"Amadeus, we’ve arrived."
Amadeus Yancey looked at the person beside him, his eyes deep and profound, "We’ve arrived."
"Mm."
From the mont Nathalie Quinlan got in the car, she had been replying to all sorts of ssages; at these words she didn’t even lift her head.
Before boarding the airplane she had turned off her phone, and when she turned it back on, she had so many ssages they almost crashed the device.
ssages from Jhovany Sullivan, Justin Wafford, and the others went without saying—all asking if she had arrived yet.
There were also ssages from Lowie Wilmar and Silvania Ingram.
Silvania Ingram had sent her a villa address, asking her to temporarily stay there during her exam period.
Lowie Wilmar was rather straightforward, not bothering to ask whether she had arrived or where she was staying, only telling her that if she had ti after arriving in Beijing, they could try to et up.
And then there was the little guy...
Without a doubt, when she opened their chat conversation, there were a full two pages of ssages, one every five minutes.
He would ask if she’d boarded the airplane yet, then if the air conditioning on the airplane was too cold, and if Amadeus Yancey had gotten her a blanket...
He also sent photos of what he ate for lunch, what ti he would go for rehabilitation in the afternoon, and stuff like that.
It took her quite a bit of effort to finish replying to all the ssages before she followed Amadeus Yancey out of the car.
The place they were going to eat was inside.
Alfred Garland, familiar with the place, walked ahead to lead the way, "I’ve already spoken to the owner of the Imperial Hotel and set our seats, Ms. Quinlan. This place has exceptional Santhoma cuisine, do you like Santhoma food?"
"Santhoma cuisine?" She had just finished replying to ssages and was still a bit distracted. She pondered for a mont, rembering what Santhoma cuisine was, furrowed her brows, pressed her throbbing temples, and said absentmindedly, "...It’s alright, I can eat it."
From her expression, Amadeus Yancey knew she wasn’t particularly fond of it. He reached out to take her single shoulder bag, quite naturally carrying it on his own shoulder, and gently reassured her, "Santhoma food is mild, after sitting on an airplane for a whole day without eating, eating sothing too spicy could upset your stomach."
Nathalie Quinlan was a doctor herself; she was well aware of what he said. Hearing his words, she humd in acknowledgent but didn’t speak further.
anwhile, the Yancey family driver following behind them was dumbstruck.
Was Amadeus being too indulgent? He even helped a girl carry her bag and did it so naturally.
That girl too—before she arrived, he had heard Mr. Yancey ntion that this Ms. Quinlan had co from McKinney to Beijing to attend Tsinghua University’s independent recruitnt exam, originally being from McKinney.
A person from McKinney coming to dine at the Imperial Hotel and showing such lackluster enthusiasm. Did she even realize what kind of place the Imperial Hotel was, and how hard it was to get a reservation?
If Alfred Garland could hear his thoughts, he would inevitably burst out laughing.
After all, no matter how difficult it was to book a place at the Imperial Hotel, was the Waterfront Pavilion any easier to reserve?
Ms. Quinlan had previously booked an entire section of the Waterfront Pavilion that was not open to the public for her birthday, let alone securing a dining spot at the Imperial Hotel.
...
They had just gone in.
And right behind them, a black Bentley stopped at the entrance of the Imperial Hotel.
The valet recognized the license plate and quickly ran over to open the car door for them.
Caryn Zachmann was the first to step out of the car.
Today she wore a light pink contrasting chevron skirt paired with a black outfit that blended feminine softness with a confident, sharp style. She carried a bag in matching colors and looked bright and sprightly.
After stepping out of the car, she didn’t forget to wait for her mother to get down with her.
As soon as she got out, her brows conveyed a sense of unease, and she softly said, "Mom, do you think it’s too presumptuous of us to go directly to Mr. Norton like this?"
"Mr. Norton is rarely in Beijing; do you think he knows that we are looking for him?"
Celine Tucker was dressed in a high-necked satin blouse with traditional Chinese button knots, draped with a scarf, and holding a green Hers’Birkin bag. She wore no jewelry except for a black wristwatch, exuding elegance and femininity with every graceful smile.
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