Lory observed the exhibition from the third floor, her gaze fixed on Zhao Li Xin below. He stood beside Hugo and Edmund, greeting the distinguished guests. Well—to be exact—it was Hugo and Edmund who handled the conversation, while Zhao Li Xin rely stood there like a flawless, untouchable mannequin.
A quiet sigh escaped her lips. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. For Zhao Li Xin, crowds and noise were the things he despised most. It was one of the reason why he choose to pretend as the "dying prince" for very long ti.
Zhao Li Xin had never found ease in the company of others. Their hollow smiles and petty intrigues were little more than a stale puppet show, endlessly repeated.
He loathed being disturbed so much that he would rather endure mockery and scorn than allow anyone to intrude upon his solitude. But here he was, deliberately stepping into the public eye.
And it actually worse because in his world there are no cara or social dia, no press or influencer that would report every single thing he do. It was so bad even her who grew in that environt avoid it as much as she can.
But Zhao Li Xin accepted it knowing a certain reputation needed to marry the princess of royal family like her, though they would be no resustance from the royal household but still people from other country would nitpicking him.
To ensure no stain touched Lory’s na, he chose the guise of a re painter, a profession that offered recognition yet drew little scrutiny.
It was an identity praised by the masses and dismissed by the powerful, celebrated enough to stand out, harmless enough to be ignored.
Such a thoughtful, loyal, and loving husband. Where else could she find an exceptional man like him? Well, not in this world, cause she had to go to another world to find him.
Lory’s eyes clung to him as the tide of guests swirled and shifted around his figure. It didn’t take long before she noticed the way many won couldn’t stop staring at Zhao Li Xin, their faces filled with awe and admiration.
So even dared to step closer, clearly hoping to strike up a conversation with the aloof genius. For a split second, Lory nearly vaulted over the railing of the third floor to intercept them.
But then, as always, Zhao Li Xin put her at ease. His replies were curt, his courtesy trimd to the barest politeness, and his expression as flat as stone. Within monts, each bold attempt crumbled into an awkward silence, sending the won away with stiff smiles or cheeks burning red.
Lory pressed a hand to her chest, exhaling a long sigh of relief. Thank heavens for his cold, unapproachable nature; most won simply couldn’t stand it for long.
Still, she narrowed her eyes warily. One could never be too careful. There was always the chance of that one crazy woman who might think his frosty attitude was part of the charm.
At that mont, Lory completely forgot her original intention of observing the guests’ movents. Instead, her gaze locked onto Zhao Li Xin like a hawk, following every flicker of attention that drifted toward him.
Unnable to gain Zhao Li xin attention with conversatiom, so won start flaunted their curves and paraded their dazzling dresses around her husband, each clearly hoping to catch his eye.
Lory nail trace the pillar, her expression turned as black as charchoal.
"Oh, the air conditioning is too cold, don’t you think?" one guest muttered, rubbing his arms and glaring up at the vent.
"Let’s ask the staff to turn it down," another agreed quickly.
"I think I’ll fetch my coat," a woman added with a shiver.
"Sa here!" soone chid in, and soon a handful of guests hurried off to the cloakroom.
Zhao Li Xin tilted his head ever so slightly toward the third floor. The faintest tug curved his lips. Knowing who the perpetratoris who caused all of this.
Honestly, he couldn’t stand those won buzzing around him either. Their perfu assaulted his senses, and their dresses dirtied his eyes.
Most of all, he can’t stand their makeup. He almost taken a step back when he saw their hollow face, with dark eyes, and what shocked him more is their thick lips,it was so thick it’s like a pair of fat leech join together.
Is such makeup really necessary?
He barely able to hide his disgust, when Lory suddenly intervened. What a luck, without her, he might have lost his patience and said sothing he shouldn’t say to all those woman, like: ’Scram.’
Zhao Li Xin released a quiet sigh, his steps carrying him toward one of the paintings as though the canvas itself offered sanctuary.
It was a asured retreat, a graceful way to set distance between himself and the throng. Solitude had always been his elent; reclusive by instinct, he bore little tolerance for the clamor of strangers.
The only thing that made his situation bearable was knowing Lory was not far from him, her gaze fixed on him with quiet intensity. That thought alone lent him comfort enough to endure, giving him the strength to continue through the suffocating rituals of the evening.
Suddenly, a stir rippled through the grand entrance. Murmurs rose, followed by the sharp staccato of heels against marble. A group dressed in stark monochro, black and white like living chess pieces, swept into the hall.
The crowd instinctively parted, leaving a clear path as the rapid-fire clicks of caras echoed like distant thunder, flashes chasing their every step.
Leaning casually against a pillar, arms folded across her chest, Lory watched with a faintly amused smile.
"Well, well," she chuckled softly, her tone dripping with irony. "Fashionably late, huh."
A voice crackled in her earpiece—Fargo’s low, steady murmur.
"Do you see them, Lory?"
"Uh-huh," she replied without shifting her gaze.
Her eyes narrowed, focusing on the young blonde woman who smiled shyly under the barrage of attention. Alinna’s knee-length white satin dress glead under the chandeliers, its delicate lace appliqués and cap sleeves framing her youthful fra with an elegance almost too mature for her.
The fitted bodice shimred with romantic detail, the skirt flowing gently with each step, a portrait of understated grace. But to Lory, the dress did not suit Alinna’s sweet and innocent look. She looked more like a little girl wearing her mother’s gown.
Lory then shifted her eyes on the man at Alinna’s side. Alexander Behrenn walked arm-in-arm with the so-called saintess, gazing down at her with doting warmth. To the crowd, he radiated the tenderness of a father figure, a protector.
Yet Lory’s eyes narrowed. She found it difficult to believe such affection could be genuine. A man as ambitious as Alexander Behrenn was unlikely to treat anyone with unguarded sincerity. Whether Alinna failed to see through the act, or knowingly played her part, remained uncertain.
Trailing behind them was Salvo De Rova, a study in suave refinent. His dark grey suit clung perfectly to his tall fra, the crisp white shirt beneath accentuating the sharpness of his presence.
His long blond hair was slicked neatly back, each strand disciplined into place. He carried himself with princely poise, drawing lingering glances and hushed whispers from the crowd. Unlike Zhao Li Xin’s untouchable aura, Salvo’s polished charm invited approach.
His bright, dazzling smile sent ripples of excitent through the hall, leaving young girls giggling and blushing in his presence.
Salvo suddenly felt a sharp gaze pierce his direction.
Instinctively, his eyes lifted, sweeping the second floor,but no one was there. For a brief mont, his attention shifted higher, lingering on the empty third floor.
A flicker of curiosity and caution passed through his eyes, his expression tightening ever so slightly. Then a voice nearby called his na, pulling him back. In an instant, the tension lted from his face, replaced by a dazzling, welcoming smile. His entire deanor shifted, once again the picture of charm and effortless grace.
By the ti Salvo’s eyes swept the upper levels, Lory had already shifted to another hidden vantage point. When she erged again to resu her watch, a cool, knowing smile touched her lips. Her gaze lingered on Salvo, sharp with calculation as she muttered under her breath, her words edged with quiet precision.
"Sensitive... and cautious. Not bad." Lory’s smile deepened faintly as she unwrapped a lollipop with deliberate ease.
She popped it into her mouth, a casual gesture at odds with the sharp glint in her eyes as she continued to watch the scene unfolding below.
"How’s the situation, Lory?" Fargo’s voice called.
"Under control," she replied nonchalantly, pulling the lollipop from her mouth to smack her lips. "How’s Lucas?" she ask.
"Ready," Fargo said, his tone calm but tinged with restrained excitent.
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