"You shouldn’t do this!"
"You should do this!"
When people pass on their experiences, if they only tell the person receiving the experience how to choose and what to do, but don’t tell them the consequences of choosing the wrong option or what outcos they will have if they’re successful, it won’t leave a lasting impression.
Just like at this mont, a new wave of public opinion is about to surge. After the initial irrational phase, people have started to sensibly address the issue of the rights of overseas Federation citizens.
The sa situation occurred again, how should we face it?
Should we stand up and demand the rights that we deserve, or should we treat these issues with indifference as if nothing has happened?
So say this is the best ti to push for the "Overseas Security Law," but there is still a key elent missing, and that is comparison.
To make people realize the imnse value of the "Overseas Security Law," and its significance and effect on the safety of people’s property and lives, the whole society must fully push for this matter.
While Lynch was reading the newspaper, a phone call ca to the restaurant’s phone outside.
He glanced at it, and the maid brought the phone over—
There were many phones in the room, each with a long telephone line, specifically designed for wealthy people.
The manufacturer used very advanced materials to ensure these phones were exquisite, and they included a retractable spool within the phone’s base.
As long as you carry the phone, you can easily take it away. The phone line won’t be the reason to stop anyone, as it slowly reels out from the small hole in the phone.
When the call is finished, placing it back and pressing the button will retract the phone line onto the spool so it won’t lay around everywhere.
After placing down the phone, the maid retreated outside the restaurant.
As Lynch picked it up, an eager voice ca through, "Mr. Lynch, I have a business deal, are you interested?"
Lynch dabbed his barely greasy lips with a napkin, before pulling out a cigarette, tapping it out, and placing it in his mouth.
With a ding, a fla sprouted from a million-dollar lighter, lighting the cigarette.
The burning tobacco crackled with a unique, faint sound, almost imperceptible.
The cigarette tip glowed brightly, and his fingers holding it seed to feel a wave of heat radiation.
"What kind of deal?" he exhaled smoke that dispersed invisibly into the air, rising slowly until it rged with the surrounding air.
The voice on the other end sounded in his thirties, with a tone laced with difficult-to-hide pride or arrogance.
"A big deal!"
With a whoosh, the smoke Lynch exhaled this ti shot out like an arrow to the distance. He shook his head, "Sorry, I don’t know you, you might have dialed the wrong number!"
He said this while hanging up the phone, picking up the newspaper again, and didn’t forget to gesture to the maid outside the restaurant, "Send a cup of coffee, no sugar."
On the other end of the phone line, a man in his thirties looked incredulously at the phone in his hand. He couldn’t believe Lynch had hung up on him!
One must understand, he is a mber of the Duncan Clan... although he barely holds a one ten-thousandth stake.
But in the Duncan Clan, that is not considered the least, as each year, the dividends alone are enough for him to squander.
He, a mber of the Duncan Clan, had been hung up on, which left him feeling an unimaginable mix of sha and annoyance. No one had ever dared treat him like this before!
The gentlen engaged in conversation in the room seed to take note of the situation. One of them asked, "Did Lynch agree?"
The young middle-aged man was a bit taken aback, snapping back to his senses, he shook his head and returned the receiver to the phone base, "He... hung up on ."
The laughter and chatter in the room abruptly ceased, all eyes simultaneously turned to the young middle-aged man.
The young middle-aged man felt a bit nervous; outside, he was a "Sir" of the Duncan Clan, but here, he was just the most inconspicuous one.
"He said he didn’t know and hung up," he shook his head, "I think there’s no need to give him this business deal, he’s nothing at all."
The conversation resud but with a lower, less enthusiastic tone than before.
The first speaker glanced sidelong at the young middle-aged man, "That’s Uncle Jeruno’s decision. If you’re unhappy with his decision, you can go to his study and tell him your thoughts."
So couldn’t help but laugh, perhaps now they understood what it was all about.
The Duncan Clan is destined to remain an undisclosed grand family, which leaves so of the younger mbers with a peculiar mix of emotions.
They are dissatisfied with everything about the Federation.
When they walk on the streets, people don’t worship them for their noble family na, but they would chase after toy-like celebrities.
When people talk about the most powerful people in the Federation, they always ntion those who in their eyes aren’t worthy of shining the Duncan Clan’s shoes.
They are so great, yet so distant from society, causing so to beco inexplicably arrogant.
This feeling is like "only I know my excellence, and when you know it too, we can no longer be equals as friends." It could be described as an inner quality, but it’s more of a subtle arrogance.
The young middle-aged man shook his head, not daring to say a word.
The person who started the conversation spoke again, "Since you’re not planning to do this, keep calling Lynch and tell him we have a deal to discuss with him."
"Jeruno Uncle definitely wants to get an answer as soon as possible, do you understand what I an?" He withdrew his unfriendly gaze and then changed his deanor to chat kindly with those around him.
The young man standing by the phone’s face changed slightly, and he had to pick up the phone again.
"Mr. Lynch, I apologize for my harsh tone earlier, I am from the Duncan Clan..." He said his na, "We have a business we’d like to commission to you..."
Lynch listened to the call while drinking coffee, his eyes focused on the maid’s skirt.
He swore he wasn’t looking at the girl’s butt, but rely studying the type of fringes on her very short skirt.
The maid seed to want to show off her beautiful and lightweight skirt, swaying back and forth not far from Lynch, occasionally bending down.
This morning’s coffee was very pleasant!
Lynch took a sip of coffee, licked his lips, admired for over ten seconds before snapping back to reality, "I don’t like discussing business over the phone, let’s talk in person if you know where my company is..."
He hung up again, then picked up the newspaper, his gaze still lingering on the maid’s skirt.
On the other end, the young middle-aged man was bewildered, unsure if Lynch has gone mad or what. He actually hung up twice.
Although he was not an influential figure within the Duncan Clan, this call to Lynch represented Mr. Jeruno, the family patriarch.
Does Lynch really understand nothing?
Of course, Lynch understands a lot, including many things others do not.
"Mr. Lynch, could you please move your legs..."
Lynch pulled back his legs, the girl turned and bent over to clean the floor under the dining table, which should’ve been done after Lynch left, not now.
Looking at the skirt less than a foot away from him, Lynch suddenly wanted to feel its fabric and texture.
"Last ti it wasn’t you..." To ease awkwardness, Lynch casually chatted.
Half Mountain Villa here lacks a professional managent team to maintain Lynch’s house and affair; these maids, temporary stewards, are dispatched by the community.
When Lynch cos back to stay, he informs the community from when to when he’ll reside, and the community managent company arranges caretakers for him.
Once he leaves, these people either go to the next location or temporarily lose their jobs.
Finding a job during this period isn’t easy, let alone one that pays well, is easy, and guarantees no violation of one’s dignity.
The maid seed very pleased that Lynch also liked her short skirt, and she didn’t turn around or stand up straight but continued bending over to work, showing dedication to her job.
"Yes, Mr. Lynch, I only started last year’s end..." Her hands paused montarily, lips tightly sealed, then she began moving again.
Lynch nodded, "What did you do before?"
He explained his intention slightly, "You don’t seem very practiced at this job."
"I used to be a company receptionist and was a model for a while..."
Now Lynch understood, "No wonder..."
He didn’t say what was "no wonder," but rely withdrew his hand, having beco familiar enough with the skirt’s texture and tassels.
"I need to get to work..." He stood up, placing the newspaper on the dining table.
The girl turned to look at him, sowhat hopeful, a little apprehensive, and slightly uneasy, "Mr. Lynch, can I stay?"
Being a temporary maid, her salary was calculated hourly.
Even if she was here every day, the community service company would only pay her for ten hours a day.
This pay was certainly much higher than external hourly jobs, yet she still hoped to transition to a permanent maid, getting paid weekly or monthly.
This would not only increase her salary but turn into a stable job, freeing her from worrying about earning a living when not needed.
So girls even have other intentions; they didn’t just beco maids to be maids but had other purposes.
The community’s service company is well aware, but hiring so many quality girls at relatively low prices, as long as it’s not too excessive, they could pretend not to notice!
Whether they could stay on depended on their own capability.
Lynch paused and sized her up, while the girl seed nervous, unsure where to place her hands.
"I’ll consider it!"
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