Chapter 27: 'Dongpo Pork' at the Banquet

Socialites from different countries with various skin tones were present, as well as the melodious sound of piano. When the lights in the resplendent "Eve Hotel" ballroom were lit, the "Knights," who were no less impressive than the young ladies, also made their entrance. Among the young ladies, some brought male companions like Wen Maixue, while others timidly extended their hands upon receiving an invitation from a male guest they fancied, as per the event’s arrangement. As Sister Mu had suggested, Wen Maixue styled her hair in an updo with twisted flowers. Unlike Su Ziceng, who wore a dazzling diamond ring, she chose natural black pearl earrings and a necklace. The smooth sea pearls complemented her Asian skin, making it appear as pure and translucent as immaculate snow. Her cheongsam, modified and tailored by Dior’s chief designer, blended a Western-style V-neck with black fabric and Eastern-style gold phoenix embroidery. At the chest, clusters of peony embroideries splayed out like golden petals. Though it didn’t have the bright vibrancy of Su Zizhen, it possessed a generous amount of understated elegance, enhanced by a white mink shawl draped over her shoulders. The two beauties of Mo City, one cool, the other fiery, stood like glaciers and lava at opposite ends of the dance floor. For the first time in such a formal setting, they clearly saw each other. Wen Maixue politely raised her glass—a smile at her lips quickly concealed by a sip of champagne. After having attracted all eyes upon entering, Su Ziceng found herself isolated in a corner due to the language barrier, accompanied only by a temporary translator. Everyone else in the room was conversing smoothly, clearly accustomed to such social events. Soon, Su Ziceng noticed someone else who, just like her, seemed out of place in the ballroom’s atmosphere. She caught a similarly uneasy gaze. Tonight, Su Ziceng was a "flower on the wall," elaborately adorned. Though silent, her long black hair, flawless fair skin, and the upturned corners of her phoenix eyes became the subject of discussions among many male guests who were intrigued by the mysterious Eastern beauty. However, the owner of that anxious gaze she noticed was clearly underdressed and awkward in both attire and demeanor. Self-aware, Su Ziceng chose a corner to quietly savor her champagne, knowing her conversational limitations and average dancing skills. But that odd, lonesome "Knight" clearly didn’t understand the etiquette. Firstly, his standing spot was right next to a floor fountain in the venue. The statue of the god Apollo above the fountain faced the "knight's" rotund belly. The statue of Apollo was purely white, while this overly "plump" knight, bursting at his last two coat buttons, was also dressed in white—white trousers, a white suit, and a white pair of leather shoes. Only two things on him were black: his hair and his socks. His presence was like a chunk of fatty pork sitting incongruously in the middle of a table set with exquisite vegetarian dishes. "Be he Sakura Man or Korean, as long as he’s not from the country of Z," mumbled Su Ziceng. Among the attendees, only a few had black hair, yellow skin, and black eyes. She wondered how this "Knight," who seemed unqualified even to be a doorman at the "Eve" hall, got in. Every guest at the "Eve Ball" was assigned a number. The plump knight without a female partner also had a number hanging on his chest, 20. Su Ziceng shivered slightly. Her last adult ball was spent with Hang Yishao. The tailcoat suit on Hang Yishao and his unusual concessions were precious memories from her past life. Although the ball ended on a sour note because of Chang Chi, the one holding her hand then was her beloved Hang Yishao. "The dance partners aren’t assigned by number, are they?" Su Ziceng worriedly pulled over the translator and asked, "And how did that fat man get in here?" There were many who harbored this question, particularly several young ladies from Northern Europe and North America, who all stood at least a head taller than the eyesore "fat knight" standing beside the fountain. "Why is he here?" Wen Maixue pouted. She had dressed as an icy beauty today, so her smiles were kept to the barest minimum. "Qiu Zhi." Unfortunately, this rotund gentleman, like Su Ziceng and Wen Maixue, hailed from Country Z. But unlike Su Ziceng, his English was very fluent; hence, he did not require the company of an ad hoc translator. However, his courage was unusually small; once inside, his few movements were solely confined to twisting his neck, peering at Wen Maixue in what he believed to be the least conspicuous manner possible. At a consistent frequency of once every ten seconds, his overly frequent neck rotations turned his short, stout neck a bright red. Yet in his hand, he held a distinct orange-colored beverage—the sole party attendee allergic to alcohol. "He’s from Country Z!" Su Ziceng’s initial disdain was quickly dissolved by the thick blood ties among the descendants of Yan and Huang. "Also, is he 'stealing glances' at Wen Maixue?" The relentless swiveling of his head back and forth, much like a pendulum, was unavoidably noticeable. In the course of repeatedly scrutinizing the crowd, Su Ziceng took note of the familiar yet foreign man next to Wen Maixue. Pello was donned in an Armani suit that matched Wen Maixue’s black cheongsam. The smoothly tailored suit, the perfect proportions, and that face... one that you couldn’t bear to look at a second time, an obvious clone of the Apollo statue above the fountain. The white-clad "Fake Knight" looked downright pitiful compared to him. "Poor fatty," Su Ziceng pitied Qiu Zhi as he gulped down his fifth glass of juice, moaning, "Would someone kind-hearted please remind him that he's dripped juice onto his collar?" The violin music ceased, and "Lady Eve," dressed in regal attire, stood upon the hall’s balcony. Adorned in a 15th-century European noblewoman’s garb, she was an elderly Western lady, aged yet elegant. Lady Eve’s opening remarks were brief but powerful, and after expressing her gratitude to all the guests in attendance, she hoisted her glass and chimed the stem, "Young ladies and gentlemen, tonight is your festival. Let us revel in this unmatched feast to our heart’s content." The deep cello, the resonant orchestral harmony, was like a symphony flowing from Vienna’s Golden Hall, immensely grand. Following her words, the dance music in the hall also commenced. In front of Wen Maixue, Pello performed a proper bow and led her onto the dance floor, and they unreservedly claimed the honor of the first dance of the eve. Afterward, pairs of equally splendid young men and women also successively glided into the dance pool, and the numbers on the dance floor dwindled. It seemed that dancing was inevitable. Su Ziceng was in a bit of a bind; she couldn’t possibly drag her forty-something interpreter onto the dance floor. Better to make the first move, or else she would only be left with the clumsy fat knight as an option. She absolutely could not let her eighteenth birthday ball be sabotaged under the weighty hooves of a fat knight. Without further regard for language barriers, Su Ziceng eyed a red-headed, freckled male guest nearby and charged towards him.