272-273

*Chapter 272: Why Not?*

The night sky descended as the shoreline of Repulse Bay shimmered under dazzling lights, creating a dreamy, surreal scene.

On the fine, soft sand, the breeze gently swept through, casting fleeting shadows of strolling figures.

In the distance, luxury villas perched against the mountains and overlooking the sea glowed resplendently, resembling palaces on the ocean, exuding opulence and grandeur.

Inside one of these mansions, a lavish high-society cocktail party was in full swing.

With elegantly dressed guests mingling, clinking glasses, and the harmonious blend of music and laughter, the night was infused with romance and indulgence.

Lin Baixin, Chairman of Lixin Group and a tycoon in Hong Kong’s garment industry, was among the attendees.

However, Lin Baixin could never have anticipated this moment.

As a businessman ranked roughly twentieth among Hong Kong's wealthiest—neither exceptionally rich nor influential—he found himself receiving treatment tonight that even the four old families, the new elite families, and prominent clans like the Ho and Ho-Tung families couldn’t enjoy.

Why? Because, after Sir Run Run Shaw, the Americans had "taken notice" of him.

Well, "taken notice" might be an exaggeration, but they had indeed sought him out for a conversation.

“...Lin, while your TV station isn't as established as Shaw’s, it does have slightly better international reach than Shaw’s TVB,” the American said.

“I believe your station should focus on expanding in Southeast Asia or heading north to your motherland. Only by doing so can you truly compete with TVB.”

“You might consider focusing on regional international news to enhance your influence among Asians and within Confucian cultural circles.”

“Don’t limit yourself to this small city of Hong Kong to compete with TVB.”

“To be frank, Hong Kong is excellent in many ways, but its potential is too limited. I mentioned to your best actor last time: Hong Kong should position itself as a hub radiating influence over Southeast Asia and parts of South Asia.”

“One of Asia’s international financial centers must represent more than just Hong Kong’s future.”

“...”

The American spoke on a wide array of topics, including international affairs and Hong Kong’s future development and positioning.

He even brought up the prominent figure who had personally attended the ceremony when Hong Kong returned to China just months ago.

Lin Baixin smiled bitterly to himself. He had no qualifications to discuss such matters.

Among all the prominent figures and tycoons in Hong Kong, perhaps only a few veterans like Ho, Tsang, or Chong could leverage their seniority to have such conversations with the northern leader.

But with Hong Kong’s complex internal situation, even if the northern side had such intentions, whether Hong Kong itself could deliver was another issue entirely.

As for his own TV station? Lin Baixin guessed that might be why the Americans were interested in him.

Just like with Sir Run Run Shaw.

The American had a natural fondness for media moguls, given his own background in the industry.

Earlier, the American had chatted with Sir Run Run Shaw, and now he had turned to Lin Baixin.

But honestly, regarding Asia Television (ATV)…

In the early years after acquiring it, Lin Baixin had been genuinely invested in running it well.

The reforms that made ATV moderately successful were initiatives Lin personally implemented back then.

However, he later realized that the Hong Kong market was too small.

Even if he managed to develop ATV to surpass TVB and dominate the Hong Kong market, the annual profits wouldn’t compare to the yearly 10% growth in revenue from his main business, Lixin Group.

It was like doubling the effort for half the return—too much work for too little money.

So, Lin gradually shifted his focus away from ATV, treating it as just another item on his extensive list of assets.

But to his surprise, this minor asset in his portfolio had brought him the spotlight at tonight’s grand gathering of Hong Kong’s elites, giving him a sense of prominence that even the Chief Executive or former Governors couldn’t achieve.

Faced with the American’s suggestions, Lin Baixin replied with a wry smile:

“Mr. Blackburn, your suggestions are extremely insightful, even visionary. But as you’ve pointed out, the Hong Kong market is very small.”

“To expand ATV’s influence into Southeast Asia, Japan, Korea, or even the Asian diaspora in North America would require an enormous amount of money.”

“And I, first of all, don’t have that kind of money. Secondly, even if I did, the return on investment would discourage me. I could use that money in more lucrative ventures that would yield far greater profits than television.”

“So, ATV can only remain ATV.”

This was Lin Baixin’s honest truth.

Even if he could find the billions the American suggested, there was no guarantee those billions would bring profit.

Besides, the media and entertainment industry inherently had a narrow market. Even Japan, the best in the region, had its limits.

If Lin truly had that kind of money, he’d rather invest in his main business or bid for more land to build more properties in Hong Kong.

Yes, in Hong Kong, no matter what industry you start in—be it plastic flowers, smuggling, shipping, or clothing like Lin—the ultimate big money always lies in real estate.

Hong Kong’s economy had become incredibly distorted, driven almost entirely by finance and real estate, with all other industries serving these two sectors.

“I see,” said Milo Blackburn, looking at the weary, aging businessman. Then he asked abruptly, “Lin, have you ever considered selling ATV?”

“Hmm?” Lin Baixin tilted his head, looking up at Milo. The American was incredibly tall, the tallest person at the party.

Not just in stature, but also in status.

“Sell it to me.”

Milo didn’t mince words. He had already approached Sir Run Run Shaw earlier, expressing his intention to buy TVB.

But the old man had refused outright.

Having sold off most of Shaw Brothers’ film assets, the only thing Shaw was still passionate about before his passing was his television empire.

They’re not short on money, so buying Run Run Shaw’s TVB is practically impossible.

Only then did Milo settle for second best and approach Lin Baixin to purchase the perennial runner-up, ATV (Asia Television).

“What do you mean?” Lin Baixin was surprised. He hadn’t expected that after all the buildup from this American, it would lead to wanting to buy ATV.

“Exactly as I said,” Milo replied. “Sell me ATV. Once it becomes part of Paladin Media, it can achieve everything I just described. As its former owner, I imagine you’d be happy to see ATV truly live up to its name as a major Asian television station.”

Milo wasn’t someone who wasted time—he wouldn’t seek out both Run Run Shaw and Lin Baixin just for fun.

Sentimentality might be a factor, but he was a man who valued profit above all.

He would only indulge sentimentality when his interests were safeguarded.

Alternatively, if the cost was minor, he’d occasionally splurge for the sake of his nostalgia.

“Are you serious?” Lin Baixin’s mind raced.

“Of course,” Milo said with a smile. “As you know, I’m in the media business. I’ve been looking for an opportunity to enter the Southeast Asian market. ATV is a decent entry point, but no more than that. Name your price, Lin.”

Too straightforward.

Lin Baixin thought to himself. He truly hadn’t seen this coming.

The main reason was that Milo had earlier approached Run Run Shaw and seemed to have a great time chatting with those entertainment industry stars.

That led Lin Baixin to believe Milo just wanted to connect with Hong Kong’s film industry.

He hadn’t expected Milo to directly approach him to buy ATV.

Lin Baixin could even guess what had happened: this American had likely approached Run Run Shaw first.

But knowing Shaw, he probably refused outright.

So, should he sell?

Between 1989 and 1992, Lin Baixin spent nearly HKD 350 million to acquire a 90% controlling interest in ATV, including its channels Home and International.

After years of management, factoring in investments and returns, Lin Baixin estimated about HKD 200 million in costs were still unrecovered.

If he did decide to sell, how much should he ask for?

Looking at the foreigner in front of him, Lin Baixin thought of his status as the world’s richest man.

Forbes reported that Milo had increased his wealth by $120 billion, roughly equivalent to HKD 800 billion.

Over a hundred times his own fortune!

With someone this wealthy, how could he not take a big bite?

As these thoughts crossed his mind and Lin Baixin prepared to speak, the foreigner interrupted again.

“By the way, Lin, I recall that a significant portion of your business portfolio involves garment trading and manufacturing. And most of your exports go to North America, right? Let me tell you—I have some friends in the commerce departments of Canada and the U.S.”

Milo leaned in, his tone casual but calculated.

“If we become friends, I think my friends might be able to help with your business.

“For instance… raising your quota allocations by 5% or so.”

“I don’t think that would be too difficult for them.”

Lin Baixin’s heart skipped a beat.

If Milo was telling the truth…

Although Lai Sun Group’s most profitable sector was local real estate, their garment production and export business still accounted for a substantial share. It also served as a key foundation for the stock market performance of several listed subsidiaries.

From the 1970s onward, Western countries, led by the U.S., had imposed quotas on Hong Kong’s textile industry.

Each year, only a limited volume of imports was permitted.

This quota system had been the primary cause of the textile industry’s collapse in Hong Kong.

What Milo offered, though phrased as “helping out,” was an increase in Lai Sun Group’s quotas.

But if he could raise the quotas, it naturally meant he could also reduce them—or eliminate them altogether.

While the textile business wasn’t as profitable now, a significant reduction or removal of quotas would devastate Lin’s listed companies.

Their stock prices would plummet, taking the Lin family’s influence and status in Hong Kong down with them.

Lin Baixin wasn’t foolish. Milo’s words might sound like friendly assistance, but the crafty foreigner was clearly issuing a threat—one aimed at the Lin family’s very foundation.

Even though real estate was their main moneymaker, the family’s wealth and social standing depended on the valuation of their listed companies.

If those companies collapsed, so would the Lin family’s power and influence.

Realizing this, Lin Baixin felt a pang of regret.

Sure, he could try to gouge the foreigner for a higher price.

But Milo’s retaliation would be devastating.

Forcing a smile, Lin Baixin said, “That’s wonderful. Thank you so much, Mr. Blackburn.”

“Haha, I just love making friends,” Milo replied, grinning.

“Mr. Blackburn, how about this…”

After careful thought, Lin Baixin proposed an idea.

“Why don’t you visit my television station tomorrow or whenever you’re free? That way, we’ll both gain a better understanding of its value.

“Then we can discuss the price. How does that sound?”

Milo considered briefly before agreeing. “Sure.”

He wasn’t dead set on buying ATV, or the current Home TV, for that matter.

Besides a hint of nostalgia, Milo’s primary motivation was to give Paladin Media a foothold in East Asia.

This approach was not unique among Western media tycoons.

In fact, Rupert Murdoch had been pursuing a similar strategy for years.

In 1993, Murdoch spent hundreds of millions of dollars acquiring Star TV from the Li family, intending to use it as a springboard into the Chinese television market.

But Murdoch soon discovered he had been played.

Star TV’s business couldn’t gain traction, and his attempt to enter the market failed.

However, he did not become discouraged. The massive market of over a billion people in mainland China was simply too tempting.

A few years later, the Australians tried again to collaborate with local television stations in mainland China.

This time, they partnered with a relatively obscure and unremarkable station, Haiqing Satellite TV.

But it wasn’t long before they crossed a red line and were forced to stop, leaving behind a pile of bad debts.

It wasn’t until 2010 that News Corporation finally sold off its three TV channels, including STAR TV.

With that, they completely abandoned their ambitions to enter the mainland market.

So, if even Rupert Murdoch couldn’t pull it off, can Milo succeed?

Milo himself thinks there’s a high probability of failure.

So his plan is straightforward.

That is, to secure partnerships with TVB or Asia Television. If that doesn’t work, he’ll establish a TV station in Taiwan.

Using this platform as a stepping stone, he aims to create top-tier content that caters to all of East Asia, Southeast Asia, and even the entire Asian continent.

Leveraging Hollywood resources and the United States’ strong global influence, Milo hopes this platform can indirectly shape public opinion across Asia.

He doesn’t intend to directly enter the mainland market but instead plans to build an Asian entertainment ecosystem surrounding the mainland.

As long as there’s demand in mainland China for high-quality entertainment content and as long as mainland entertainers aspire to go international,

they’ll have to align themselves with him.

Meanwhile, by maintaining a friendly attitude and adhering to his so-called neutral stance,

even if he can’t directly enter the mainland,

Milo believes he can still indirectly influence a portion of public opinion in the mainland through the entertainment networks encircling it.

Isn’t this approach much better than Murdoch’s loud, high-profile entry, followed by a quiet, stealthy return, only to be completely shut out in the end?

“I won’t step into your house; I’ll just put on a show outside your door.”

“And this show will be better than yours—more engaging, more appealing. Will you watch it or not?”

“Even if you don’t, your family members will probably want to watch it.”

Human nature is to pursue beauty, even if that beauty is an illusion carefully crafted.

This is Milo’s curveball strategy for Paladin Media to enter the mainland market—this traditional no-go zone for Western media.

It might not succeed.

But if it does, at the very least, Paladin Media’s valuation could rise by 20%.

It would also expand Milo’s intangible influence over public opinion.

And along the way, he’d get to indulge in his passion for this region.

Why not go for it?

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 273: A Show with Over Twenty Women*

Wan Qiwen felt anxious, unsure why her top boss, Lin Baixin, had summoned her to his home today through the television station.

Back in 1989, although she was a favorite to win the Miss Asia pageant, she only managed to secure the runner-up position. Nevertheless, the Asia Television (ATV) network signed her and immediately started promoting her career.

She made her acting debut that same year in the film The Big Boss Driver and later starred in notable productions like The Cello and the Bullet, King of Gamblers, and Pearl Flag of Justice and Loyalty, establishing herself as a leading actress in Hong Kong's entertainment scene. She was hailed as "ATV's Top Star," appearing in numerous flagship series and becoming a key figure for the network. Even when ATV entered Lin Baixin's era, her status remained unshaken.

Now, being invited to the home of such a powerful figure left her both thrilled and confused.

She recalled how, in the early years, Lin Baixin had shown considerable interest in ATV’s operations, often personally handling business matters at the station. But in recent years, he seemed to adopt a more hands-off approach.

So why had he called her to his house today?

Wan Qiwen couldn't help but speculate nervously. Could it be that her elderly boss, who was now in his nineties, had certain intentions? Surely not...right?

Still, the thought lingered. If she managed to win Lin Baixin's favor, her position at ATV would undoubtedly become more secure.

After all, last year's Miss Asia pageant had introduced several promising new talents, and Wan Qiwen felt the pressure mounting from her younger colleagues.

One notable rival was Kristy Yang.

A graduate of a prestigious Canadian university, Kristy had returned to Hong Kong to compete in a beauty pageant and pursue acting. Wan Qiwen couldn’t understand why.

"Ugh..." She sighed.

Determined to protect her status at ATV—or perhaps even advance her career—Wan Qiwen arrived at Lin Baixin’s home, her heart filled with trepidation.

However, upon arrival, Lin Baixin was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, the household staff bustled about, tending to various tasks, leaving Wan Qiwen feeling awkward as she sat on the sofa.

To her surprise, one of her strongest new rivals, Kristy Yang, was also ushered in by the servants.

“Kristy? Why are you here?” Wan Qiwen exclaimed in surprise.

Kristy Yang, whose English name was Kristy, remained polite and composed. Hong Kong locals often used English names in casual interactions, though Wan Qiwen was an exception. Her English name was long and somewhat gender-neutral, so most colleagues simply called her “Sister Wan” or “Sister Man.”

“Good afternoon, Sister Man,” Kristy greeted respectfully, showing no surprise at seeing her there. “The station said the big boss invited me over and mentioned you were already here.”

Hearing this, Wan Qiwen felt a pang of unease.

Could it be that the boss was about to lay his cards on the table? Had he summoned them both to announce that Kristy would soon take her place as the face of ATV?

If that were the case, Wan Qiwen thought bitterly, she wouldn’t stick around. She’d rather leave ATV than watch someone else take her spot.

But then, the prospect of the hefty breach-of-contract fees and the cold reception she might face at TVB made her feel utterly conflicted.

“Did they tell you why we’re here? I wasn’t given any details—just told to come over,” Wan Qiwen said, trying to mask her nerves.

Kristy shook her head.

And then, the two ATV stars—one a seasoned veteran, the other a rising newcomer—watched as another guest was led into the room.

This time, it wasn’t an ATV star but former TVB leading actress Chingmy Yau, now a prominent figure in Hong Kong’s entertainment industry.

Neither Kristy nor Wan Qiwen was personally acquainted with Chingmy, but sharing the same space made small talk inevitable.

Wan Qiwen, being more outgoing and having been in the industry longer, took the lead in introducing herself and Kristy. Chingmy seemed just as surprised to see the two ATV stars there.

However, their pleasantries were quickly interrupted as more and more women were escorted into the living room by Lin Baixin’s staff.

Familiar faces from ATV, TVB, and the Hong Kong film industry began to fill the room. Among them were TVB actresses Tavia Yeung, Charmaine Sheh, Anne Heung, and Sonija Kwok, as well as Hong Kong movie stars like Michelle Reis and Sheren Tang.

The room was soon packed with over twenty women, ranging from seasoned veterans to fresh-faced newcomers. Even Wan Qiwen, with her years of experience, was dumbfounded.

At first, she had thought Lin Baixin might be interested in her. Then, when Kristy arrived, she speculated he might be overstepping his bounds.

But now? With this many women—from top-tier stars like Michelle Reis to emerging talents like Kristy Yang—she had no idea what was going on.

The spacious living room was suddenly abuzz with chatter.

Over twenty of Hong Kong’s most beautiful and cunning women, all gathered in one place, each with her own ambitions and suspicions.

And yet, the host remained absent. Neither Lin Baixin nor his two sons made an appearance, leaving everyone puzzled.

As the minutes turned into over an hour, the room became a stage for a real-life drama, filled with subtle power plays, rivalries, and whispered conversations—a scene reminiscent of a palace intrigue drama.

It was almost 12:30 PM.

The women, who had been enthusiastically playing scheming games, suddenly fell silent.

Everyone could see Lin Baixin being escorted into the living room by his two sons and a group of attendants.

Wan Qiwen and the others quickly stood up and greeted him politely: "Good afternoon, Mr. Lin..."

Although Lin Baixin wasn’t highly regarded among the top tycoons in Hong Kong, that was only in comparison to the elites of all industries in the region.

In the small pond of Hong Kong’s entertainment industry, however, Lin Baixin was a towering giant.

Especially now that Lee Wong Kwa had already sold his stake in Star TV, Lin Baixin was undoubtedly the wealthiest figure in the entertainment circle.

Though his sole investment in the entertainment industry was ATV, neither Sir Run Run Shaw nor Raymond Chow combined could match his wealth.

This cemented his status.

However, much like other distinguished tycoons, Lin Baixin generally looked down on actors and performers, whom they considered beneath them.

Even the artists from his own ATV network rarely received his acknowledgment, let alone entertainers from outside.

So, when faced with such a powerful figure, the women were naturally deferential.

"Please, have a seat," Lin Baixin said with a smile, gesturing for everyone to sit.

However, the room wasn’t large enough; at most, it could seat around a dozen people.

Now, with over twenty beautiful women present, some had to remain standing.

At this moment, certain individuals’ ambitions became apparent—proving that success was no accident.

Take, for example, Li Jiaxin, who had recently broken up with a wealthy businessman.

This stunning beauty deliberately squeezed into a seat close to Lin Baixin, pushing Shi Siman out of her spot.

Shi Siman, though visibly upset, dared not complain.

Li Jiaxin’s actions were so blatant that even Lin Baixin noticed.

Unfazed, Li Jiaxin greeted him softly, "Good afternoon, Mr. Lin."

Lin Baixin, seated upright, turned to glance at her. After sizing her up, he smiled meaningfully and said, "You are indeed exquisitely beautiful. No wonder you're so popular."

"You're too kind, Mr. Lin," Li Jiaxin replied coquettishly, though she privately believed herself to be the most beautiful among them.

Still, she knew to remain modest—especially since she had no idea why Lin Baixin had summoned them here.

Over twenty women—all celebrities.

Could it be that ATV had a major announcement to make?

But even so, why invite so many female stars, and such a diverse mix?

There were big names like Qiu Shuzhen and Guan Jiawei, mid-tier stars like herself, and even Miss Hong Kong contestant Shi Siman, whom Li Jiaxin found unworthy of the title.

Having also been crowned Miss Hong Kong, Li Jiaxin intentionally targeted Shi Siman to make an impression on Lin Baixin—whether good or bad.

However, Lin Baixin merely nodded noncommittally at her before turning his attention to ATV’s two rising stars, Yang Gongru and Wan Qiwen.

He addressed Wan Qiwen directly: "I’ve heard you’re dating the son of the Wen family. He picks you up in a luxury car after work, doesn’t he?"

Wan Qiwen’s heart skipped a beat, and she quickly explained, "I’ve told him not to come, but he doesn’t listen... I haven’t accepted anything from him."

Both ATV and TVB kept a tight leash on the personal lives of their leading ladies.

In this era, female celebrities—especially those acting in TV dramas—risked ruining their careers if their romantic relationships became public.

Movie stars like Li Jiaxin faced less scrutiny, but the rules were still strict.

Lin Baixin gave Wan Qiwen a cold glance and said, "That kid changes girlfriends every year or two. Do you think you’re special?"

"Mr. Lin, I really haven’t... I haven’t accepted him at all," Wan Qiwen stammered.

Lin Baixin waved dismissively. "I was just asking. I only care because you’re with ATV; otherwise, I wouldn’t bother."

He then addressed the room: "The reason I invited you all here today is simple. I want to ask you one question—"

"Do you want to be famous?"

The room fell silent. The women exchanged glances, unsure how to respond.

Still, many thought the same thing: Of course! Who wouldn’t want to be famous?  

Who wouldn’t dream of becoming a star like Anita Mui or Brigitte Lin?

At the very least, they aspired to reach the level of Guan Jiawei.

And if nothing else, even Li Jiaxin’s career would be enviable.

After all, who enters the entertainment industry without the desire to rise to fame?

At this, Guan Jiawei chuckled.

At 35 years old, she had been in the industry for a long time.

She debuted at 19 but didn’t achieve true fame until she was 30, when her role as Aunt Thirteen in the Once Upon a Time in China series finally established her reputation in Hong Kong’s entertainment scene.

Before that, she was essentially another version of Li Jiaxin—a pretty face without much recognition.

Jiaxin Li is like Jia Hui Guan 2.0—both are just pretty faces.

At 35 years old, Jia Hui Guan still maintains a stunning beauty.

Her skin is fair and delicate, her facial features are exquisitely sculpted, and her brows radiate the grace and elegance of a mature woman.

Every gesture exudes calmness and confidence, as if time has only added charm and allure to her presence, leaving everyone captivated.

Based solely on her appearance, she is undeniably a true beauty.

When she filmed the entire Once Upon a Time in China, she didn’t even wear makeup—just a touch of lipstick!

And that was three or four years ago.

Now, as the most prominent actress at the gathering, Jia Hui Guan spoke up:

“Mr. Lin, is there anyone in this industry who doesn’t want to be famous? It’s the same for men and women. Even if we can’t become the next Zhou Xun or Maggie Cheung, we still want to be big stars.”

Lin Baixin silently acknowledged her words as representative of all the actresses present.

“Since everyone wants fame, I’m giving you all an opportunity right now,” Lin Baixin said.

“If you seize it, you’ll become famous overnight—so famous that no one in all of Hong Kong can match your popularity.”

Everyone listened in confusion, not understanding his meaning.

Then Lin Baixin saw his butler rushing over. He immediately stood up, along with his two sons.

“They’re here?”

“Yes, sir. They’ve arrived!”

“Let’s go, let’s go! No time for explanations. What happens next depends on your luck. Follow me and let’s welcome them.”

Lin Baixin’s words were directed at all the actresses.

Wan Qiwen followed the crowd hesitantly, walking to the mansion’s entrance.

There, outside Lin Baixin’s luxurious villa on the mid-levels, it looked like a traffic jam.

Cars kept arriving, one after another, with a crowd of people stepping out of them.

They were all tall, burly men dressed in black suits, giving off an imposing aura.

These men didn’t waste any time after getting out; they immediately spread out to inspect Lin Baixin’s estate.

“Dad, this is too much. Don’t they trust us?”

Despite being informed in advance, one of Lin Baixin’s sons, Lin Jianming, couldn’t help but complain when he saw the Americans’ security team double-checking their home’s safety before their guest even stepped out.

“Well, it’s a big shot—it’s normal,” Lin Jianyue, the younger son, said. “He’s worth eight or nine hundred billion Hong Kong dollars. If I were that rich, I’d worry about my safety even more.”

Lin Baixin kept a smile on his face and scolded his sons,

“Both of you, keep your mouths shut later. Just smile, you hear me? Serve this American guest well, and even Lee Cucumber and the others will be lining up to visit us in the future!”

Meanwhile, the actresses were a mix of nervous, surprised, curious, and confused.

Ten minutes later, a gigantic black car, the likes of which had never been seen in Hong Kong, finally drove in.

Wan Qiwen looked at it and thought, What a massive car!  

Once the vehicle stopped, two tall white men stepped out first.

They scanned the surroundings before speaking to someone inside the car.

Then, the man who stepped out next made Wan Qiwen’s eyes widen in surprise.

He was a tall foreigner—so handsome, so imposing.

And with such an extravagant entourage, who was this? A Hollywood superstar?

Wan Qiwen and the others then saw Lin Baixin, who had been so dignified and indifferent before, suddenly act like a palace eunuch meeting the emperor.

Despite being nearly 90 years old, he moved swiftly, his face lighting up with a fawning smile as he rushed forward to shake the man’s hand:

“Mr. Blackburn, welcome, welcome! It’s an honor to have you at my humble home!”

Milo instinctively shook his hand but couldn’t help glancing behind the old man at the group of 20-some women.

What’s going on? So many beauties, all dressed up and looking stunning.

At a glance, he immediately recognized the likes of Jia Hui Guan, Jiaxin Li, and Shuzhen Qiu among them.

Even the ones he didn’t know personally were all stunningly attractive.

After scanning the crowd of women, Milo shifted his gaze back to the enthusiastic old man.

Last night, I thought this guy was serious and proper.  

Nearly 90 years old, but here he is pulling something like this? Not bad at all.  

(Chapter Ends)