of red wine and a glass for Philip and a Coke for me. Since I had had my “fatty” earlier and was not hungry, I decided to skip the appetizer and Philip said he would do the same to keep me company.

After the waiter scribbled down our orders and left, Philip clinked his glass against mine. “Welcome to the Big Apple, Meng Ning.”

“Thank you,” I said, feeling a little breathless in the company of such a gorgeous man.

Now I noticed that Philip was wearing a perfectly tailored beige suit and a gold silk tie. His thick mop of blond hair swayed to his fluid movements as if it had a life of its own. When he talked, he gestured a lot with his delicate hands and sensuous fingers. His eyes, blue and unfathomable as the night sky, possessed a dreamy expression as if he were forever enamored with this floating world.

“You like Coke a lot?”

“Yes, it’s my favorite Western beverage.”

“You want to try my fifty-year-very-old Château Lafite-Rothschild?”

“What’s that? No thanks.” Then I felt I had to challenge his emphasis on the very-old drink. “Philip, things have to be at least three to four hundred years old to be considered very old.”

He chuckled; sparks flicked in his blue eyes like twinkling stars. He changed the subject. “Since you dismiss my silver Lotus, hope you like this gold Palace?”

What should I say? The whole place smelled of money-old or nouveau-but to get rich was not my goal in life. Besides, as Yi Kong always pointed out, riches are transient and illusory.

However, I put on a stunning smile to match the stunning face across from me. “I think anyone would be impressed by the Louvre or Buckingham Palace. Only I would never live in such a place-too uncomfortable to inhabit, just like your Lotus.”

“Meng Ning, what secret formula do you possess to make yourself so likeable? “Philip stared straight at me, his voice sincere; his expressive blue eyes were now the color of Van Gogh’s starry sky. “Can I have the pleasure of knowing you better?”

Before I could respond, he continued. “How come I’m always a step behind Michael?” He let out a chuckle. Now his hair glistened like Van Gogh’s sunflower under the restaurant’s golden light. “Otherwise you could have been my fiancée. Why is he always so lucky to get the best?”

“Philip, don’t you already have all the best in life? Your Lotus, your practice…” I wanted to say your movie-star good looks, but stopped myself just in time. I definitely didn’t want him to think that I was attracted to him romantically… Then my heart started to pound. Was I?

He squeezed my hand with his perfectly manicured one. “Maybe, Meng Ning, but I haven’t gotten the best woman.” He sipped his fifty-year-old drink meditatively, then said, “I’ve been with lots of women in my thirty-six years, but none as beautiful nor unique as you.”

“Philip, you barely know me.” Although I was flattered by what he said, he also made me feel uncomfortable. Hai, that’s exactly what Yi Kong told me over and over-never trust men, handsome or ugly, rich or poor, Oriental or Occidental.

“You’re definitely an old soul. I had this gut feeling the moment Michael introduced you to me.” He paused, his expression turning very tender and his voice intoxicating. “Meng Ning, allow me to be bold…I think maybe we were soul mates in our past lives.”

Before I knew how to respond, he went on. “To be honest, I’ve never known any woman who can bring out so much tenderness in my whole being. Right now, my heart is aching.”

“Philip, please…” While not knowing what to say, I felt a heat growing inside me and radiating through my whole body. I downed some more icy Coke while my eyes devoured the face of this Hollywood-handsome man, seemingly so approachable, and yet so distant.

Just then the waiter returned with our food. “Scampi with pasta for madame and steak tartare for the gentleman. Enjoy.”

The food was delicious, the drink soothing, and the setting romantic. Under the dazzling, yellowish light, Philip’s strong cheekbones and sharp jaw looked like they were chiseled from a sculpture. He looked very manly in a slightly disreputable way-a completely different kind of man from Michael. He was so excessively handsome that he seemed impossible to reach-even though he was sitting right across from me. But then why would he want to reach me so eagerly? Did he want me to be his next toy, a China doll, like his Lotus? Or just because Michael had asked him to tend to me while he was away?

We ate in silence for a while. The only sound was the pleasant clinking of the forks, knives, glasses, and dishes. I also noticed a few women-young and old-shooting envious glances toward me. The young girl across from our table accompanied a wrinkle-faced, richly dressed old man. The sexy girl at the table next to her seemed to draw away from her horse-faced nerd companion.

I tried but failed to suppress the corners of my lips from rising.

Philip looked at me curiously. “Hope you at least like your food. Good?”

The scampi melted inside my mouth. “It tastes like it was cooked by an imperial chef in an ancient palace where if the emperor took only one bite instead of two, the cook would be executed.”

“Wow, that’s really dramatic! I like that.” Philip smiled, showing his perfect white teeth. “There are two things I really love in life-good food and beautiful, intelligent women.”

“Me, too,” I said, spearing another scampi, “especially women. That’s why I am so close to my Buddhist nun mentor. She is beautiful, like a film star.”

“But Buddhist nuns have to shave their heads, right?” Philip took a hearty bite of his raw steak. “I can’t imagine a bald woman being attractive.”

“Not until you see my mentor.”

He was now sipping his wine thoughtfully. “But why would you have a nun as a mentor?”

I blurted out, “Because I wanted to be a nun, and it’s Michael who…” I stopped.

“You did? Michael never told me that!” He scrutinized me intensely. The blue of his eyes shone like a sapphire under the mysterious full moon. “That would be such a waste. Meng Ning, promise me, never try again to be a nun. Anyway, I don’t like nuns.”

“Why? These women are very nice, compassionate people,” I said, picking at my vegetables.

“Because they don’t like men! That really irks me, especially those pretty ones. They deprive men who deserve good women.”

I’d never thought of it that way.

He cut off another chunk of meat and put it into his mouth. I noticed the color of his sensuously moving lips matched exactly his blood-streaked steak. “Your naïveté makes you so appealing,” he said.

“Thanks, but I’m already thirty, so I don’t think I’m that naïve.” I tried but failed to twirl the pasta onto the fork.