An Feng called a premium car service to arrange a royal blue Bentley Mulsanne for their trip to Los Angeles.
His original plan had been to drive his sports car, but after thinking it over, he realized the journey was too long for that.
While a high-performance sports car was thrilling for a casual sprint, a formal charity gala demanded an entirely different level of comfort and class.
It would be a tragedy to arrive at a high-end social event with a stiff back and rumpled formal wear.
The rear passenger cabin of the Bentley was cavernous, offering enough legroom for a passenger to practically stretch out completely.
The plush leather seats featured advanced ventilation, heating, and active massage functions.
When they finally pulled into Los Angeles after a smooth two-hundred-kilometer drive, An Feng felt completely rejuvenated, with none of the physical fatigue that a low-slung supercar would have inflicted.
Jenny, however, was a bundle of nerves.
To soothe her anxiety, she talked continuously throughout the drive.
An Feng happily put his playful wit to work, digging deep into his vocabulary to shower her with creative compliments until she finally began to relax.
He selected a playlist of soothing, lyrical tracks on the rear entertainment screen, and Jenny leaned her head onto his shoulder, closing her eyes to rest.
By the time they reached the upscale star-rated hotel hosting the gala, evening had already fallen.
Jenny had successfully composed herself, channeling her leftover nervous energy into professional focus.
“I looked over the guest list earlier,” she murmured, smoothing her dress.
“The models attending tonight are top-tier, and there are even a few major actress appearances.
If I can just manage to chat with a couple of producers or directors for even a few minutes to make a memorable impression, it could completely change my odds at future auditions.” “Don’t stress, you’re going to do great,” An Feng said, gently kissing her forehead.
‘Honestly, I admire her drive, but I could never survive the Hollywood hustle,’ An Feng thought.
His own idea of a perfect career was to let a capable team handle all the grueling logistics while he focused strictly on enjoying the rewards of their labor.
The thought of constantly dodging aggressive paparazzi and maintaining a flawless, plastic smile under blinding flashbulbs sounded exhausting.
As the Bentley glided to a stop at the hotel entrance, a barrage of flashbulbs instantly illuminated the dark windows.
Even though this wasn’t an official red-carpet premiere, the local entertainment press possessed an incredibly keen scent for high-society events.
Photographers stood packed together behind the velvet ropes, their long-range lenses poised like heavy artillery to capture any high-profile arrivals.
“Alright, let’s show them what they’ve been missing,” An Feng said with a reassuring smile.
Two impeccably dressed hotel valets stepped forward to open the doors.
An Feng emerged first.
Tall and commanding in his tailored black tuxedo, he walked around the car and extended his hand toward Jenny with polished, gentlemanly grace.
Jenny accepted his hand with a radiant smile, slipping her arm confidently through his as they stepped onto the pavement.
Because the experienced Bentley driver had positioned the massive luxury car perfectly in the center of the drop-off zone, the photographers automatically assumed the arriving guests were prominent VIPs, sending the cameras into a chaotic frenzy.
An Feng paused for a brief, composed second to let them get their shots, then smoothly guided Jenny toward the hotel lobby.
‘I owe Joanna a massive thank you,’ An Feng mused internally.
When she was helping him refine his English, she had also drilled him on high-society etiquette, and the lessons were paying off flawlessly.
Yet, it was Jenny who truly stole the spotlight.
She was wearing an elegant, halterneck-style European gown that dipped low in the back, revealing her flawless, creamy skin.
Her long, dark hair was swept gracefully over one shoulder, and a dazzling diamond necklace caught the light beautifully against her collarbone.
An Feng had been utterly spellbound when she first stepped out of the dressing room.
Once she put her mind to it, her natural poise and stunning proportions could easily rival any seasoned A-lister walking the red carpet at a major film festival.
Their short journey from the entrance to the elevator felt like a mini-triumph.
Hollywood was, after all, a place that worshipped exceptional beauty, and Jenny possessed the exact kind of striking presence that demanded attention.
They rode the elevator to the top floor, where a white-gloved waiter verified An Feng’s invitation and led them into the grand banquet hall.
The top-floor venue featured a semi-open-air layout, with a formal dining area inside and a sprawling, beautifully lit cocktail lounge out on the terrace.
The hall was already buzzing with activity.
The men, dressed in their uniform black tuxedos, served as a simple backdrop to a breathtaking sea of color.
The women were adorned in spectacular designer gowns and exquisite jewelry.
Shimmering diamonds, rubies, and emeralds caught the light at every turn, draped over delicate wrists and framing elegant necklines.
An Feng took in the lavish scene, then leaned down to whisper in Jenny’s ear, “Alright, I finally get why you were nervous.
But trust me, you easily outclass everyone in this room.
Just look at some of those women—no curves whatsoever, yet they insist on wearing plunging necklines.
And some of those waistlines?
They really shouldn’t be showing off their backs.
None of them have your perfect proportions.” His playful, highly biased praise did the trick, bringing a confident, genuine smile back to Jenny’s face.
“Hey, Alex, my friend!
You finally made it!” a boisterous voice called out.
An Feng turned to see Roger approaching, accompanied by a striking, tall brunette.
Roger greeted him with a warm, enthusiastic hug before gesturing to his companion.
“Alex, meet Miranda.” “Pleasure to meet you, Miranda,” An Feng said, raising his hand for a handshake, but the friendly brunette bypassed his hand entirely to give him a warm, classic social hug.
“And this is my partner, Jenny,” An Feng introduced.
“Oh, Jenny, you look absolutely stunning!” Roger and Miranda took turns greeting her, with the two women exchanging elegant cheek-kisses.
“Miranda actually used to be a supermodel,” Roger explained to An Feng with a subtle wink.
“Now she’s a prominent fashion consultant and creative director, so she knows half of Hollywood.” ‘This guy’s speed is truly legendary,’ An Feng thought, highly amused.
‘Wasn’t he madly in love with a fiery Latin beauty just last week?
And now he’s casually walking around with a European supermodel.’ Jenny’s eyes went wide with genuine excitement.
“Miranda?
Oh my gosh, I absolutely know your work!” “Really?” Miranda smiled, looking pleased.
“Yes!
I read a feature on your latest creative spread in a major fashion magazine last month,” Jenny said.
“The visual styling and the conceptual direction were absolutely brilliant.” “Thank you so much,” Miranda beamed.
“I like the creative freedom of editorial work; it really keeps the inspiration flowing.” After exchanging a few more warm pleasantries, Miranda spotted an acquaintance across the room and playfully dragged Jenny along to introduce her, leaving the two men to chat.
“Well, Alex, there are quite a few prestigious jewelry collectors and investors here tonight,” Roger said, clapping him on the shoulder.
“You’ll fit right in.
Come on, let me introduce you around.” ‘I’m about as much of a jewelry collector as I am an astronaut,’ An Feng thought dryly, but because of Roger’s enthusiastic persistence, he followed him toward a group of sharply dressed gentlemen.
“Gentlemen!” Roger announced, raising his glass.
“Look who I managed to track down.” In high-society circles, wealthy individuals quickly developed a sharp eye for assessing someone’s status.
For An Feng, the tuxedo he wore was custom-tailored and high-grade, but it wasn’t overly flashy.
However, the exquisite Vacheron Constantin watch resting on his wrist hinted at a very deep pocket.
Combine that with his refined, classical British accent and impeccable posture, and he presented an intriguing aura of mystery.
Seeing that he had captured their attention, Roger delivered his prepared pitch.
“This is Alex Ann, an elite gemstone collector from China.
He was the anonymous seller behind the spectacular ‘Twin Stars’ fancy vivid diamonds at the recent auction.
And let me tell you, gentlemen, those diamonds are just the tip of the iceberg for his private collection.” While Roger was technically just an executive at a private bank, his family wielded immense old-money influence.
His personal wealth might have been modest compared to some of the tycoons in the room, but his social access was top-tier.
Hearing him speak so highly of An Feng instantly changed the tone of the collectors, who began looking at him with newfound respect.
An Feng offered a polite, humble smile.
“Roger exaggerates.
I simply happen to possess some very beautiful stones.” His traditional Chinese modesty only fueled their curiosity, and they immediately began peppering him with technical questions.
Fortunately, during his extensive research into artificial diamond crystallization, An Feng’s supercomputer-like brain had memorized vast volumes of geological and gemological data.
He recalled the information effortlessly, discussing mineral purities, refractive indices, and rare crystal structures with a level of deep authority that left the veteran collectors thoroughly impressed.
Roger stayed for a few minutes before sliding back into the crowd to mingle.
An Feng continued to spin a carefully crafted, half-true narrative about his “private acquisitions,” prompting several prominent figures to eagerly exchange business cards with him.
A quick glance at the cards revealed an impressive roster of venture capitalists, real estate moguls, and high-profile philanthropists.
‘It really is true,’ An Feng realized, slipping the cards into his pocket.
‘The more powerful a person is, the simpler their business card.
Some of these literally just have a name and a private phone number.’ Politely excusing himself from the conversation, An Feng grabbed a glass of fine Cabernet and a delicate pastry from the banquet table.
He stood near the edge of the terrace, casually sipping his wine and observing the glamorous crowd.
Just as his eyes drifted toward a particularly daring, low-cut gown worn by a striking blonde nearby, Jenny slid back to his side, sliding her hand into his.
“Find anything interesting to look at?” she asked, her voice dripping with playful suspicion.
“Nothing,” An Feng replied without missing a beat.
“By the way, how are your conversations going?” Jenny’s face lit up with pure joy.
“Incredible!
Miranda took me to meet several producers and fashion editors, and someone even wanted me to sign a contract to do some street shoots!” “I told you so.
You are so beautiful, as long as the timing is right, you will definitely be spotted,” An Feng said, squeezing her hand warmly.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said softly, looking up at him.
“Well, you can reward me well tonight,” An Feng whispered with a teasing wink.
A chime echoed through the hall, signaling that the main presentation was about to begin.
They found a row of seats near the elevated runway, with Roger and Miranda joining them.
Unlike the elaborate, fast-paced runway shows broadcast on television, this was a highly exclusive, intimate display.
A select group of professional models walked the red carpet, pausing elegantly to allow the private collectors and photographers to inspect the massive, high-jewelry pieces they were wearing.
After about ten minutes of display, a representative from the charity stepped forward to deliver a standard, slightly winded speech thanking the patrons, which officially kicked off the charity auction.
“Is that the whole show?” An Feng whispered to Roger, slightly underwhelmed.
“I was expecting a full-scale fashion parade.” Roger thanked him with a laugh.
“This is a private display, all of which are samples.
Strictly speaking, it is not a press conference.
In fact, the charity auction is the focus.” ‘These people really are a unique breed,’ An Feng thought, watching the wealthy patrons ready their paddles.
Once the bidding commenced, An Feng watched in utter amusement as relatively ordinary pieces of jewelry—some of which were barely worth a few hundred dollars in raw materials—were eagerly snapped up for tens of thousands of dollars in the name of philanthropic prestige.
Not wanting to sit entirely empty-handed, An Feng joined in on the fun, raising his paddle to successfully bid a few thousand dollars on a delicate decorative pendant, purely to support the cause and enjoy the theatrical energy of the room.