hollywood billionaire

Chapter 582 Left Bank and Right Bank (Birthday Request for Votes!)
Half an hour later, the two left Place des Vosges without calling a taxi, choosing instead to walk through the narrow alleys of the Lower Marais district towards the Seine.

From the refined order of Place des Vosges, to the winding, bustling medieval alleyways in the heart of the Marais, and then to the wide boulevards that open up near the riverbank, the urban fabric of Paris constantly changes beneath their feet.

The air became more open, carrying the cool, damp feel of the river. They stepped onto the Pont Saint-Louis, a simple pedestrian bridge connecting Île Saint-Louis and Île de la Cité.

It was a winter afternoon, and the sun was beginning to set in the west, its light becoming as rich and warm as melted butter. The bridge was bustling with activity; a street performer was playing the accordion, serenading the area with a light and slightly melancholic chanson. Several tourists were taking pictures of him, while many others, like Han Yi and Barbara, stood in the middle of the bridge, gazing into the distance from the railing.

The sight before them was enough to make anyone stop in their tracks.

Right before them, perfectly aligned, the world-famous silhouette of Notre Dame Cathedral was bathed in the golden rays of the setting sun.

In the winter of 2016, this masterpiece of Gothic architecture had yet to suffer the calamity that would later shock the world. It stood there unscathed, as if it had stood for eight centuries and would stand forever.

Han Yi's breath hitched.

What he saw was a perfect silhouette. Two solid and solemn clock towers stood tall, stabilizing the overall outline of the building. And behind them, from this angle, the exquisite spire, designed by Viollet-le-Duc in 1859 and reaching a height of 93 meters, pierced the azure sky with an elegant yet almost sharp posture.

Sunlight outlines the intricate lines of the flying buttresses on the church's sides, the stone ribs supporting the high walls, creating an incredible sense of lightness in the interplay of light and shadow. The church's stone walls display a complex hue, a product of centuries of wind, dust, and sunlight—a honey-tinged grayish-white.

The Seine flows gently beneath the bridge, reflecting the sky and the buildings, making the massive structure appear both solemn and dynamic.

"it's beautiful."

Han Yi sighed softly. He had seen it before on postcards and in movies, but seeing it in person, its grandeur and exquisite detail that transcended time and space still brought a tremendous visual impact.

"This is the dividing line of Paris."

Barbara raised her arms, like Moses parting the Red Sea, dividing the city in two with the Seine as the boundary.

“This way.” Barbara’s arm swayed to the right, pointing towards the Marais district they had just left, then shifted to extend towards the Champs-Élysées further away. “It’s the Right Bank. Rive Droite.”

“For a girl like me, the Right Bank represents everything—business, fashion, power, and speed.”

"At nineteen, I had to conquer everything there. You had to run faster than everyone else, smile sweeter than everyone else, squeeze into the most glamorous parties earlier, and get the best jobs. The Right Bank was for winning."

"That's my runway, and it's also my battlefield."

Han Yi nodded slightly and listened quietly. He could imagine how that girl from Budapest was fighting her way through this glamorous city.

Then, Barbara's arm turned toward the land they were about to set foot on, toward the ancient and quiet neighborhood hidden behind Notre Dame and Île de la Cité.

“And over there,” she said, “is the Left Bank. Rive Gauche.”

"This is about seclusion, rest, time, and authenticity. People on the right bank are always talking about 'what they are doing,' while people on the left bank are more concerned with 'what they are thinking.' This... is a place to live."

"I worked so hard on the Right Bank when I was nineteen, all so that one day, after I conquered that world, I could find a place that truly belonged to me in the heart of Europe, on the Left Bank. A place where I could find refuge after I had conquered the world."

"Sorry, what I just said wasn't... an accurate description. What I really meant was that at nineteen, I crave the ability to choose. I can choose to live on the left bank or the right bank, but if I want, the left bank will always be there waiting for me, do you understand?"

“Of course I understand.” Han Yi squeezed her hand. He could feel the weight in her words, a yearning brewed with youth and ambition. “What you want is not the left bank, freedom is your left bank.”

“Exactly.” Barbara smiled.

"So what exactly are your feelings for Paris?" he asked in a low voice. "I know you like this place, but just how much? Is it to the point that you want to live here permanently?"

“Definitely,” Barbara answered without hesitation. “Actually, I prefer Paris to London and New York.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m European.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Deep down, I’m more drawn to cities with this style. Or maybe it’s just my personality… I prefer places like Paris, which, despite being an international metropolis, stubbornly maintains its retro charm. It makes me feel warmer than London or New York.”

She paused for a moment, then added, "Actually, to be honest, I really like Los Angeles too. I love the sunshine, the beaches, the relaxed lifestyle, and the unbelievably good weather all year round."

"Then why..."

“The reason I haven’t moved to Los Angeles or back to Paris yet is because the old me hadn’t found the person who could share this wonderful feeling with me.” She looked at Han Yi, her eyes rippling again. “Honey, I’m a man of the moment when it comes to many things. Food, parties, job opportunities… if I get them, I get them; if I lose them, I lose them. It’s okay, I don’t regret it. But when it comes to choosing a city to live in long-term, I’m a little… picky.”

“My life plan is to work hard in London and New York, and fight all the battles while I’m young. Then, I’ll find my love and settle down in Los Angeles or Paris together. When we’re old, we’ll go back to Budapest, or…” She gave Han Yi a meaningful look, “and go back to his hometown. Or, we can travel between the two places every year.”

“I hope…” her voice was soft but firm, “that when we decide to settle down in Paris or Los Angeles, we will create wonderful new memories together in this city, creating many, many firsts.”

“Instead of…” she paused, as if searching for the most accurate word, “instead of having the last partner I can hold hands with for a long time help me piece those broken mirrors back together.”

“That’s not fair to myself.” Her gaze was clear as water. “It’s even more unfair to the person I end up with.”

Han Yi's heart skipped a beat at her words. He gazed into her lake-blue eyes, which held no impurities, only a solemnity for the future and trust in him.

“I love the scene you described, and I… I really want to be that person. The one who can create countless new firsts with you, in Paris, in Los Angeles, or anywhere else. I don’t want to glue any mirrors together; I just want to be with you, starting from scratch, to build a brand new window that belongs only to us.”

Upon hearing this, Barbara's smile blossomed once again in the warm winter sunshine.

"I have great confidence in you." She made no attempt to hide her certainty.

“Since I’m willing to bring you to my Left Bank…” The “Left Bank” that Barbara speaks of is not just a geographical area, but also her entire dream about the future, “because I think you can become that kind of person.”

The two smiled at each other again.

It's a tacit understanding that needs no words, a complete understanding and acceptance that only couples who have been together for many years can have.

There was no passionate kiss, nor any intense embrace. Han Yi simply lowered his head slightly, and Barbara naturally moved closer to meet him.

They only left a faint mark on each other's lips.

Gentle, warm, yet substantial.

In their hearts at that moment, the depth of a kiss could not define the length of their relationship. It was neither conquest nor demand, but a silent promise. They both knew clearly that they, who had just held hands, still had a very long road ahead of them.

This feeling is very mysterious.

When everyone truly enters into a relationship, they can probably feel this mystery to some extent—the potential answer that quietly emerges in their heart.

Regarding this person and this path, whether it can last a long time, I had a premonition deep in my soul from the very beginning.

The accordion music on the Pont Saint-Louis gradually faded into the distance, melting into the increasingly chilly winter air.

They crossed Île de la Cité, briefly passing the hustle and bustle of the edge of Place Saint-Michel, before finally setting foot on the Left Bank. Barbara led him westward along the Montebello embankment, with the Seneca River flowing quietly in winter on their right and the Latin Quarter, teeming with tourists, on their left.

The Latin Quarter, as its name suggests, is the area once inhabited by the ancient Romans on Île-de-France. Built on the slopes of Mont Saint-Geneviève, the highest point on the Left Bank of Paris, it was once the center of the Gallo-Roman city of Lutesecia. Two major surviving sites from this period, the Lutese Amphitheatre and the Baths of Cluny, testify to its role as the original folk and social heart of ancient Paris. The amphitheater alone could accommodate up to 15,000 spectators, demonstrating the scale of the Roman settlement at the time.

The Romans chose to build their city on a hill for strategic reasons, and centuries later, medieval scholars followed suit. However, their initial move here was not to rule from a high vantage point like the Romans, but rather to escape the overcrowded Île de la Cité, the cradle of Paris, which had become saturated with overpopulation. Schools sprang up on Mont Saint-Geneviève, quickly transforming it into an independent temple of knowledge.

In 1200, Philip II issued a decree officially granting the title of "university" to a cooperative of teachers and students affiliated with the Paris Cathedral School, thus establishing the University of Paris, also known as the Sorbonne. It was because of the University of Paris that the various schools on Mont Sainte-Geneviève gradually merged into independent colleges under the university's umbrella, effectively unifying what were previously separate entities.

This nascent city of scholars attracted some of the greatest minds in Europe at the time, such as Thomas Aquinas and Pierre Abelard, and quickly established Mont Sainte-Geneviève's reputation as a center of medieval knowledge.

Soon, the residents of Paris began to call this place "Pays Latin," meaning the land of Latins. Later, it evolved into "Quartier Latin," the Latin Quarter. This name had nothing to do with race, but rather with the fact that Latin was the common language of academia and the church throughout Europe at the time. Students and scholars from Italy, England, and Germany debated here in the same language, marking the formation of Europe's first supranational intellectual region.

From the moment of its inception, the core conflict of this story was already set: on one side was the "robe," the large and intellectually vibrant community of international students and clergy; on the other side was the "city," the local citizens and merchants of Paris. This tense standoff between the "robe" and the "city" set the stage for a struggle that would last for the next 800 years.

"Sorbonne University, behind us?" Han Yi pulled up Google Maps on his phone, glanced at it briefly, and asked.

“Yes, it’s across from St. Louis Island.” Barbara nodded, looking at him. “What, you want to go see it?”

“No,” Han Yi denied. “I’ve never liked the idea of ​​visiting university campuses… It feels like turning a sacred temple of knowledge into a zoo, and the scholars and students studying there into animals.”

“This is a lesson learned from practical experience, right?” Barbara hit the nail on the head. “It seems there are just too many tourists at USC.”

“Yes, it is a bit… excessive, but I don’t mind. I just don’t want to be that kind of tourist.” Han Yi led Barbara away and continued walking. “Buildings are just buildings. What makes them meaningful are the people who live, die, or rest in them.”

Are you talking about the Pantheon?

"Is the Pantheon in the same direction as where we're going?"

“No.” Barbara pointed casually again, “A little further south.”

“Then we won’t go.” Han Yi grinned. “I’m definitely the most easygoing travel companion you’ll ever meet. No must-do list, no itinerary, no pressure.” “But wouldn’t it be a bit of a shame to come to Paris and not see these landmarks?” Barbara asked him, her eyes crinkling slightly.

"No regrets, because I'll probably be coming to Paris often in the future." Han Yi thought for a moment and then asked, "When is the next Paris Fashion Week?"

"You're coming to see me?" Barbara tilted her head, her eyes shining even brighter. "The next time is at the end of February or the beginning of March."

"May I?"

“Sure,” Barbara smiled. “But then it’ll be the other way around—I’ll be busy everywhere, and you’ll wait for me at the hotel.”

“No problem.” Han Yi shrugged. “While you’re working, I can come and visit places like the Pantheon by myself… That period of history is indeed very fascinating.”

"Which period? The Middle Ages?"

“The French Revolution,” Han Yi replied. “The Pantheon was originally a church, and I’ve read about its origins. Louis XV fell seriously ill, and he vowed that if God would heal him, he would fund the construction of a more magnificent church to replace the then-dilapidated monastery. But before the new church was completed, the French Revolution occurred. The Estates-General dissolved, and the National Assembly was established. Feudalism was abolished, the state began to control the Catholic Church, and the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen was published… It was an era when reason defeated theology for the first time, and free thought was paramount. Under such intellectual currents, the church was secularized and transformed into a sanctuary for national heroes and a tomb for national giants.”

"This is what I mean when I say that buildings are just buildings; what makes them meaningful are the people who live, die, or rest in them. Without this history, without Marat, Voltaire, and Rousseau buried here, the Pantheon would just be an ordinary church in the Latin Quarter, wouldn't it?"

“I love the way you talk about history.” Barbara bit her lower lip. “Some people think it’s nerdy, but I find it very fascinating.”

“Only Americans think this is nerdy…only they would think so,” Han Yi joked. “No normal country would consider belittling knowledge a social norm.”

“That sounds cynical,” Barbara chuckled.

“That’s just the truth.” Han Yi pursed his lips. “Maybe that’s why I feel more at ease on a spiritual level when I’m in Europe… I don’t know if that’s the reason, but you can’t feel that atmosphere in America.”

"What kind of atmosphere?" Barbara joked. "Living in the atmosphere of the past?"

"It's less about living in the past..."

Han Yi paused, trying to express his feelings more clearly. Across the Seine, the silhouette of Notre Dame Cathedral grew even more solemn in the darkening sky.

"It's more accurate to say that we live in the depths."

“Look.” He stopped and pointed to the ancient stone buildings around him, then to the direction of the river. “In America, especially in Los Angeles where I live, everything is flat, new, horizontal, and spread out. History is a chapter in a textbook, a historical site that you have to drive to, and it’s disconnected from your current life.”

"But in Paris, history is the air we breathe, the road we walk on."

"Place des Vosges is from the 17th century, Notre Dame is from the 12th century, and the Latin Quarter where we are standing now has the foundation of ancient Rome, the soul of the Middle Ages, and the spirit of the French Revolution. You are not visiting history, you are walking through history."

“I understand what you mean,” Barbara replied.

"So when you talk about the French Revolution here, about Voltaire..." Han Yi continued, "you're not showing off your knowledge; you're talking about the origins of this place. Here, knowledge and thought are not tools for showing off or making a living; they are life itself. They are something universally respected and taken for granted."

“This is the atmosphere that makes me feel at ease,” he concluded. “It’s a kind of, how should I put it… a sense of rational dignity. Here, you can be a thinker without feeling sorry for feeling out of place. Because this city itself was built by countless thinkers.”

“I completely agree with you,” Barbara agreed. Then, as if remembering something, she raised her index finger and asked, “Do you think your hometown is the same? I mean, China?”

“Use your analogy to answer.” After a moment of thought, Han Yi slowly began to speak. “The United States, or at least New York and Los Angeles, is the Right Bank. Everything is about the future, about speed, about what to do. France, not just Paris, but more about the French Riviera and Provence, is the Left Bank, which allows you to slow down and look back.”

"And China... is both, and the ultimate version of both. China has the ultimate right bank, a side that only cares about what to do, moving towards the future at a speed probably faster than any other region in the world. But at the same time, it also has the ultimate left bank, unhurried, going with the flow, seemingly unchanged for thousands of years. And people don't mind this, because we know that looking back is precisely for a deeper understanding of the present."

“I really hope to go to China with you someday,” Barbara exclaimed. “It sounds like a really, really interesting country.”

"You'll like it." Han Yi frowned slightly, then smiled, "Didn't you go there before?"

“I only stay at the hotel for two or three days for work. I don’t speak the language, and there’s not much to do except buy some panda toys at the souvenir shop.” Barbara wrinkled her nose. “Besides, it’s always more interesting to travel with a local who knows the area and has connections. You can see more things that ordinary tourists don’t see.”

“Just like me right now.” Han Yi spread his arms wide. “Which first-time visitor to Paris would be like me, ignoring the Louvre, ignoring the Eiffel Tower, and even passing by Notre Dame without stopping, instead deliberately wandering into the backstreets and alleys?”

“That means you found the right guide.” Barbara nudged her boyfriend’s arm. “Isn’t it interesting? Coming to a completely unfamiliar city, immediately becoming one of the locals, living a day of a life that wasn’t originally yours, and having the opportunity to choose whether this is the path you want to continue down in life.”

“This is one of the most exciting and fulfilling parts of life,” Han Yi nodded in agreement. “What’s even more gratifying is that you’ll find yourself becoming a global citizen, using your current abilities to perfectly integrate into a completely new world—that in itself is the greatest recognition of all your past efforts.”

“Then you should be proud of yourself,” Barbara encouraged him. “Because you look like you were born to be here.”

"I'm not."

“My outfit is a far cry from the image of a Parisian.”

“Look, first, I’m not wearing a beret at an angle. Second, I’m not wearing a small scarf around my neck that looks casual but is actually carefully styled. Third, I’m not wearing a beige trench coat with the collar turned up. And I’m not wearing loafers that show my ankles… Oh, wait a minute.”

Faced with Barbara, who had already started covering her mouth and giggling, Han Yi helplessly spread his hands.

He discovered that, apart from the beret and scarf, his entire outfit, including the Loro Piana loafers that exposed his ankles, perfectly captured people's stereotypes about Parisian attire.

"Stop resisting. From now on, be a proper Parisian." Barbara raised her right hand and swept it across her face from top to bottom, putting on a serious and arrogant mask. "You don't need to actually speak French, just get the intonation right, and you can be a Parisian."

Barbara cleared her throat, slightly raised her chin, and glanced at her boyfriend with an almost contemptuous look.

“Pffft, it’s the basic negation of everything. You use it when you see tourists wearing silly souvenir t-shirts. You use it when someone tries to smile at you on the subway. And you use it even more when the coffee served by the waiter isn’t hot enough.”

"This doesn't need to be taught." Han Yi couldn't help but chuckle. "I say it myself all the time."

"See, I told you, you were born a Parisian... Okay, the second word, bof."

"Bof?"

“Yes, the French shrug…” Barbara took a deep breath, then shrugged her shoulders so hard they almost touched her ears, while exaggeratingly spreading her arms to the sides, palms up, and pursing her lips into a perfect circle, uttering that classic syllable: “Bof. Its matching word.”

"This ultimate indifference expresses a weariness of existence itself. 'What do you think of this New Wave film?' 'Bof.' 'Is the weather nice today?' 'Bof.' 'The end of the world is coming.' 'Bof.'"

"I've started to hate the Parisian woman you're portraying."

"Is this annoying? This is only at the beginner level. The most important part is the eyes."

"Eye?"

“Yes, you don’t need to say anything. You just need to look at the other person with an ‘I know everything, and you know nothing’ look, especially in a coffee shop.”

"The waiter comes over. Don't look at him. Pretend to be contemplating the mysteries of the universe. He has to wait at least half a minute before you slowly raise your eyelids and, with an attitude of 'I'm actually speaking the same language as you, what a condescension!', utter a single word: 'Un café.' Then, force a very strained smile, as if it were a handout to this poor fellow in front of you... 'Un café.'"

Barbara's performance was so convincing that even an elderly Parisian woman walking her poodle couldn't help but glance at them, her eyes carrying the very same scrutinizing "Pfft" that Barbara had just described.

Barbara immediately broke down in her composure and burst into loud laughter along with Han Yi.

“See? Exactly the same.” Barbara took Han Yi’s arm and resumed her usual tone. “Of course, these are just stereotypes. The only people who truly fit these stereotypes are a very small minority, and they are mostly… like the old lady just now. The vast majority of Parisians are not rude at all. On the contrary, they are the friendliest and most open-minded people I have ever met.”

“I can sense it. In my opinion, Parisians are at least much more welcoming than Londoners,” Han Yi agreed. “People say they’re rude… maybe it’s because they’re more easygoing about life. They’re very particular about food and clothing, but I think they don’t really care how life flows around them, you know what I mean?”

“Of course, that’s how I feel too.” Barbara nodded emphatically. “When there are unpleasant things in life that they can’t change, they say: c’est la vie. When things aren’t going well, when they’re not in a good mood, and when acquaintances ask them how their day is, they say: Comme ci, commea.”

“Comme ci, commea,” Han Yi repeated. “I don’t know what it means, but it sounds like a kind of self-deprecating pleasure… It will be my catchphrase from now on.”

"His accent is very authentic, and his emotions are spot on," Barbara praised her boyfriend.

"Because that's just who I am, 'comme ci, commea'."

"Alright, alright... How about we go check out that Shakespeare and Company bookstore across the street? They filmed 'Before Sunset' here."

"Comme ci, commea."

"That's not how you use it!"

"Isn't that right? Well... comme ci, commea."

"...I kind of regret teaching you these things."

(End of this chapter)