” Chapter 1 Part 6 Lydia the Empress and Her “Dog Trainer” My mother that day was as stunning as ever, dressed in a formal ladies’ suit.
That solid black suit might have looked dowdy on other women, but on her it was different.
Her elegant oval face was like a finely carved work of art.
At 1.73 meters tall, with five‑ or six‑centimeter pointed high heels, she was nearly the same height as me, her 1.80‑meter‑tall son.
That staid, formal suit was stretched tight over her voluptuous figure, accentuating her curves front and back.
Paired with a pair of shapely, slender legs that could rival those of my delicate‑legged wife, she only needed to stand there, her originally charming peach‑blossom eyes narrowing slightly, and an indescribable noble dignity emanated from her.
My mother’s cold gaze fell on the aggressive Hilda like that of a high‑and‑mighty empress casually glancing at a lowly servant.
Just the sound of her voice, filled with irresistible authority, instantly deflated the shrew who minutes earlier had been so fierce.
My mother’s name was almost a perfect reflection of her true self: “As clouds think of clothes and flowers think of looks, the spring breeze brushes the threshold, and dew becomes radiant.” Beautiful and dignified, noble and imposing.
If she were to wear a dragon robe and a phoenix crown, she would look like an empress stepping out from the river of history.
When my mother saw Hilda holding that thick, spiked club and heading toward Harry, her long willow‑leaf brows narrowed.
In her peach‑blossom eyes, there was extreme contempt.
Under her straight nose, her red lips let out a single syllable.
“Drop it.” That day I saw my mother wrapped in that black ladies’ suit, her full figure contained within.
Beneath the small jacket was a pristine white blouse, stretched tight by her huge G‑cup breasts, the buttons bulging dangerously, forming a breath‑taking curve.
I even worried that the buttons might pop off with her breathing.
Below the hem of the skirt, three or four centimeters above her knees, a pair of sexy black‑stockinged legs in black, square‑toed low heels stepped forward with dignified authority, blocking Hilda’s path.
My mother said nothing more, simply looking down at the short, fat woman with contempt.
My mother’s peach‑blossom eyes narrowed slightly, and under her icy gaze, all of Hilda’s earlier bluster vanished.
She could no longer hold onto the spiked club in her hand, and it clattered to the ground.
She herself was left awkwardly frozen there, unable to move forward or backward.
“Wesley, doesn’t it feel like your mom has an emperor’s aura?” Diana’s slender fingers scratched my palm.
I turned and saw her cold, pretty face give me a sweet smile, her white dress making her look like an angel.
I coughed lightly.
“Don’t talk nonsense.” Looking at the two women standing together one beautiful and one ugly only made my mother’s noble presence stand out even more.
Still, I had underestimated Hilda’s shamelessness.
“So what if you’re the deputy Party secretary for political and legal affairs?
Today your horny mutt ruined my baby.
I won’t settle for less than two million!” Even standing on tiptoe, the barely‑1.5‑meter Hilda’s head could only reach my mother’s chest.
With her short, thick neck stubbornly stretched, she looked utterly ridiculous.
Hearing her lion‑like demand, my mother frowned slightly and was about to speak when “Fuck!
A shrew, and we’ve been too polite to you.” Suddenly a large foot in a size‑45 basketball shoe shot out from the side and kicked Hilda hard, sending her rolling across the ground.
The short, fat shrew tumbled a few times before scrambling up.
Just as she opened her mouth to curse, she saw the fierce expression on Nick’s sharp‑featured black face and instantly fell silent, scurrying away to one side.
“And you are?” My mother’s beautiful brows knitted slightly as she looked at the suddenly appearing black youth.
He was almost two meters tall, and my mother had to tilt her head back slightly to look at his somewhat familiar dark face, her elegant oval features full of doubt.
Nick, though black, did not have the typical coarse, wild look of many black men.
His sharply defined, three‑dimensional features, combined with years of education, had given his face a scholarly air, somewhat reminiscent of former U.S.
president Obama.
“Aunt Lydia, it’s me, Nick!” Seeing that my mother had not recognized him at first glance, Nick scratched his head and smiled bashfully.
That youthful, sunny expression made it impossible for anyone meeting him for the first time to dislike him, especially considering he was the adopted son of my mother’s best friend and my mother‑in‑law, Helen Ye.
When my mother heard him introduce himself, her peach‑blossom eyes lit up and the solemnity on her face vanished, replaced by a gentle smile as warm as a spring breeze.
“Nick, you’ve grown so tall in just a few years!
And more muscular too!” My mother, 1.73 meters tall and wearing five‑centimeter heels, still had to rise slightly on tiptoe to reach Nick’s neatly cut buzz cut.
Her sudden “head‑pat kill” made Nick blush with embarrassment, his boyish grin seeming particularly sincere.
“Aunt Lydia, you really haven’t changed at all.
You’re just as beautiful as ever.” “I showed my American classmates photos of you and my mom.
They all say you’re the empress of China.” I had to admit that this black bastard Nick was frighteningly clever.
His seemingly simple praise hit my mother’s weak spot perfectly.
There isn’t a woman alive who doesn’t enjoy being called beautiful, and my mother’s proudest achievement was becoming the third‑in‑command of Handong, a quasi‑first‑tier city, before even turning fifty.
As long as nothing went wrong, her future prospects were limitless.
My mother rolled her peach‑blossom eyes at Nick in mock annoyance, her gaze full of charm.
“Nick, what nonsense.
What empress?
I’m just an ordinary civil servant.
But with a mouth like yours, I bet you’ve fooled more than a few American girls.” “No, no, I haven’t even had a girlfriend yet.
I don’t have any hobbies besides training dogs.” At the time, the sincerity on Nick’s face fooled everyone present; no one realized his words carried another meaning.
At the mention of training dogs, everyone’s eyes turned again toward Harry, who was still hard at work.
My mother glared angrily at the horny mutt.
“Nick, do you have a way to cure Harry of his bad habits?”