Some principles are always conventional, for example, you should not wear the same clothes as the newlyweds at a wedding, and it is best not to wear the same clothes as the dead at a funeral.
The former may cause embarrassment, the latter... hard to say.
In short, the moment the host saw what the blond man was wearing, his brain was a little stuck.
But his professional qualities saved his life at this moment. The unclear syllable was quickly passed over and all eyes were focused on the man. Apparently no one cared about his mistake.
The host slightly adjusted his speaking speed, and the man seemed to adjust his pace to cooperate with him, and came to the waiting position as soon as he finished speaking.
Everything went according to plan. The moment Sharma saw the yellow-haired man, she stood up from her chair, straightened her dress which was a replica of the old times, and went to the waiting area on the other side.
The final edition of medals, which consisted of eleven medals, was now neatly placed in the center of the auditorium stage, held by a professional with steady hands, reflecting the light from above.
These eleven medals belong to the unknown yellow-haired man, the eight super-powered people near the west gate which was hit the hardest, and the two ordinary soldiers who fought to the death.
As the host finished speaking, Lin Qingliu on the side stepped onto the stage. Facing the cameras, he smiled brightly and sincerely.
After a brief silence, cheers seemed to spread from outside the auditorium into the hall, and the atmosphere was completely ignited at this moment.
However, the host was a little confused at this time——
He just simply punctuated the sentence, and the next sentence should have been "Please invite Congressman Sharma to award the medal to our hero", but before he could finish this sentence, the yellow-haired man had already strode over.
In a hurry, the host did not care about hierarchy and quickly winked at Sharma at the other end of the stage, signaling him to quickly go to the center - symmetry is a ritual aesthetic, no matter which world it is.
Sharma was originally standing very gracefully, with his head held high and his chest puffed out like an emperor penguin in heat, but he was caught off guard by the other party's sudden attack, and he quickly strode towards the center of the stage.
Logically speaking, after realizing his mistake, the yellow-haired guy should have slowed down a bit. After all, he was already here. If he wanted to offend everyone, why did he attend in person? He was not asking for trouble.
But Sharma, who is tall and has long legs, always feels that the opponent is going against him. If he walks faster, the yellow-haired guy on the opposite side will walk faster; if his stride is bigger, the opponent's stride will also be bigger.
As Sharma and the yellow-haired man got closer, he also noticed another thing - the yellow-haired man opposite was wearing something a bit similar to him?
The two seemed to have started a short walking race on the stage, but unfortunately the yellow-haired man who started early ended up winning unfairly and was the first to reach the center of the stage.
But the problem is not big, everything is still in the hands of the lawmakers.
The nine smart councillors other than Sharma were all staring at this side, as if they wanted to completely deconstruct what kind of person Huangmao was from his every move.
The more one faces such supreme honor, the more one's character can be seen.
Many guys who are usually calm and sophisticated will show genuine joy and unconscious humility when faced with an honor much lower than this.
Because, being awarded an honor is not only an honor, but also a reflection of status.
A person of a higher position cannot be honored by a person of a lower position, so whether recognized or not, accepting honors in public means accepting the hierarchy set by others.
Sharma arrived at the center of the stage a step later than Huangmao. He glanced at the other's face, which looked particularly convincing, and suppressed the contempt in his heart and smiled.
Just as Sharma was about to say a few words and then start awarding honors, he saw a hand passing by him.
Where did this hand come from?
He subconsciously looked in the direction of the yellow-haired man beside him, but found that the other party did not turn to the front, but still maintained a sideways posture facing the audience, and had already stretched out one hand towards the tray with the medal!
What is he going to do?!
In an instant, this question filled Sharma's mind, causing his brain to fall into a brief state of stagnation and almost on the verge of collapse.
He seemed to start thinking from the explosion of the universe and the birth of life, trying to explain what he saw from a more macro perspective.
As mentioned in some historical stories, an emperor once chose to crown himself in order to demonstrate his own extraordinary status.
That’s right, that’s right!
This was the last resistance of the guy in front of him, just like the ridiculous trick used by children when they were in class and could not dare to refute directly and could only gossip.
This guy in front of me just won a battle that he was bound to win. Why did he award himself a medal?
This approach has no benefits other than disgusting people and offending the members of parliament. It is a complete fight for personal gain.
A trace of anger appeared on Sharma's face, and his angry eyes turned to the staff member holding the tray, who had an extraordinary figure and appearance.
But the other party seemed to be completely caught off guard by this situation. What's more, most importantly, now that the whole process is being broadcast live, even if she is just an NPC passerby, she is still part of Hope City's reputation. She cannot move at all, let alone take a step back to avoid the hand that is about to reach into the tray.
Then, a shining gold medal was steadily taken out from the tray by that hand.
The exchange of glances and actions between the two lasted only a brief moment, but the audience saw it clearly.
Not only the audience in the audience, but even the people gathered around the group projection, who saw what happened clearly, were all stunned.
Only those sitting around the radio, listening to the quiet electrical noise, wondered if there was something wrong with their radios.
In the center of the auditorium stage, Sharma turned slightly and faced the man who was half a head taller than her again.
At this moment, the anger in his eyes was no longer concealed. His eyes seemed to have the ability to speak, and every moment they were conveying a message to the yellow-haired man opposite - give the medal to me.
This should have been his stage, but at this moment, this most important main course seemed as disgusting as if someone had spit on it.
Faced with this murderous gaze, the yellow-haired man under the spotlight showed a slightly innocent expression.
His facial muscles were relaxed and his eyes were slightly widened, as if he was completely unable to understand Sharma's anger.
The next moment, the doubt in his eyes solidified and turned into a sentence that drilled into Sharma's ears.
That was not sarcasm, nor was it a rhetorical question, but a genuine doubt.
He asked:
"What qualifications do you have to award me an honor?"
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