As the plane landed, airport staff who had been waiting for a long time were getting ready to negotiate. Chairman Bao admitted his guilt.
The person in charge said, "That's great!"
There was no need to go through customs. They could take him directly back to China.
To avoid unnecessary trouble abroad, the procedures went very quickly. Jian Jing and the domestic police had an international long-distance call and she gave her statement over the video network.
A task panel that Dian An did not know about also quietly popped up with a completion message.
[Task Name: The Murder Case on the Green Plane (Completed)]
[Content Description: A passenger suddenly died violently at the high altitude on an international flight. With complicated relationships and ethics, who killed him? Please find out the truth before the plane lands.]
[Task Rewards and Penalties: 20 courage points for success, no penalty for failure]
At the beginning, Jian Jing thought "green" referred to the paint color of the plane. Later she realized it was real "green."
Cough, after all the twists and turns, everyone was exhausted enough without the appetite for lunch. They went straight to the hotel to sleep.
Perhaps because they had released energy in advance, Jian Jing slept very soundly until the bright lights came on outside.
She called room service and ordered some dishes she was interested in, then hurried to take a hot bath. Feeling refreshed when she came out, dinner had arrived as well.
Although Western food does not suit the Chinese stomach, champagne is still nice to drink.
She sat in a rocking chair by the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, facing Central Park shrouded in the night view, and bowed her head to check her phone.
As always, Jiang Baiyan messaged her at the fastest frequency to show up at the very top.
[Have you arrived?]
[The flight should have landed, right?]
[Did you go to sleep??]
[Nice weather today to twist your waist and go for a walk]
[See Chairman Orange’s bath photo]
Jian Jing replied: [Just woke up]
Jiang Baiyan: [Jet lag reversed? Want to go out and play?]
Jian Jing: [???]
Jiang Baiyan sent over a location that was probably a few hundred meters away from her hotel.
Jian Jing was surprised: [When did you get here?]
Jiang Baiyan explained: [The Chairman has an apartment here that I think he bought for Jiang Xue’s future studies. I originally wanted to sell it but the view is so nice I feel a bit reluctant~~]
Jian Jing deadpanned: [I hate rich second generations]
Jiang Baiyan: [Come hang out]
Jian Jing: [No!]
Jiang Baiyan: [...]
Jiang Baiyan: [Go for a walk?]
Jiang Baiyan: [Never mind]
Jian Jing: [??]
He: [I think someone fired a gun downstairs...]
Jian Jing opened the window. Soon, she also heard two sounds similar to firecrackers amidst the cover of night. So harmonious.
She: [You're right, not safe]
Jiang Baiyan: [I recommend you watch xxx series with less than ten episodes total. You can finish binge watching it to reverse your jet lag at night]
Jian Jing: [Ok]
She took out her iPad and started watching the drama, chatting with him about the plot every now and then. It was idle talk that somehow lasted past midnight.
Not until his replies slowed down did Jian Jing notice how late it was.
Jiang Baiyan was always like this. Perhaps there would be prejudice against his profession upon first meeting, but he was really hard to dislike after getting along for a while.
A little too much enthusiasm was like adding alcohol to a drink, tipsily comfortable.
She: [Have to get up early tomorrow, good night]
[Good night]
See, he grasped the extent so well. Even though it was one-sided effort from him, it didn't feel burdensome.
Jian Jing turned off her phone and continued watching the drama. After finishing the first season, it was perfect timing to sleep in a little.
The next day at 7 AM, she was refreshed and the jet lag was mostly reversed.
Jian Jing went to the dining room to eat breakfast. Sure enough Kang Mu Cheng was already awake, unsurprisingly eating sandwiches and hot coffee.
"Aren't you eating anything else?" she asked.
Kang Mu Cheng said, "No need, I'm used to it."
The years he studied abroad in America, he mostly solved meals with sandwiches. Lady Kang Lei certainly didn't pamper her son. There was no independent apartment or housekeeper at all.
Kang Mu Cheng was clearly not someone keen on enjoying life. Why spend time cooking when you could read two more books instead.
As soon as his stomach went abroad it automatically switched to student mode.
Jian Jing clicked her tongue and decided to eat well this time.
"Did you bring all your clothes and shoes? Need to buy anything?" Kang Mu Cheng asked.
Jian Jing: "I brought everything."
Kang Mu Cheng: “The award ceremony is tomorrow. It’s just like an evening gala to get to know people in the circles here. You can also make some friends."
Jian Jing was unenthused, vaguely agreeing: “So what’s the plan for today?
He said, "Meeting with the publishing house we cooperate with in the afternoon, and having dinner with their editor-in-chief in the evening. Nothing scheduled in the morning. I'll accompany you wherever you want."
Jian Jing didn't have any plans either but was excited: “Just take a look around!”
"Sure." Kang Mu Cheng nodded.
And so, without any creativity, they went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
After satisfyingly spending a whole day there and burning calories, lunch was pizza, fries, and onion rings. While happily wolfing everything down, Jian Jing criticized how unhealthy it was: “Eating like this, calories must be over the limit."
Kang Mu Cheng picked up a slice of pizza without responding — no need to take complaints like this seriously. She was just saying it for the sake of saying, if told to eat somewhere else instead she would be unhappy.
Sure enough, Jian Jing said one thing but her actions didn't slow down at all, even teasing him.
“Look at others, just t-shirts and jeans. Don’t you feel weird still wearing a suit here to eat?”
In the hot June weather Kang Mu Cheng was still shirt, vest and trousers, solemnly out of place and the sight itself made one feel hot for him.
Kang Mu Cheng wiped his hands clean before looking up at her.
Jian Jing: "?"
He: "Sit properly, your skirt."
Young girls could bare legs recklessly without fear of cold or sun exposure. Jian Jing was the same, relying on excellent bodily conditions to dress very willfully. At least dozens of ultrashort skirts in the closet.
However, skirts may look nice but a slight wrong sitting angle could easily lead to overexposure.
Jian Jing changed position very unwillingly, extremely unhappy.
Why couldn't the system give an "absolute no exposure card"? That would be meeting a real need!
[System: Host can try drawing a card]
For a moment Jian Jing felt tempted but held back.
Courage points were hard earned and using them for such a trivial matter would be too wasteful. Forget it. If she met a hooligan, two punches would do.
In the afternoon, Kang Mu Cheng brought the team to talk business and Jian Jing loitered on the streets with nothing to do.
Got hit on 3 times, rejected them all.
Got targeted by thieves 2 times, caught them red-handed on the spot.
Exceedingly annoyed, she simply went into a movie theater and picked a film not yet released domestically, happily killing time until the evening.
The next day was the AT Book Awards ceremony.
Here the American literary awards must be introduced. Apart from the widely known Book Award, Pulitzer Prize, Hugo Award and other prizes, there was also the AT Book Award jointly held by major print media.
Among the many prizes this was the most market-oriented one with sales volume instead of literary merit as the judging standard.
For example on the list there was a book on storage, cooking and finance that wouldn't even qualify for nomination in other awards, yet still held a spot at the AT Books.
As a result the AT Book Award was controversial, with many people believing it was just a sales ranking and could not be issued as a literary award.
But the power of money was immense, especially in a capital controlled country. For publishers, books that could sell well were the best books, awards be damned.
Jian Jing's "Demon Doctor" series won AT's Best Foreign Language Novel Award which actually couldn't compare to the Dream Pen Award her "Rose Gold" series received domestically.
Yet Kang Mu Cheng believed this was a good start.
The literary value of "Demon Doctor" actually wasn't that strong either. Being able to use it to open up overseas markets and let English readers remember her name was already enough.
So another purpose for her to receive the prize was to gain familiarity with American publishers and fight for more cooperation opportunities to introduce other books abroad as well.
Jian Jing understood priorities and readily agreed.
On the day of the ceremony, she used a facial mask, ate lighter food, squeezed herself into a nice little dress, and had hair and make up done by a stylist.
Lastly she wore the diamond necklace Kang Mu Cheng gifted her in the past. Done.
The gala dinner was set at the hotel. Floodlights lit up early outside, outlining the unique extravagance and luxury of a metropolis. The red carpet was already laid out at the entrance and luxury cars were lined up one after another like a long dragon. There were reporters working too, occasionally taking photos here and there.
It was just that they were too arrogant. For ordinary guests, they would just glance at them and be done with it. Taking photos? Don't even think about it.
But when Jian Jing got out of the car, one of them raised his arm, aimed the camera, and snapped several shots in a row.
"Asian," his companion said disinterestedly. "What's there to take pictures of?"
"She won an award. There should at least be a photo." The reporter looked at the small screen and suddenly became excited. "Hey, this chick is pretty good-looking."
A beauty is an eternal topic for men. His companion was fluent in words, but his eyes honestly looked over.
The Asian girl in a black cocktail dress, arm in arm with her male companion, walked towards them. Her figure was smaller than Western girls by a circle, but not weak or delicate, with a natural aura.
The two men, one in his early twenties and the other in his forties, somehow looked at her in unison.
It wasn't until her back disappeared that the older one said, "I actually remembered her face."
"She's very special," the young one nodded in agreement, trying to recall, "I remember, uh, her name is Jian."
It was a simple and easy to remember name. Both reporters remembered it and naturally pictured her appearance when writing the news, and couldn't help but add a few more strokes - "Miss Jian is very young, said to still be a student. Just by her looks, it's hard to imagine that she is actually the author of 'Demon Doctor.' In the interview, her speech and temperament left a very deep impression on this reporter..."
The two reporters' inner changes were of course unknown to Jian Jing.
Her first words upon entering were to complain to Kang Mu Cheng: "It reeks of capitalist decay."
Look at this environment.
The crystal chandelier shone brightly, the marble was as reflective as a mirror, the scent of expensive perfume lingered in the air. Men and women alike wore suits and gowns, either the latest seasonal pieces or limited editions that money couldn't buy.
"Hey Judy, long time no see," the flamboyantly gay editor-in-chief greeted people with winks. "Oh, James, you look so charming today."
The short-haired fashion editor, dressed entirely in masculine attire, was chatting with a famous book merchant, a glass of red wine in hand, an inscrutable smile: "Yes, my dear, I believe in your sincerity, but..."
Luxurious sights and smells of wine, utterly reminiscent of the magnificent backdrop of The Great Gatsby.
"Endure, you have to earn their money," Kang Mu Cheng said calmly, greeting familiar people and bringing her over.
The editor-in-chief of the newspaper who had specifically invited them came up joyfully with open arms. "You came! This is Jian? He didn't tell me that you were such a beautiful girl."
"Hello," Jian Jing nodded silently, silently activating her charm card.
Poor social skills, topped up by beauty stats.
As expected, the dazzled editor-in-chief's smile became a few degrees more sincere: "Come, let me introduce you to our big boss."
