The lobby manager strode into the hotel lobby, security guards in tow.
His gaze swept the room and instantly spotted Evan Lin sitting by the sofa, so he led his team straight over.
Today, the hotel is full of celebrities.
So things can't get too out of hand.
They had to resolve it quickly and quietly, making sure not to cause any unnecessary trouble.
"Sorry, but you'll need to leave."
When he reached Evan Lin, the lobby manager spoke directly, looking at the young man in front of him: "Today we’re only welcoming hotel guests. You’re not staying here, so please leave immediately."
"You have ten seconds to walk away from this spot, or I can't promise I won't take necessary measures."
As the manager spoke, the security guards stepped forward, each one eyeing Evan Lin like a predator.
There were quite a few of them.
The atmosphere crackled with tension.
You can try asking me to leave.
Evan Lin glanced at the crowd, then locked eyes with the lobby manager, lounging back on the sofa with a cold, clear gaze.
So you don’t want to take the easy way out, huh?
The lobby manager’s face darkened. He clearly hadn’t expected this kid to be so cocky right now.
If that’s how you want it, fine. Guess you won’t cry until you see the coffin.
He finished speaking and stepped back.
The security guards rushed forward, swarming to grab Evan Lin and toss him out.
You brought this on yourself.
Upstairs, Victor Wu pulled out a cigarette, stuck it between his lips, and lounged, waiting to watch the show.
Aren’t you supposed to be a tough guy? Let’s see—with all these people, how many can you take?
Victor Wu’s tone was cold. He still held a grudge about the airport, and Evan Lin’s attitude toward him just made it worse.
Besides—
If the lobby manager handled Evan Lin, and the Dunn Group really came after them, Victor Wu could point to this as proof he and Yara Song weren’t really tied to this kid.
Two birds with one stone.
While Victor Wu was scheming, plenty of people passing by noticed the commotion.
Some people stopped and looked over.
"What’s going on?" A handsome man holding a hat glanced at Evan Lin and asked the woman next to him, who was dressed to the nines, sounding curious.
Probably some fan snuck in to stalk a celebrity and got busted.
The woman next to him smiled, totally unfazed. "Fans these days are way too intense—it’s enough to give you a headache. They don’t know how to act at all."
But the hotel’s security is pretty tight—he probably just got in and was caught right away.
The woman’s words drew unanimous agreement from the others.
Some celebrities, used to being hunted by fans, felt it keenly. Right now, their gaze toward Evan Lin was tinged with obvious disgust.
Meanwhile, a few idle rich heirs watched with eager faces, hoping for chaos—almost wishing they could join in.
Stop staring, let’s go. That kid’s about to get dragged out.
The man hesitated, glanced at the lobby manager, and called out, "Try not to make a scene here!"
Hearing the man’s words, the lobby manager—who had been facing Evan Lin—paused, turned to look at him, then smiled and nodded. "Don’t worry."
He didn’t stop the lobby manager from doing his job—after all, that was the manager’s duty. But with those words spoken, he figured the guards would show at least a little restraint when dealing with the youth.
Let’s head up to the rooftop—the cocktail party’s about to start.
The man spoke up; saying a word for a stranger was already the greatest kindness he could offer. Besides, he had no idea what the youth sitting over there had actually done.
If that guy’s been stalking some celebrity for ten or twenty days, it wouldn’t really be appropriate for him to step in and help.
The woman beside him nodded, not objecting.
The two of them headed toward the elevator.
As they turned, they caught a glimpse of the security guards reaching for the youth.
The youth seemed stunned, sitting there without daring to move.
He couldn’t even run if he wanted to.
Seeing this, the man shook his head while the woman sighed inwardly.
"They say a few big directors will be here this time—maybe there’ll be some good scripts." The man said, looking relaxed.
"Weren’t you planning to do an action movie? What happened?" the woman asked curiously.
I wanted to learn some martial arts first, then give it a try—but it’s really hard to find someone who actually knows kung fu these days.
Mentioning this, the man couldn’t help but feel regret. Then he joked self-deprecatingly, "Honestly, I’m kind of washed up now. After working with Yara Song once, my career hit a bottleneck."
You know what situation I’m in.
At this point, his tone was tinged with disappointment.
He was handsome, but even the best-looking face fades when you’re past your prime.
Leon Yuan, don’t be discouraged. Maybe your next movie will be a hit—and your popularity isn’t exactly low right now.
The woman beside him comforted him, unable to help feeling sorry.
Leon Yuan.
A once-popular actor, he’d done a lot of charity work since his debut, including funding several Hope Primary Schools.
But ever since he starred opposite Yara Song, she skyrocketed while his career stalled.
Not only that, but he’s been getting fewer and fewer gigs lately. He’s basically washed up, and all those people who used to flatter him don’t bother anymore.
They say when someone leaves, even the tea grows cold.
But sometimes, the tea’s cold even before you leave.
He wanted to make a comeback with a perfect action movie, but now he couldn’t find any real martial arts masters.
Leon Yuan gave a bitter laugh, his eyes dim.
He reached out and pressed the elevator button.
The elevator was coming down, but the doors hadn’t opened yet.
He heard muffled sounds coming from behind him.
The sound seemed to pound right into his heart, leaving him with a strange, indescribable feeling.