Artie suddenly thought of Gordon Sterling.
She couldn’t help but imagine, if the super stern talent manager were here, would he have whisked her away before The Jilted could patiently explain?
A talent manager who cares deeply about their "artist" usually can’t bear to see the artist they nurtured be wronged and slandered, can they?
The more Artie thought, the more anxious she beca, and the more anxious, the more she felt like falling apart.
"It’s okay." Sumr Fairmont left these two words for Sean Lowell, then turned to comfort Artie: "Don’t cry."
Sa two-word phrases, both without expression.
It’s okay, those two words carry no emotion.
Don’t cry, those two words are filled with a sense of affection.
Sumr Fairmont had no special feelings for the whiskey she inherited.
Nor did she have that deep love that can’t tolerate a bit of slander.
She truly grew up in an ancient whiskey family, but she knew nothing about whiskey, let alone loved it.
All Sumr Fairmont had was an extraordinary capacity for alcohol and a belief in drinking only strong spirits.
Compared to whether the whiskey that suddenly appeared in her life would be recomnded or not, Sumr Fairmont cared more about whether Artie would cry.
She wanted to reconcile with her past, with the world, but how could her many years of growth be easily let go?
People are sotis like this, able to hold back tears until comforted, then once consoled, the tears pooled in the eyes start to fall one after another.
The Pouting Siren’s usual way of crying is to hold onto Sumr Fairmont, whining while seeking comfort.
The tears might be real, but the crying is often fake.
The Devilish Lolita had never cried without a sound like she did now.
Sumr Fairmont couldn’t bear to see Artie fall apart in front of her, like a parent who can’t stand to see their child cry.
In a mont of urgency, Sumr Fairmont, who could only say two-word phrases in Chinese, burst into a thick Scottish-accented English:
{Kind reminder: For plot’s sake, you may skip this part if you don’t read English.}
"I don’t really care what you gonna say about the whiskey."
"You could have just blad it, down to the hell."
"Say whatever you wanna say about it."
"Say why you don’t like peat, for now, for this mont, or forever."
"And of course, just bring it with you, to the live, and say, not even a word."
The Devilish Lolita shook her head, covering her ears: "Ah, Sumr, Artie has told you so many tis, when with Artie, no speaking English! Artie won’t listen, won’t listen."
Artie diverted her attention with her playful whining, drying her eyes in hopes of shutting off her tear ducts.
After completing a whole set of "pretending not to know," she realized Sumr Fairmont’s words were ant for Sean Lowell.
The Pouting Siren raised her tear-filled little head, cautiously sobbing out a pressing question: "Sean... Master Sean Lowell, do you... need... need a translation, h?"
Artie’s tears found salvation at that mont.
With her tearful eyes, she smiled: "Artie is super good at translating!"
From being super good with a spoon to super good at translating, it was a qualitative leap.
Sean Lowell was shocked.
Shocked at Sumr Fairmont’s indifferent attitude towards her family’s whiskey.
Even more shocked at Artie’s rapid change of face.
How can there be soone so emotionally rich in this world?
Does Winters Ambassador’s daily mood swings exceed a lifeti’s for most people?
Sean Lowell looked at Artie and felt pricked by sothing.
He didn’t like that feeling.
So, Sean Lowell adjusted his gaze slightly, responding to Sumr Fairmont’s words:
"As you wish."—As you wish!
ヾ(≧O≦)〃~What~Mommy~Huli~Excuse ! Just like that, it was as you wish?
"Ah, um... Master Sean, Sumr did ntion several scenarios, which one are you going to fulfill... ah hey?"
The Translation Ambassador, who hadn’t achieved translation success, felt quite down.
Sumr painstakingly said such a long sentence, it was Artie’s perfect chance to turn over a new leaf and showcase herself, but the super-skilled translator Artie hadn’t even started before getting off the stage?
Sumr Fairmont said five sentences in total:
[I don’t really care what you gonna say about the whiskey.]
[You could have just blad it, down to hell.]
[Say whatever you wanna say.]
[Say why you don’t like peat, for now, for this mont, or forever.]
[And of course, just bring it with you, to the live, and say, not even a word.]
Each sentence seed to carry a different aning; fulfilling any random one might lead to "wine’s destiny"...right?
Sean Lowell didn’t let the suspense last too long; before leaving The Vaughn Siblings’ ho and getting into Gordon Sterling’s GMC, he left one final statent.
"Not even a word." Sean Lowell said he wouldn’t ntion a word.
Sean Lowell’s English had no accent, just very standard pronunciation, sowhat like an electronic dictionary’s robotic voice, but with the advantage of clarity, free from any misunderstandings caused by an accent.
After Sean Lowell left, Artie felt quite disappointed.
Not ntioning a word—doesn’t that equate to refusing the recomndation?
She really, really wrecked things completely.
Yet at that mont, Sumr Fairmont softly said to Artie: "Thank you."
Sumr’s two-word phrase made Artie’s disappointnt skyrocket.
"Oh, co on, even Sumr is picking on Artie." Artie felt very guilty, so guilty that she felt like crying again.
"No comnt. The best comnt." Sumr Fairmont earnestly wiped the tears from Artie’s face.
For Sumr Fairmont, that was definitely a long phrase in Chinese.
If Artie continued crying, it would be entirely beyond Sumr Fairmont’s ability to explain in Chinese.
Nation’s Gentleman intervened before Sumr could start spouting English again, joining the ranks to console his sister: "Sumr ans that no comnt is the best comnt. Our Winters Ambassador truly accomplished sothing remarkable today."
Artie wasn’t imdiately comforted; instead, she returned to a state where her tears seed ready to burst out in the next second: "Oh brother, you’re just coaxing ! Artie isn’t a three-year-old child!"
"Brother isn’t coaxing you this ti." Leo Vaughn smiled gently, his deep eyes conveying endless sincerity.
"Artie doesn’t want to believe!" Artie said she didn’t believe, but her eyes looked expectant.
"Think about it seriously, when you usually watch a live stream, what do you see in the fra?" Leo guided her step by step: "Brother ans besides the host."
"There are the sponsor’s computers... beverages... and what else?" Artie thought obediently.
"Oh right, only products from strategic partners appear in the live stream! Oh brother, just now, just now, Master Sean Lowell’s intention was to have Sumr’s family whiskey next to him during the live stream without making any comnt, is that what he ant?!"
Artie finally realized, but she was still a bit unsure: "Master Sean Lowell... maybe he didn’t understand?"
"He did." Leo responded with great certainty.
"Really? Truly? Really, really, truly?" Artie was both excited and unbelieving.
The sunlight wasn’t as brilliant as Artie’s smile.
"Whether or not it’s true, we’ll know tomorrow, won’t we?" Nation’s Gentleman wiped a tear that inadvertently overflowed from Artie’s eye before smiling and asking the next question: "Sumr’s been on a plane all day, shouldn’t you take her to rest first?"
"Ah, Sumr, you’re amazing! In that instant, you ca up with the best proposal to leave for last. You knew it would turn out this way from the start, right?"
Artie once again clung to Sumr Fairmont: "Ah, Sumr, if I didn’t have you, I would have ssed everything up, what would Artie do without you?"
Sumr Fairmont didn’t speak; she just watched as the Devilish Lolita backed away into the family elevator after letting go of her.
Artie backed away, taking Sumr Fairmont to the second-floor guest room.
The Wrestling Siren had a special skill completely unmatched by her wrestling abilities—backing away without tripping.
Sumr Fairmont just watched, as if if she watched closely enough, she could hand over all her unexpressed emotions to Artie.
Pour my heart’s emotions out to you, so your smile can fill my heart.
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