Chapter 8. Wynne doesn't say anything, but Wyn...
The address Yuan Ning received was located at 1 Willow Street, Brooklyn Heights.
Avoiding weekday mornings at 8 a.m., she boarded the subway in Williamsburg on time, got off 2 kilometers from the terminal, found a coffee shop restroom, and finished her final grooming, making sure that every strand of her hair was in perfect condition from head to toe.
When she pushed open the glass door of the café with the most professional and impeccable demeanor, she looked out at the end of the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, where even in winter, the area was lush and prosperous.
It does not stretch straight toward its destination, but rather ascends slowly along the terrain of the highlands in an elegant and subtle arc, as if carefully guarding the centuries-old mansions inside.
The road beneath my feet was no longer the rough asphalt of Williamsburg, but paved with huge, smooth stone slabs.
Continuing on, the street is lined with rows of 19th-century townhouses, like a silent group of gentlemen dressed in old tailcoats.
Under the winter sun, the dark sandstone facades display rich colors resembling honey, chocolate, and even charcoal gray, conveying a sense of weight and stability.
Absolute stillness, broken only by the occasional clear bird song; though the tall plane trees have shed their leaves, their vigorous branches still weave a well-ordered net in the air.
Unlike the top-tier apartments in Manhattan, which are home to financial tycoons and nouveau riche, where towering skyscrapers overlooking the world are certainly more suitable for them, Brooklyn Heights, especially its mansions dating back to the 19th century, represents heritage and time.
Yuan Ning recalled her childhood "home," where her father was known to outsiders as a very successful private entrepreneur, and her family naturally lived in a villa.
In China at that time, villas decorated in European style were considered very high-class.
It features imitation Roman columns and arched windows, with intricate plaster reliefs and decorative lines on the walls, evoking associations of romance, luxury, and aristocratic grandeur.
Why Lenovo?
Yuan Ning now understands that such a decorating style was merely the yearning of the first group of people in China who had become rich for a "Western-style good life".
She grew up in that kind of home and thought she was a princess.
Standing among these buildings, which are historical relics, Yuan Ning suddenly felt as if she had just woken up from a dream.
The classic facade, the mahogany spiral staircase, and the ancient garden are irreplaceable.
She felt an unprecedented clarity that pierced through her understanding of the past twenty years.
She didn't know what to say, but she suddenly felt that she might not have lost anything at all.
Those ostentatious and empty things, perhaps they simply disappeared without us.
She had a feeling that she would have more in this place, through her own hard work.
She looked up at No. 1 Willow Street, her face beaming with excitement.
She used to live on Garden Avenue, a neighborhood full of hedge fund traders, always in a hurry, always in suits, and of course, carrying huge sums of money. She used to think she was in the same social class as them, but clearly she wasn't, and she never would be.
Yuan Ning finally stopped in front of No. 1 Willow Street. The brass doorplate looked cold and restrained against the red brick wall.
[Van der Berg's House]
Yuan Ning raised her hand but couldn't find the door knocker. On the seemingly seamless wall, there was only an extremely inconspicuous brass button, next to which was a slender microphone.
She pressed it, the sound crisp and brief, quickly absorbed by the surrounding silence.
Almost without waiting, a calm female voice came through the microphone. The tone was beautiful, and every vowel was pronounced fully and rounded, making it very pleasant to listen to.
"Please come in, Ms. Meng."
With an almost inaudible mechanical whirring, the heavy, solid black oak door slid open silently inward.
Everything made Yuan Ning's breath catch in her throat.
A gentle aroma, a blend of cedar, parchment, and a faint hint of white tea, wafts towards you.
Yuan Ning's senses were simultaneously pushed to their limits. It was a stunningly high foyer, with dark walnut wood floors reflecting the soft sunlight streaming in from the huge floor-to-ceiling windows.
It is not noisy at all, but it has the absolute power to devour all attention.
This place was unlike any luxurious place she had ever been to in her life. It was neither extravagant nor ostentatious; it simply existed, like an invisible boundary that clearly separated the inner and outer worlds.
“Ms. Meng, you’re right on time.” Theodora van der Berg stood in the center of the foyer, her hand resting on the sheepskin sofa.
She wore a minimalist, brand-indiscernible light gray cashmere dress, with a pearl necklace around her neck. Her light blonde hair was neatly styled into a bun at the back of her head, revealing a defined jawline.
Her age was hard to pinpoint accurately, as there were subtle signs of aging on her face. However, her icy blue eyes, identical to Elias's, possessed an even greater penetrating power. When they fell upon Yuan Ning, they were scrutinizing, yet strangely, they did not feel offensive.
Yuan Ning had only glanced at Elias's appearance once, but she already knew where his blond hair and blue eyes came from.
Yuan Ning wore the Dior suit she had worn to the party that day. Having been tested at the party, she knew that it was appropriate and respectable, enough to demonstrate her taste as a member of high society.
And she was certain that Mrs. Van der Berg did not attend the party.
The other person's gaze made her feel an unprecedented pressure, but this pressure made her straighten her back even more. She met those eyes and gave them a smile that combined respect and personal charm.
"Mrs. Van der Berg, it is an honor to meet you."
That pressure lasted only a moment before being crushed by a more powerful emotion.
That feeling is called hunger and thirst.
An almost greedy hunger for upper-class knowledge, rules, and the unknown world.
She took a small breath, the scent filling her lungs.
His chin maintained a subtle angle that was neither humble nor arrogant, and all the subtle fluctuations on his face caused by shock and resentment were quickly smoothed out, leaving only a completely focused calm.
She knew that the assessment had already begun the moment she stepped through that door. And she couldn't wait.
“You can call me Theodora. Elias is in his study handling some business and will meet you later. In the meantime, I can show you around Elias’s dressing room.”
Yuan Ning followed Theodora through the foyer and into a relatively narrow corridor. After passing the magnificent living room and indoor garden, Theodora pushed open a wooden door that matched the color of the walls.
Of course, the magnificent living room and indoor garden also greatly filled Yuan Ning's senses, but she had no time to appreciate them before she entered this extremely sophisticated space.
The smell in the air was stronger and more personal.
The scent that filled Yuan Ning's nostrils was that of a man. Although she didn't really know him yet, his scent was the first to hit her and unilaterally flooded in, which was very alluring.
Yuan Ning breathed quietly.
His walk-in closet was extremely meticulously designed.
Suits, shirts, ties, cufflinks, leather shoes... all are categorized by color, fabric, and occasion.
“As his dress consultant, Ms. Meng, you should have a detailed guide that is synchronized with his electronic calendar.”
Theodora handed her a folder, and judging from the table of contents, it contained the codes for all of Elias's clothing.
His walk-in closet was built on order, and Yuan Ning, whose math grades had always been good, quickly understood his system of order.
For example, on the left is the formal wear section, where several bespoke suits are meticulously supported like sculptures, next to matching dress shoes, the shoe lasts clearly custom-made to fit perfectly. All accessories—bow ties, cufflinks, pocket watch chains—are neatly arranged on dedicated trays.
They are all very rigid, yet their combinations are worth considering.
To be honest, after taking a stroll through Elias's wardrobe, Yuan Ning thought that this man had excellent taste and only needed to wear appropriate outfits for the occasion. However, Theodora paid her $3,000 a week to be her style consultant, so it must not be such a simple request. Yuan Ning suddenly felt a lot more pressure.
She worries that her styling suggestions will be scorned by people like Elias.
After all, she may have some talent in art and aesthetics, but she is just a little girl who has not yet entered society.
Her prized taste and fashion sense can only rival those of fashion magazines.
“Please be bolder in the future, Miss Meng. We invited you here because we don’t want Elias to keep dressing so rigidly.”
Is it rigid? Yuan Ning was already deeply captivated by the taste in this walk-in closet. Or perhaps, what captivated her was his scent, the scent of absolute control she sensed from the orderliness of the space.
“His profession is different from the rest of the family. By the way, I haven’t told you yet, Elias runs an investment bank on Wall Street. The atmosphere there is very different from here. Do you know what people say about him?”
Yuan Ning asked curiously, "What do people say about Mrs. Van der Berg?"
"Pretentious."
Yuan Ning thought of Elias, whom she had seen at Daniel's restaurant that day. He was indeed different from the people around him. He seemed to be in a separate space, unlike the financial elites that Yuan Ning usually met.
But Yuan Ning didn't find him that strange. The difference between him and others didn't come from the price of his clothes or the inconspicuous brand labels, but from something deeper.
Yuan Ning had to admit that, without realizing it, she had already tasted that man from head to toe countless times.
But when she thought of the other party's mother's evaluation—"pretentious"—Yuan Ning suddenly burst out laughing.
Mrs. Theodora smiled and said, "That's why we need you, Miss Meng. Professor Miller strongly recommended you to me. I hope you can help Elias change his outdated dressing habits. After all, times have changed."
Yuan Ning felt flattered; she hadn't expected Professor Miller to recommend her so "strongly."
"But I have to admit that although I am very satisfied with your information, the final decision is made by Elias himself. As his mother, I can only help him screen candidates, not make the final decision."
These words brought Yuan Ning a brief, almost imperceptible dizziness.
Several thoughts flashed through her mind.
It turns out that this internship didn't come to her so easily and reliably; it might have been just a hair's breadth away from being hers.
Behind this thought, she realized that Elias had chosen her personally—the man in the charcoal gray suit with a cigar in his hand—who had selected her after reviewing her resume; he had approved of her.
The masculine scent in the air became even more tangible at that moment.
Wynne didn't say it, but she was secretly thrilled.
"Mother."
Yuan Ning's heart skipped a beat, but she still turned her head gracefully.
Elias van der Berg had been standing there for who knows how long, and his pronunciation of "mother" was no longer the common usage.
About two hundred years ago, people called their mothers this way, but nowadays, most people use the simplified version, "mom".
But the word, when uttered by him, had a unique quality, as if the title itself were a complete and solemn sentence.
Yuan Ning found it very pleasant to hear. If she were a "mother," her son would feel especially respected when he called her that, but it wouldn't lose its intimacy.
Theodora turned around: "Elijas, have you finished your work?"
Yuan Ning's breath hitched. The masculine scent in the air suddenly became stronger, unlike what she had imagined when she was alone. With the master present, everything changed.
It was no longer an object she secretly savored, but had become an invisible extension of its owner. He came.
A note from the author:
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