At the sa ti, in a hotel less than a kiloter away from the young man, Lynch was entertaining the investnt group.
The splendid decorations allowed many guests staying here to montarily forget that this was the Nagariel United Kingdom, a backward, poor, and ignorant nation located on the East Ocean.
The transparent crystal chandeliers refracted bright light everywhere, adding a touch of gorgeous color to the bright illumination.
A local band and singers, of unknown renown, were softly performing soothing songs.
The singer was a Nagariel native, with darker skin and not particularly attractive features, but surprisingly, his voice was like a barrel of aged, fragrant wine, exuding an intoxicating aroma.
So ladies stood around him with eyes slightly closed, listening to the voice that made their souls dance.
His singing wasn’t loud, making it hard to hear from a slightly further distance, where people gathered in groups with their wine glasses, chatting.
They talked about their encounters since arriving in Nagariel, shared their discoveries, talked about everything here—interesting and joyful.
Waiters in vests and bowties quickly moved through the crowd, bringing glasses of fine wine and taking away empty ones. Everyone in the room, at that mont, seed to be in the environnt most familiar to them, rather than in Nagariel!
This once again proved the greatness of money, or rather wealth. It was because of ample funds that such a splendid building could be erected on this backward, ignorant, and poor land.
In the dance floor, Lynch was dancing with Penny. He wasn’t actually the "host"; today’s main figure was Li, and he could be considered a sort of companion, so he didn’t need to make an appearance just yet.
During this ti, he could do his own thing, like accepting Penny’s invitation to dance, to which Lynch had no objection.
The two danced to the soothing music in a style similar to slow swaying, a dance without specific steps or form, more like giving couples in love an opportunity to get closer and whisper to each other.
With each breath, Lynch could sll a fragrance, a scent from the opposite sex. One of his hands held the girl’s hand, while the other wrapped around her back.
Today, Penny was wearing a bright red backless gown. Amidst her elegant grandeur, the vibrant red brought a touch of girlish liveliness, astonishing to behold.
His hand rested on the girl’s back just like that.
Lynch valued his hands more than his face.
n have never swayed the world by looks; compared to looks, his hands were more significant.
For example, a pair of keen hands could discern the authenticity of a docunt by feeling the embossed fonts on paper. Steady hands allowed him to handle more delicate work—sothing a face could never achieve.
This also allowed him at this mont to feel the smoothness of the girl’s skin, a pure, natural smoothness untouched by costics or skincare products.
Strictly speaking, this smoothness was not like the "freshly peeled boiled egg" people often ntioned. Though a boiled egg was tender when just peeled, it wasn’t smooth—more like a bit rough.
The girl’s skin was smooth; when fingertips pressed against it, there was almost no friction—the laws of physics seed to vanish at that mont.
The tactile sensation at his fingertips made Lynch sowhat entranced, not by feminine allure, but by the appreciation of a work of art.
Lynch was actually a cultured man. In his society, even if it was an act, one had to appear sophisticated and cultured.
Here, culture wasn’t about educational credentials, but another kind of refined culture.
Once, before he entered, he was in a car with important figures discussing investnts. Suddenly, they brought up the na of the only woman among them—a na with cultural resonance.
The one leading the negotiation laughed and recited a line of poetry, soon followed by another person reciting the next line, and the third line, and their eyes fell on Lynch.
Without hesitation, Lynch recited the next line, which coincidentally contained the na of the female companion in the last line.
The atmosphere inside the car instantly beca more enthusiastic—this was recognition from one cultured person to another—and the contract was naturally signed after they got out of the car.
Inside, Lynch t many cultured people. One of them left a deep impression—a person who, over five years, orchestrated a sche that left many bankrupt. His ability to gain people’s trust lay in his "culture."
Lynch was also a cultured person who liked everything and appreciated everything, and indeed, won were also considered a type of "art."
His fingertip gently glided over the girl’s skin. Penny’s face was tinged with blush; she wasn’t quite used to this atmosphere, yet couldn’t escape it.
The rumors between her and Lynch taught her a lesson: in the movie industry, or the entertainnt industry, without a background, surviving was difficult—constantly facing others’ challenges.
Sloan was just one of them, and not even a major player.
This kind of movie star, compared to the production company, is still just a small figure. What if soone from the production company makes things difficult for her in the future?
These days, there are quite a few rumors about so-and-so entering soone’s room at night. You can refuse actors, refuse directors, but how do you refuse the production side?
As long as you’re in this circle, there’s no way to avoid these problems, unless you have a background that everyone respects, otherwise you can only go with the flow.
Penny wants to be a star, wants to beco a big deal; it’s her dream, her ideal, her plan for the future.
She entered this circle to work hard for these things, not to enter this circle and turn into a promiscuous woman.
If you have to choose, then choose a better one that can be once and for all.
She looked up at Lynch; every breath from Lynch’s mouth and nose spread through the gap between them, but so would also spray onto her face, quickening her heartbeat.
Lynch’s hand also possessed a kind of magic power, making her body slightly warm.
The two of them were very close. Every ti they moved their feet, their bodies would touch a bit, which made the girl both excited and a little uneasy, as if fearing sothing.
In the dim confusion, the music stopped.
The band is not a record; it never knows fatigue. The musicians of the band will tire, performing in such occasions, many guests have high musical literacy, a single mistake can severely impact their careers.
That’s why their ntal focus is intense, making them easily fatigued. The singer too, needs to ensure he presents his best voice to the entranced ladies and more guests, they all need rest.
People in the dance floor stopped, Lynch and the drowsy girl did too. Lynch clapped his hands and beckoned to a waiter.
The waiter quickly ca over, Lynch took out his custom pen from his pocket, left a phone number on the coaster paper on the waiter’s tray, then instructed sothing.
After the waiter left, the gradually waking girl looked at him shyly. Lynch understood her aning and casually explained, "This singer’s voice is very unique, his smile is also very unique, people will like him."
He added, "Federation people."
Not long ago, soone in Federation Society published an article titled "We Are Reshaping Pride," which caused a huge sensation upon release.
In Lynch’s words, it was a distinctly political inspirational article, throughout promoting the Federation and Federation people will surely return to glory, but requires everyone’s collective effort.
Very mainstream, very main the. People also like it; now all Federation people are thinking this way and working hard. The capitalists should actually be grateful for this financial crisis and economic tsunami because these issues made those workers who complain all day realize the preciousness and importance of work, stop running to the Union to report about exploitation and oppression every day.
If at this mont, organizing groups similar to this singer and his band to perform and sing in the Federation, it would further prove the Federation is recovering quickly and will be better than before.
Away from this issue, Lynch asked a question, "Have you acted as a socialite?"
The girl didn’t have ti to react before Lynch had held out his arm. In such occasions, many things seem scattered but possess unknown formality.
Naturally, the girl extended her hand to hold his arm, led by Lynch, walked towards a group of gentlen chatting.
Lynch’s arrival paused their conversation, Li proactively stepped aside, Lynch glanced at Penny, who instinctively let go, first greeted the gentlen, then apologized and left, heading towards another circle where the ladies gathered.
She was slightly bewildered but managed reasonably well. People sotis say bringing female companions is superfluous because official social events do not place or status females, yet such events can’t do without the embellishnt of females.
They don’t admit they are vases, but they are vases.
"What were we chatting about?" Lynch took control of the conversation upon arrival, his invisible montum granting him this power before them, akin to a ruler.
Li hurriedly replied, "We were just talking about the chaotic traffic..." Upon finishing, he felt a wave of relief.
Everyone yearns to enter here, familiar with greeting everyone, casually chatting about anything.
He used to gaze yearningly through glass windows thinking this way, but at this mont, he no longer feels that way.
This is not enjoynt; it is tornt.
Here, people won’t use harsh language to mock your mistakes; they will use their eyes to make you feel ashad.
Make you feel that you don’t belong here, that you are a mistake here!
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