CHAPTER 1476: THE OPENING OF THE EXHIBITION II

Lory observed the exhibition from the third floor, her gaze fixed on Zhao Li Xin below. He stood beside Hugo and Edmund, greeting the distinguished guests. Well—to be exact—it was Hugo and Edmund who handled the conversation, while Zhao Li Xin merely stood there like a flawless, untouchable mannequin.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. For Zhao Li Xin, crowds and noise were the things he despised most. It was one of the reason why he choose to pretend as the "dying prince" for very long time.

Zhao Li Xin had never found ease in the company of others. Their hollow smiles and petty intrigues were little more than a stale puppet show, endlessly repeated.

He loathed being disturbed so much that he would rather endure mockery and scorn than allow anyone to intrude upon his solitude. But here he was, deliberately stepping into the public eye.

And it actually worse because in his world there are no camera or social media, no press or influencer that would report every single thing he do. It was so bad even her who grew in that enviroment avoid it as much as she can.

But Zhao Li Xin accepted it knowing a certain reputation needed to marry the princess of royal family like her, though they would be no resustance from the royal household but still people from other country would nitpicking him.

To ensure no stain touched Lory’s name, he chose the guise of a mere painter, a profession that offered recognition yet drew little scrutiny.

It was an identity praised by the masses and dismissed by the powerful, celebrated enough to stand out, harmless enough to be ignored.

Such a thoughtful, loyal, and loving husband. Where else could she find an exceptional man like him? Well, not in this world, cause she had to go to another world to find him.

Lory’s eyes clung to him as the tide of guests swirled and shifted around his figure. It didn’t take long before she noticed the way many women couldn’t stop staring at Zhao Li Xin, their faces filled with awe and admiration.

Some even dared to step closer, clearly hoping to strike up a conversation with the aloof genius. For a split second, Lory nearly vaulted over the railing of the third floor to intercept them.

But then, as always, Zhao Li Xin put her at ease. His replies were curt, his courtesy trimmed to the barest politeness, and his expression as flat as stone. Within moments, each bold attempt crumbled into an awkward silence, sending the women away with stiff smiles or cheeks burning red.

Lory pressed a hand to her chest, exhaling a long sigh of relief. Thank heavens for his cold, unapproachable nature; most women simply couldn’t stand it for long.

Still, she narrowed her eyes warily. One could never be too careful. There was always the chance of that one crazy woman who might think his frosty attitude was part of the charm.

At that moment, Lory completely forgot her original intention of observing the guests’ movements. Instead, her gaze locked onto Zhao Li Xin like a hawk, following every flicker of attention that drifted toward him.

Unnable to gain Zhao Li xin attention with conversatiom, some women start flaunted their curves and paraded their dazzling dresses around her husband, each clearly hoping to catch his eye.

Lory nail trace the pillar, her expression turned as black as charchoal.

"Oh, the air conditioning is too cold, don’t you think?" one guest muttered, rubbing his arms and glaring up at the vent.

"Let’s ask the staff to turn it down," another agreed quickly.

"I think I’ll fetch my coat," a woman added with a shiver.

"Same here!" someone chimed in, and soon a handful of guests hurried off to the cloakroom.

Zhao Li Xin tilted his head ever so slightly toward the third floor. The faintest tug curved his lips. Knowing who the perpetratoris who caused all of this.

Honestly, he couldn’t stand those women buzzing around him either. Their perfume assaulted his senses, and their dresses dirtied his eyes.

Most of all, he can’t stand their makeup. He almost taken a step back when he saw their hollow face, with dark eyes, and what shocked him more is their thick lips,it was so thick it’s like a pair of fat leech join together.

Is such makeup really necessary?

He barely able to hide his disgust, when Lory suddenly intervened. What a luck, without her, he might have lost his patience and said something he shouldn’t say to all those woman, like: ’Scram.’

Zhao Li Xin released a quiet sigh, his steps carrying him toward one of the paintings as though the canvas itself offered sanctuary.

It was a measured retreat, a graceful way to set distance between himself and the throng. Solitude had always been his element; reclusive by instinct, he bore little tolerance for the clamor of strangers.

The only thing that made his situation bearable was knowing Lory was not far from him, her gaze fixed on him with quiet intensity. That thought alone lent him comfort enough to endure, giving him the strength to continue through the suffocating rituals of the evening.

Suddenly, a stir rippled through the grand entrance. Murmurs rose, followed by the sharp staccato of heels against marble. A group dressed in stark monochrome, black and white like living chess pieces, swept into the hall.

The crowd instinctively parted, leaving a clear path as the rapid-fire clicks of cameras echoed like distant thunder, flashes chasing their every step.

Leaning casually against a pillar, arms folded across her chest, Lory watched with a faintly amused smile.

"Well, well," she chuckled softly, her tone dripping with irony. "Fashionably late, huh."

A voice crackled in her earpiece—Fargo’s low, steady murmur.

"Do you see them, Lory?"

"Uh-huh," she replied without shifting her gaze.

Her eyes narrowed, focusing on the young blonde woman who smiled shyly under the barrage of attention. Alinna’s knee-length white satin dress gleamed under the chandeliers, its delicate lace appliqués and cap sleeves framing her youthful frame with an elegance almost too mature for her.

The fitted bodice shimmered with romantic detail, the skirt flowing gently with each step, a portrait of understated grace. But to Lory, the dress did not suit Alinna’s sweet and innocent look. She looked more like a little girl wearing her mother’s gown.

Lory then shifted her eyes on the man at Alinna’s side. Alexander Behrenn walked arm-in-arm with the so-called saintess, gazing down at her with doting warmth. To the crowd, he radiated the tenderness of a father figure, a protector.

Yet Lory’s eyes narrowed. She found it difficult to believe such affection could be genuine. A man as ambitious as Alexander Behrenn was unlikely to treat anyone with unguarded sincerity. Whether Alinna failed to see through the act, or knowingly played her part, remained uncertain.

Trailing behind them was Salvo De Rova, a study in suave refinement. His dark grey suit clung perfectly to his tall frame, the crisp white shirt beneath accentuating the sharpness of his presence.

His long blond hair was slicked neatly back, each strand disciplined into place. He carried himself with princely poise, drawing lingering glances and hushed whispers from the crowd. Unlike Zhao Li Xin’s untouchable aura, Salvo’s polished charm invited approach.

His bright, dazzling smile sent ripples of excitement through the hall, leaving young girls giggling and blushing in his presence.

Salvo suddenly felt a sharp gaze pierce his direction.

Instinctively, his eyes lifted, sweeping the second floor,but no one was there. For a brief moment, his attention shifted higher, lingering on the empty third floor.

A flicker of curiosity and caution passed through his eyes, his expression tightening ever so slightly. Then a voice nearby called his name, pulling him back. In an instant, the tension melted from his face, replaced by a dazzling, welcoming smile. His entire demeanor shifted, once again the picture of charm and effortless grace.

By the time Salvo’s eyes swept the upper levels, Lory had already shifted to another hidden vantage point. When she emerged again to resume her watch, a cool, knowing smile touched her lips. Her gaze lingered on Salvo, sharp with calculation as she muttered under her breath, her words edged with quiet precision.

"Sensitive... and cautious. Not bad." Lory’s smile deepened faintly as she unwrapped a lollipop with deliberate ease.

She popped it into her mouth, a casual gesture at odds with the sharp glint in her eyes as she continued to watch the scene unfolding below.

"How’s the situation, Lory?" Fargo’s voice called.

"Under control," she replied nonchalantly, pulling the lollipop from her mouth to smack her lips. "How’s Lucas?" she ask.

"Ready," Fargo said, his tone calm but tinged with restrained excitement.