A flicker of surprise quickly flashed through Yancy Hastings’ hawk-like eyes. Hitting on me? This wretched woman really thinks too highly of herself! "Unreasonable," he scoffed. His impression of Nia Mitchell worsened by the second—birds of a feather flock together, he reasoned. "Let’s go." He turned his head towards Evelyn Peary and, after speaking, strode forward. Fiona Sutton rushed after him, fuming. "You’re the unreasonable one! A narrow-minded person like you—are you even a man?" Nia Mitchell covered her face, unable to bear the sight. Fiona Sutton, do you even remember why you came here today? "I’m not a man?" Yancy Hastings’ face instantly darkened. He had no choice but to stop, his gaze fixed on the woman blocking his path, wishing he could just slap her aside. Follow current novᴇls on 𝗻𝗼𝘷𝗲𝗹•𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮•𝕟𝕖𝕥 "Yancy," Evelyn Peary said, noticing the tense situation, and immediately hurried over. "Let’s hurry inside." As she finished speaking, she reached out and quickly pulled him away. Behind them, Fiona Sutton was still cursing and muttering. "You’re really not a man! You’re the unreasonable one! You’re the one with no manners! So infuriating! You classless jerk!" "Alright, that’s enough. Aren’t you afraid of offending people?" Nia Mitchell went over to stop her tirade; her shrewish display was drawing too much attention. Hearing this, Fiona Sutton immediately quieted down. She had forgotten. This was Capital Town, a place where a random swing of a stick could easily hit someone with a powerful background. The man from earlier, dressed in a military uniform, was the perfect embodiment of a ’powerful background.’ His entire demeanor seemed to scream, ’You can’t afford to mess with me. If you have any sense, get lost!’ But what the hell had she just done? "Why didn’t you try to stop me a little?" Fiona Sutton frowned, looking at Nia Mitchell with regret. So what if I’m ill-mannered? What he said was true, anyway. "Please, Fiona Sutton, with that explosive temper of yours, do you think I could actually stop you?" Nia Mitchell retorted. They had been friends for so many years, yet she still lacked the ability to hold back a charging Fiona Sutton. "That’s true," Fiona admitted. "But that guy just now didn’t seem so difficult to deal with." He already left, right? So, it’s not an issue. Phew, this is the first time I’ve encountered such a... well... good-tempered big shot. The corner of Nia Mitchell’s mouth twitched. Let’s hope so. To be honest, she’d always found Yancy Hastings rather difficult to get along with. He was even more old-fashioned than Uncle Peary, strictly adhering to rules and regulations. He probably set incredibly strict standards for himself, with all sorts of suffocating restrictions. "Let’s go, I’m starving!" Fiona Sutton slung an arm over Nia Mitchell’s shoulder, raised an eyebrow, and gave her a suggestive wink. "I’m starving too," Nia Mitchell smiled. The two of them walked arm-in-arm towards the Lotus Residence, their merry laughter echoing as they went. As soon as they opened the Grand Gate of the Lotus Residence, Nia Mitchell immediately composed her expression and lowered her voice. Brilliant lights illuminated winding corridors. An antique screen, clearly of immense value, came into view. On either side stood tall, vermilion-lacquered high-legged stools, upon which were displayed pieces of blue-and-white porcelain. An overwhelming antique charm instantly filled their vision. Behind the massive screen, an artificial rockery divided the area into two paths—one for entry, one for exit. "Welcome. Please follow me," a waiter greeted them. Noticing their unfamiliar faces, he led them to the service counter. "Why are you bringing just anyone over here?" From behind the service counter, a waiter in his twenties snapped impatiently, his captivating eyes filled with disdain. "This is the Lotus Residence, not some place any Tom, Dick, or Harry can just walk into."