At the exhibition, Myron, dressed in a bespoke tuxedo with a dark gray bow tie around his neck, looked nervous.
Her chestnut-brown short hair was meticulously styled, and she stood at the entrance of the exhibition with one arm around a bunch of poppies made of dandelions, looking out from time to time.
"Has Ruan not arrived yet? I'm a little nervous. Ian, look at my hair, is it messy?"
His exaggerated and foolish manner made the foreign guests, who yearned for romance and freedom, almost guess what he wanted to do.
They stopped leaving and gathered in small groups to watch the spectacle of Myron's courtship.
The foreign guests responded with immense enthusiasm, and as the atmosphere reached a minor climax, someone in the translation team suddenly asked a thought-provoking question.
"Mr. Myron, if I remember correctly, you're already married and have a family, aren't you?"
The room fell silent for a moment, then erupted into an even more enthusiastic discussion.
One of them stood up and replied with a smile: "Dear Chinese friends, you should know that love and family are not in conflict."
One woman nodded in agreement: "The feeling of being with your lover is wonderful."
A question mark slowly appeared above the questioner's head: ?
In the command center on the second floor, a group of leaders in charge of the exhibition looked down through the open doors at the scene below.
The elderly man with glasses nearly snapped the pen in two with a forceful pull: "This is an insult to culture, an insult to culture, and a bad influence on morals."
He directed the red-armbanded men behind him, "Go down and warn the troublemaking foreign guests. If they don't respond after three warnings, expel them."
The others smiled and remained silent. To be honest, they were quite curious to see how Ruan Xianxian would handle the courtship scene, but such a trend should not be tolerated.
As they were talking, a black SUV pulled up in front of the door, the door opened, and two men and two women got out.
The translator, Ruan, who was at the head of the group, was carrying cloth bags in both hands and was smiling and exchanging pleasantries with two tall foreign guests beside him.
She deliberately left late, aiming to intercept Clarence, a client the garment factory had specifically requested. She used a suit to lure him into her car at the hotel entrance.
Oliver and their accompanying translator were also present.
As they walked and talked, one of them asked, "What do you think the best suit should look like?"
Ruan Xianxian fiddled with the keys, her mind already racing. Answering questions about cutting patterns and fabrics in front of professionals would undoubtedly be a mistake.
He talked about details and craftsmanship, and then subtly led to the brand founded by the Clarence family, praising it extensively. While praise may make people feel comfortable and happy, it is ultimately just flattery.
So the correct answer to this question is...
Ruan Xianxian turned her head, and golden light shone through the shadows of the trees onto her delicate, fair profile. "I think it's the soul."
A good suit isn't about choosing who wears it; it's about being able to carry off any style or personality.
What catches the eye at first glance isn't how good the clothes are, but rather how the seemingly ordinary clothes are made to look sophisticated by the man.
It's a bit of a reversal of priorities to decide what clothes to wear and what accessories to use for what occasion.
For example, this plaid suit you're wearing—if I may be so bold—completely obscures your elegant and dignified demeanor.
The shirt collar was too high, obscuring the neckline, so a khaki top hat had to be worn to match it.
These remarks made Clarence abruptly stop in his tracks, his expression turning sour. No one would be pleased to have their taste so utterly disparaged.
Crucially, he is also a high-end brand businessman.
The gaze, looking down from above, suddenly stopped.
The female translator was wearing a set of work clothes with the sleeves pulled up to her forearms. A simple belt separated her upper and lower body, making her upper body appear shorter and her lower body longer. She was only about chest height, but at first glance, it was all legs.
He has only one impression of the current clothing style in China: just enough to cover the body.
But this woman, whose seemingly simple attire amplified every advantage she possessed, slightly changed his opinion of her.
He suppressed the disdain in his eyes, put on a smile, and performed an extremely gentlemanly gesture.
“My dear lady, you have convinced me. Well, I’m starting to get interested in the suit you’re holding.”
"No, no, no." The girl waved her hand shyly, "I'm not a lady, only your country is worthy of me."
Clarence didn't say anything. That's how Chinese people are; excessive modesty is just petty.
As the two walked and talked, they passed by Myron, who was staring at her longingly, but this man who didn't care about other people's lives didn't even glance at her.
Myron clutched her pounding chest and grabbed Ian beside her: "Did you see that? The way she ignored me was so cool."
Ian: ? ? ?
I had to remind him: "If you don't take action soon, they'll all disappear without a trace."
Myron slapped his forehead, flashed a bright smile, and prepared to deliver a classic love confession scene from a movie...
He extends his hand, turns his upper body slightly to the side, and waits for the next moment to take his lover's hand before kneeling on one knee to offer his most sincere and passionate love.
That's what Myron thought, and that's what he did.
Before he could even turn his face, his hand was already holding another person's hand. He was delighted, but also a little doubtful. Was this hand a little too big and rough?
But the other party's lack of resistance made him forget about that strange thing. He suddenly turned around, knelt on one knee, and raised the poppy to his forehead to block his vision.
"Meeting you, I would call it a miracle of life. I am willing to play a supporting role. I see no one else but you. I love you without telling anyone else."
You are the sun, and I offer you my whole heart. Will you be my lover?
It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Even the red armbands that had rushed over in a menacing manner were stunned, unsure of what to do next.
Ah, this...
After waiting for a long time without a response, and sensing something was amiss, Myron finally moved the poppy that was blocking his view to a different position...
Looking up, when his affectionate gaze fell upon the man whose hand he was holding, his expression nearly cracked, and his pupils dilated as if they had undergone a magnitude 12 earthquake.
That's right, he was holding hands with a man!
It's his arch-enemy!
Suddenly shaking off Oliver's large hand, Myron stood up, staggering, her voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability and collapse: "Oliver, how is it you?"
He disgustedly pulled off the handkerchief and wiped it repeatedly on the hand that had held the other person's hand.
Finally, he threw the handkerchief on the ground and stomped on it hard.
Oliver withdrew his hand, which had been flung away, his voice calm and his expression unchanged. "So, you enjoyed smashing your head in last time, didn't you?"
"Shut up." Myron took a step back, his helpless gaze meeting the many onlookers who were watching the spectacle, and he felt increasingly devastated.
"Who's happy? I just pulled the wrong person."
His words only made things worse, as the room erupted in laughter, filled with amusement and amusement at the spectacle.
Suddenly, a large hand grabbed Oliver's waist and pulled him into his arms. Clarence's face was grim, and his voice was like a blizzard.
“You dared to steal my people in public, Myron. I think I need to have a word with the head of the Smith family.”
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com