"Stanley, what about you? Do you have any issues?" Mr. Zachmann asked for Leonard Zachmann’s opinion, then turned to ask Stanley Zachmann.
Leonard had just returned from the company, wearing a suit and leather shoes. Over the years, he had taken the lead in managing the Zachmann family’s connections, regularly interacting with prominent figures in Beijing. His deanor naturally exuded a composed yet dignified presence.
The aura surrounding him was actually quite similar to that of Amadeus Yancey and Sadam Vinson, a distinction unique to those who have occupied positions of power for a long ti, setting them apart from ordinary people.
In comparison.
Stanley Zachmann seed more like one of the countless ordinary people in Beijing, wearing simple clothes without obsessing over brand nas. His style was casual rather than formal, dressed in a plain, leisure jacket with a sports shirt underneath, and his presence was far less prominent than Leonard’s.
He also wore glasses, which subdued his sharpness and lent him a scholarly air.
At a glance, he didn’t look like a successful professional.
He lacked that certain charisma others exude.
However, compared to Leonard Zachmann, Stanley lived a more ordinary and authentic life. When Mr. Zachmann questioned him, there was a fleeting hesitation on his face. Then he pursed his lips, avoided Celine Tucker’s piercing glare, and nodded, saying, "Dad, I have no objections either."
"Alright." Having sought the opinions of both brothers, Mr. Zachmann withdrew his gaze, instructed the caregiver beside him to pour him a glass of water, and said indifferently, "Since everyone has no objections, I’ll continue."
Mr. Zachmann then proceeded to divide all the Zachmann Family’s shares and real estate.
This division was undoubtedly excruciating for Celine Tucker, as Stanley had stopped overseeing affairs for many years. All of these assets had been handled by their family, and he hadn’t even taken dividends during that ti.
Now, dividing them up was akin to giving them away effortlessly.
Though Leonard Zachmann had no objections throughout, Celine was seething with anger yet had no choice but to suppress it desperately, waiting for Mr. Zachmann to finish distributing all the family assets.
Celine Tucker’s face turned green.
Not a single word escaped her mouth.
*
anwhile, on the third floor of the Imperial Hotel in Peony Hall, the Tsinghua University president and the Ministry of Culture had booked the banquet hall. The dining table was filled with the clinking of glasses and joyous guests.
Amadeus Yancey did not sit at the head of the table today. He ceded the seat to Jackson Wafford and chose a position to Jackson’s left.
Probably from drinking a bit of liquor, his handso face now glowed with a thin layer of rosy radiance, like the crimson hues of the horizon, dazzling and captivating.
It truly brought that saying to life.
Between the colors of heaven and water, Amadeus Yancey was the third unmatched beauty of Beijing!
Yet, no matter how stunning he was, few at the banquet dared to admire this beauty. Most avoided gazing in his direction if they could, afraid to provoke this imposing figure.
Fortunately, Amadeus seed exceptionally agreeable today.
The Ministry of Culture representative took the lead in toasting him, and he didn’t decline, courteously drinking several glasses in return.
Additionally, a few professors from Tsinghua, not entirely aware of his status, noticed the Ministry of Culture toasting him. Energized by the cheerful conversation, they also raised their glasses to Amadeus.
One toast after another.
By the ti dinner was over, Amadeus Yancey had likely consud at least half a liter of liquor.
A regular person would have been intoxicated long ago by that amount, but Amadeus managed to remain composed. He rely loosened a shirt button, rolled up his sleeves to cool off, leaned back slightly in his chair, with eyes deep and inscrutable, showing no signs of drunkenness.
When soone approached for yet another toast, his deanor turned casual, and he no longer accepted each offering unconditionally...
Jackson Wafford circled round the table drinking with the Ministry of Culture attendees, then glanced over to see Amadeus reclining, absorbed with his phone. Finding an opportune mont, he cautiously asked, "Mr. Yancey, are you alright?"
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