At Sheraton Hotel in Flower City, within the presidential suite on the top floor that cost twenty thousand yuan a night, a tall and fashionable woman in a chiffon maxi dress looked indifferently out of the window at Moon Viewing Lake.
The girl had eyebrows like painted strokes and eyes like autumn waters, full and sparkling, her lips a vibrant red, exuding the sensuality of Western beauty and overflowing with charm.
By her side stood an unremarkable-looking old man, skinny as a kindling with deep-set eyes, dressed in a dark red traditional Tang suit that seemed to dangle on him awkwardly, like it was hanging from a tree—completely out of place. But the occasional gleam in his eyes was piercing, capturing the soul, demanding respect.
