Chapter 19 (Part 1) No pain, no gain.

"Leander? Why bring him up?" The beauty looked at her with disdain. "Didn't you come here just to watch the show?"

To avoid getting into trouble, Leander and Miss Francisco hadn't seen each other since Leander abducted her, only occasionally keeping in touch. On his way here, he encountered Leander, who was leisurely vacationing with Miss Francisco, and at Leander's suggestion, he made contact with the famous Count of Tulips.

He had heard of this count before. In the public eye, the Count of Tulip was a true nobleman, a perfect gentleman, possessing all the qualities a nobleman should have. Of course, he wasn't naive enough to believe in such "perfection." It was only after the count agreed to help and came to Sicily with him that he discovered how distorted this "perfect image" was—it was a complete deception, and the Count of Tulip was a "perfect"... actor, the kind of actor worthy of an Oscar. The rumored Count of Tulip, who was supposedly indifferent to women, was actually a perverted lecherous old man. If this fact were made public, it would surely shock countless eyes and shatter countless hearts.

The beauty was secretly grumbling to herself when she saw the count suddenly become serious, his tone very earnest: "I never expected you to think that way, it really hurts me. It seems necessary to make you understand why I came with you in the first place."

Upon hearing this, the beauty raised an eyebrow but remained silent. Let's hear what he has to say.

"I did it all for you...this face." The count suddenly lowered his head and quickly kissed the beauty's forehead, his hand caressing her fair, smooth cheek. "She's my ideal type. What a pity...mmm..."

His words were abruptly cut off by a fair and graceful hand—his neck was gripped tightly, preventing anyone from continuing. The count's handsome face gradually flushed red, and the hand that had been pressing against the beauty's face slowly slid down, its fingers gently touching her rose-colored lips, a clear smile appearing in his eyes. It must be said that to be able to act in this situation, the count's "courage" as a nobleman was quite commendable.

"Count Tulip's life is worth a lot. If you don't want it to be wasted in my hands, you'd better behave yourself." The beauty said indifferently, slowly loosening her grip on the man's neck. She turned to the side and back to her original position, turning her face to the window and refusing to look at the man again.

The count reached out and touched his neck, which had several finger marks on it. He coughed lightly twice and continued to laugh, "It's a pity you're a man. Otherwise, what would it matter if I died at your hands? The Chinese say, 'To die under a peony is to die a romantic death.' It would be a great honor for me to die under a rose."

"Let me remind you, there is no one named 'Rose' here." The beauty didn't turn her head, her voice as cold and elegant as metal. "I'll only say this once."

Upon hearing this, the Earl's smile deepened: "Oh? If you're not 'Rose,' you really want to stay 'Miss Peggy' forever? Then be more professional! Miss Peggy wouldn't make such a strange sound, would she?"

In the end, all he's doing is making him keep pretending to be a woman! He's sick! The beauty finally couldn't take it anymore and stood up, ready to leave: "If you really can't remember what we wanted to talk about, then I'm sorry, I'm not keeping you company." This boring man had no intention of discussing anything serious; there was no need for him to waste his time here.

“Ah, Mr. Si Qiang, I remember now.” The count swiftly grabbed the hem of his skirt, his frivolous smile quickly transforming into a standard gentleman’s smile. His deep, lake-blue eyes radiated a reassuring warmth, making one wonder if his previous rude behavior had ever happened. “I’ve received some information about that little Francisco. I think you would be interested.”

The beautiful woman glanced down at him, slowly sat down, and said with a hint of sarcasm, "Oh, I'm so glad you finally remembered. I'm truly grateful."

The count shrugged, looking completely innocent. "I hope you can understand—old folks get old, and they tend to forget things easily."

Looking at the man's harmless smiling face, Si Qiang suddenly felt powerless. Luis Miller, 33 years old, the renowned Earl of Tulips, was truly a difficult character to deal with—in every sense of the word. He wisely decided to ignore the man's nonsense and cut straight to the point: "Please get to the point."

The count slowly curled the corners of his lips: "I believe you are ready... No pain, no gain—is that how it is?"