hollywood billionaire

Chapter 581 You Are My Paris
"Nineteen-year-old Barbara..." Han Yi took her hand, crossed the pedestrian crossing, and stood in front of the off-white Ottoman building. "What is her daily life like?"

"Hmm..." Barbara tilted her head, seemingly trying to recall, "If she didn't have work or an interview that day, she would sleep until she naturally woke up, around... 7:30?"

"I woke up naturally at 7:30." Han Yi's lips twitched. "I must be hallucinating."

“What can I say? This is your super disciplined girlfriend.” Barbara raised her arm, proudly showing Han Yi her biceps hidden under her coat. “Getting up early is the best thing you can do for your health, I promise. And don’t worry, I’ll gradually adjust your biological clock to be the same as mine.”

"I feel like it's the same now," Han Yi laughed. "These past few days, haven't I been getting up before seven o'clock every day?"

“Yes, that’s true.” Barbara looked at him with a smile. “Doesn’t it feel great? Those extra few hours make the day feel much longer, and you can get a lot of things done.”

"More importantly, there are few wonderful pleasures in the world that can compare to the first cup of coffee you have when you wake up in the morning."

"So, back then, the first thing you did after waking up was rush downstairs to that coffee shop over there for an espresso, right?" Han Yi pointed to the small, bustling coffee shop across the street, whose red awning stretched almost into the middle of the road.

“No, that’s not true.” Barbara shook her head in denial. “Although there’s a coffee shop on each side of this apartment building, less than twenty meters away, I hardly ever went inside during the two years I lived here.”

"Why?" Han Yi asked, somewhat surprised. "Those two companies both looked pretty good to me."

“It’s really nice, but I bought a coffee machine for the apartment,” Barbara explained. “Every morning, the first thing I have to do is brew coffee with beans that my parents sent from Budapest. It’s a ritual in my life, an indispensable one.”

"It's the 'fekete' you mentioned to me before, right?"

“Exactly,” Barbara replied. “It’s funny, isn’t it? When I go back to Budapest, I always want to take my parents to be trendy, to drink soy milk lattes and stuff like that. But when I get to Paris, I start to miss the taste of home and insist on drinking traditional Hungarian coffee. No matter how the world changes, one thing remains constant—I am Hungarian. I was, I am, and I always will be. These beans always remind me of that, and that’s why, even in the craziest of times, they help me find inner peace.”

"That's good." Han Yi shrugged. "No matter where you go, you should remember where you came from, so that you will know where you are going."

"That's the idea... However, although we don't drink coffee outside, my roommates and I will go to that coffee shop if we're too lazy to cook."

She pointed to a restaurant across the street with large glass windows and a dark green sign that read "Le Marché des Enfants Rouges Café".

“Enfants… Rouges.” Han Yi picked out two French words he barely recognized. “Red children? Is that what it means?”

“There’s also Marché in front of it, so together it means Red Boy Market Cafe,” Barbara explained. “To be honest, their food isn’t particularly outstanding, just average. But their biggest advantage is the variety; they have everything, and—”

She pointed to the opening hours on the small blackboard at the entrance: "It's open for a super long time. From 7 a.m. to 1 a.m., and even until 2 a.m. on Fridays and Saturdays."

"It sounds like a good place."

"Isn't that right? No matter if we overslept in the morning, finished work too late at night, or even came back from a party in the early morning, as long as we want something hot, this place is always open. If the three of us are too lazy to cook for ourselves one day, this will be our personal canteen."

"I understand." Han Yi nodded. "Just like my BCD."

“Yes, just like your BCD.” Barbara had heard about the restaurant her boyfriend frequented most near USC.

"It's always these seemingly unremarkable but warm and cozy places that can create a sense of home for us who are not in our hometown," Han Yi said.

“Yes.” Barbara’s gaze swept across the traffic to the coffee shop across the street. “The reason I often eat there is because every time I step into the shop, I feel a sense of belonging to the community. It’s very welcoming and lively… just like now.”

On Sunday, near noon, the Red Boy Market Cafe was experiencing its busiest time of the day.

Through the large glass window—which was now shrouded in a thin layer of mist due to the temperature difference between indoors and outdoors—they could clearly see the bustling scene inside, where every seat was taken.

Waiters carried silver trays, deftly moving between the narrow tables and chairs, with steaming coffee cups and brightly colored juices standing steadily on them.

The place was packed with all sorts of people. There were old-fashioned Parisian gentlemen wearing berets, engrossed in reading Le Figaro. There were young people, clearly still hungover, their hair disheveled, surviving on a huge Americano – probably a picture of Barbara and her roommate back then. And most of all, there were local families enjoying Sunday brunch.

Children were playing, and parents were chatting, sharing the week's events. The table was piled high with croissant crumbs, half-eaten omelets, and glasses of golden mimosa cocktails, a Sunday brunch staple.

It's not surprising that they started drinking at noon, since this is the most fashionable and avant-garde Hauts-de-Marne in Paris.

Whenever a guest pushes open the door to enter or leave, the bustling noise briefly spills out onto the cold street.

"However, this coffee shop is just an appetizer."

"is it?"

"Yes, the reason this cafe is called 'Red Boy Market' is because it's located right next to this market."

After saying that, Barbara took Han Yi's hand and slipped into a narrow alley less than thirty meters from the restaurant.

"If I had to pick a place that feels like home, this is where I feel the strongest sense of home."

The entrance is inconspicuous and even somewhat dilapidated, with a red sign that reads "Marché des Enfants Rouges".

After passing through a narrow passage, the view suddenly opened up before me.

Han Yi once again felt that dramatic shift in scale. If the Upper Mahei district outside was sophisticated and fashionable, then this indoor market was vibrant, rough, and even a little bit charmingly chaotic.

This place lacked the meticulously crafted luxury of the George V residence they stayed at; it was more like… a food-themed United Nations plaza. Under the low ceiling, stalls of all sizes were crammed together. The air was filled with a complex aroma of spices, cheeses, freshly baked bread, and cooking fumes.

The market's roof was an old-fashioned steel-framed glass structure, and the winter sun streamed through the glass, bathing the entire space in a warm golden light. Stalls were packed tightly together; on the left was an Italian delicatessen, its walls adorned with salami and Parma ham. On the right were Moroccan tagines, their earthenware pots bubbling away. A few steps further, there were Lebanese burritos stalls, and beyond that, Japanese bento shops. People crowded into the narrow aisles or sat on simple bar stools at the stalls, talking loudly and laughing heartily.

“Welcome to the oldest indoor market in Paris.” Barbara opened her arms like a proud tour guide. “It was built in 1615, almost… the complete opposite of the Four Seasons Hotel George V.”

"Why is this place called Red Boy?" Han Yi turned around halfway around but didn't see any marks that matched the name.

“The name is because…” Barbie pulled him aside, avoiding a waiter who was carrying two large plates of steaming tagine.

“This used to be an orphanage. Back then, all the adopted children wore red uniforms. So, when people saw children wearing red clothes on the street, they knew they came from this orphanage. Over time, everyone started calling them ‘Red Boys’.”

She pointed to the paving stones under her feet: "This market was built in 1615 on the site of that orphanage. Although the orphanage has long since moved away, the name 'Red Boy' has been preserved as a mark of this place and has been passed down to this day."

"Paris is a place where stories are told everywhere."

“Yes, it’s these stories that make up Paris. This market has been the stomach of the Haut-Marie district for centuries. But it declined for a while in the 70s and 80s. Business got worse and worse, and it became dirty and dilapidated. By the 90s, it was almost abandoned, and the government even planned to demolish it completely and rebuild it into… I guess, a parking lot or some other modern building.”

"That's such a pity."

"Yes! So at that time, the entire Marais district stood up. They organized protests and petitioned to save this place. They felt it was part of the community's history and the heart of their neighborhood life. In the end, they succeeded. The Paris city government included the market in its preservation plan, renovated it, and reopened it, which is what you see now. It has local traditional food as well as treasures from all over the world."

She was clearly familiar with the place, skillfully leading Han Yi through the crowd and introducing everything as if she knew it by heart.

"This Moroccan restaurant is amazing, but the line is always incredibly long. That Japanese sushi place is so authentic, it's my roommate's favorite. And this one..."

She stopped in front of a small shop with the longest queue. The sign above the shop read "Chez Alain Miam Miam" in handwriting.

“If I don’t want to go too far and just want something simple, I’ll come to this place – Chez Alain Miam Miam – for the best sandwiches in all of Paris.”

"The best food in all of Paris?" Barbara's comment activated Han Yi's food radar.

"Their sandwiches are... a combination of all the delicious things you can imagine. My favorite is their crème brûlée with smoked duck breast sandwich—the baguette is toasted to a crispy exterior and a soft interior, topped with a thick layer of crème brûlée cheese that melts slightly from the residual heat of the bread, then topped with thick slices of smoked duck breast, fresh arugula, fig jam, and a few chopped walnuts..."

"It sounds like..." Han Yi swallowed hard, "...incredibly high in calories."

"But it's delicious!"

"No wonder." Han Yi pretended to suddenly realize something and looked her up and down. "After all these years in the fashion industry, you're still a 'plus-size model'? So that's because you eat this kind of stuff every day."

"So what?" Barbara raised her chin and snorted. "Anyway, no matter what my weight or figure is, or whether I can control my mouth or not, people still keep asking me for work."

She joined the queue, turned around and said to Han Yi, "You wait, today I'm going to change your perception of sandwiches."

Twenty minutes later, the two finally received their steaming hot sandwiches. Following the example of those around them, they squeezed together at a small communal table next to the stall.

Han Yi took a big bite.

The bread's crust is so crispy it crumbles, while the inside becomes incredibly soft because it has absorbed the juices from the melted cheese and vegetables.

"How is it?" Barbara looked at him expectantly.

"Oh my god," Han Yi mumbled, "this is so delicious." The richness of the avocado, the savory flavor of the smoked duck breast, and the intense nutty taste of the canti cheese blended perfectly together. The sweetness of the fig jam balanced the heaviness of the cheese, the arugula brought a refreshing taste, the chopped walnuts added layers of flavor, and the final touch of honey sweetness and chili spice was the perfect finishing touch.

“I knew it!” Barbara smiled smugly. “This is our lunch today.”

The two found a small table in a corner of the market and sat down. Around them were local residents coming and going: elderly ladies pushing shopping carts, young mothers with children, and office workers in suits queuing up to buy lunch at the stalls.

“You know what,” Barbara said between bites, “every time I come here, I feel incredibly at ease. Nobody cares who you are. Everyone is just living their lives earnestly.”

“I understand. I now find this kind of ordinary life quite interesting.” Han Yi agreed. “Although I really like the towering steel forest of New York, to be honest, ancient cities like Paris, which have stood for thousands of years… places that have evolved slowly from natural settlements and have carried almost the entire history of a nation, are indeed more charming.”

He looked around at the vibrant stalls and weathered walls: "And I feel that as I get older and gain more experience, I'm really starting to appreciate places like this more and more."

"Huh?" Barbara nudged him and teased, "Sir, you're only twenty-two, a year younger than me. Why are you making such pronouncements about age?"

Han Yi simply smiled, offering no defense, nor could he. His secret of being reborn was one that no one would believe, even if he revealed it.

"Perhaps everyone experiences the passage of time differently, so their perception of their psychological age is also different."

After finishing their sandwiches, the two continued walking and arrived at the entrance of a grocery store called Grandepicerie.

“This shop,” Barbara stopped, but didn’t go in, “is absolutely worth a visit if you’re really going to live in Paris. While some things are ridiculously expensive, they only sell the best products and are very selective about their suppliers.”

Do you come here often?

“Occasionally. They also have some private label products, which are reasonably priced.” Barbara thought for a moment. “What I like most is their butter; it’s high quality and there’s a wide variety. Sometimes on weekends when I want to cook a nice meal, I come here to buy the best ingredients.”

"Butter?" Han Yi raised an eyebrow, teasing his girlfriend, "If you keep eating like this, you'll turn into a plus-size model."

"As long as I'm thinner than you, that's fine." Barbara pinched his belly, belittling him wantonly.

"Hey!" Han Yi pretended to protest, then exchanged a smile with Barbara.

That's how the two of them get along; they bicker and tease each other constantly, but they never take jokes to heart.

After walking a few more steps, Barbara suddenly slapped her forehead.

"Oh dear! I almost forgot about this!"

Without a word, she dragged Han Yi into a cute-looking little shop, Lu Lu French Crepe Shop. The shop was small, with only a few tables, and the decor was simple and cozy, with pictures of various crepes hanging on the walls.

"Two LiLou, please." Barbara ordered skillfully.

A few minutes later, a steaming hot French crepe was served. The thin, crispy crepe was topped with Serrano ham, arugula, Parmesan cheese shreds, and cherry tomatoes, and drizzled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

"I'm trying to lose weight, Barbie." The sandwich he just ate wasn't enough, and Han Yi always loved biscuits, so before Barbara could even react, his mouth was already stuffed full of delicious food again. "Don't spoil me."

“There’s still plenty of time, we can reduce the amount tomorrow.” Barbara waved her hand generously, then looked at him with a smile, “Is it good?”

"Delicious." Han Yi gave a thumbs up. "I especially like anything that looks like a pizza."

“Me too!” Barbara clapped her hands excitedly. “Then we made a promise. Next summer, we’ll go to southern Italy, to Naples, to eat the most authentic Italian pizza! You absolutely can’t imagine how delicious the pizza there is. There’s one pizza with anchovies and plum sauce on top, it’s so delicious it’ll make you want to cry.”

"Stop talking." Han Yi changed his raised finger from thumb to index finger. "Count me in."

"It's a deal." Barbara smiled and gave her boyfriend a high five.

Having eaten their fill and feeling satisfied, the two, now with renewed energy, continued on their way. They walked and stopped intermittently, heading east along Rue Brittany for three blocks, then turning south onto Rue Tourenne. After walking for about ten more minutes, a wide-open square came into view.

Place des Vosges.

It was one o'clock in the afternoon, and the winter mist had almost completely dissipated, allowing Paris to enter its most enchanting golden hour. The sky was a pure, clear blue, and the sunlight, though bright, was not glaring, evenly bathing the buildings around the square, a unified style of red brick and beige stone.

Children played everywhere on the lawn, chasing each other and laughing, their pure joy infecting everyone who passed by. Young people sat reading on benches, elderly people meditated with their eyes closed, and couples basked in the sun together. Under the shade of the trees, several elderly gentlemen played chess, their hearty laughter echoing through the air. Melodious music drifted from the café in the arcade, where people sipped coffee at outdoor tables, lazily enjoying the beautiful afternoon.

What attracted Han Yi and Barbara's attention the most was an old man with white hair blowing bubbles in the center of the square.

He looked to be at least seventy years old, wearing a slightly worn but clean brown overcoat. Several red plastic buckets filled with soapy water sat in front of him. He held two long poles with rope nets of varying meshes tied between them.

He dipped the rope net into the red bucket, slowly lifted it up, and then gently pulled it in the breeze.

A miracle happened.

A long string of colorful bubbles emerged one after another from the grid. They varied in shape, some as small as pearls, some as large as basketballs, and some even formed a long dragon. In the golden sunlight, these bubbles reflected a rainbow-like brilliance, floating lightly into the sky, across the lawn, and towards the cheering children.

The children surrounded the old man, squealing with excitement and reaching out to catch the floating bubbles. Whenever a large bubble drifted by, they would hold their breath, chasing it cautiously, afraid of accidentally popping it. And when a bubble actually burst, they would gasp and giggle.

The old man always wore a kind smile. He would occasionally bend down and hand the long pole to the children beside him, teaching them how to make bubbles. When the children successfully made their first bubble, he would gently pat their heads as if they were his own grandchildren, and speak encouraging words in French.

A wicker basket for accepting tips sat on the ground in front of him, but he seemed completely uninterested in making money. Even when someone put money in the basket, he would simply nod, smile and thank them, then continue his bubble show, surrounded by children.

At this moment, the old man was making an exceptionally large bubble. He took a deep breath, gripped an extra-long grid rod with both hands, and slowly drew a perfect circle in the air.

Under the expectant gaze of the children, a giant bubble slowly took shape. It was over a meter wide, as thin as a cicada's wing, yet incredibly resilient. Sunlight streamed through the bubble, flowing across its surface; red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple… all the colors intertwined and shifted on this transparent sphere, like a flowing dream.

The bubble slowly detached from the grid and began to float freely in the air. It rose higher and higher, drifting farther and farther away, and the children looked up to follow it, their faces filled with amazement and longing. A little girl stood on tiptoe, stretching out her arms, trying to reach the beautiful bubble, but it had already floated to the treetops.

Just then, a gentle breeze blew by, the bubble spun slightly, and then burst silently. It transformed into countless tiny water droplets, sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight, slowly scattering down.

"Wow—" the children exclaimed in unison, then burst into joyful laughter.

The old man smiled and shook his head, then began making the next bubble.

Barbara and Han Yi stood not far away, quietly watching all of this.

“So beautiful.” Barbara’s eyes sparkled in the sunlight.

“Yes,” Han Yi replied, his gaze following the floating bubbles. “You know what, I don’t know why, but even though I only stayed in Paris for half a day, I’ve already fallen in love with this city.”

At this point, he turned to look at Barbara, his tone serious: "Perhaps buying a house here... not a mansion, but a cozy, French-style home, and living here for a while, would be a good idea."

Barbara wrinkled her nose and asked, "Buy a house? And who are you planning to live with?"

Han Yi smiled. He reached out and gently stroked her cheek, his gaze deep and focused.

"Of course I'll live with you."

His voice was low and gentle.

"Because, Barbara, you are my Paris."

Before he could finish speaking, he leaned down and kissed her.

Under the shade of the trees in the ancient square, surrounded by hundreds of colorful bubbles, they kissed without a care in the world. The sounds of children's laughter, the distant accordion music from street performers, and the timeless romantic pulse of Paris filled the air.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows. Bubbles floated and swirled around them, some landing on their shoulders, some brushing against their hair, and many more slowly rising beside them, as if blessing the kiss.

The scene is so beautiful, it's like an impressionist oil painting—golden sunlight, green tree shadows, colorful bubbles, and lovers embracing.

For a long time, the lips are divided.

Barbara's cheeks flushed as she leaned against Han Yi and asked softly, "Do you really want to buy a house here?"

"real."

“Okay.” Barbara looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. “Then I’ll take you to the Left Bank in a bit. I’ll show you the place in my opinion that’s the best place for couples or married couples to live in Paris right now.”

"Saint-Germain-des-Prés".

(End of this chapter)