As they were talking, Robert Thomson's phone rang: "Mr. Thomson, it's time."
"I know." After hanging up, Emma Smith straightened his clothes, which had become a bit wrinkled from her leaning on him. He looked at her with a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
=========================
This banquet was held in the hotel's banquet hall. The gentle evening breeze blew through, cool but not cold, softly caressing the exposed skin of the guests. The air was filled with a fresh scent.
Emma Smith, holding onto Robert Thomson's arm, stepped into the banquet hall. The lights, the venue, the music, and the delicacies surrounded them, as did the most important aspect - the well-dressed people exuding an air of wealth and nobility.
As for these people, Emma Smith didn't know any of them, nor did she feel it necessary to get to know them. She simply played the role of Robert Thomson's decorative porcelain doll: smiling, nodding, and raising her glass was enough.
