The illegitimate child, Polly Sutton looked Mason Rook up and down, with two words written clearly on her face: scumbag.
Mason Rook seemed to be in a better mood, pulling out his phone, "Why don't we exchange WeChat, so when you buy the laptop, I can pay for it?"
That computer was dedicated to design work and was very expensive, so without even thinking, Polly added the private WeChat of the emperor of cinema that countless people couldn't get, "It's a deal then, you can't renege."
"If I renege, you can go after him, after all, he's still on the same household registry as you; he can't escape." Mason said, happily leaving before Victor Parker could lose his temper.
After Mason left, only the two of them were left in the office. Victor Parker tapped lightly on the table with his fingertips, "I like men?"
Polly Sutton's eyes wandered, "Our agreement was that I would help you deal with those pesky suitors, but there was no specification on the methods."
"The pesky suitors are gone, but are you suggesting I divorce you to ensure I have no heirs?"
Polly thought of the two little kids at home. It's unlikely you'd have no heirs, but...
Polly couldn't hold back, "President Parker, do you have some misunderstanding about yourself? With your personality, the only option left for you is to be forever alone, right?"
What's the use of being good-looking if no flattering words ever come out of your mouth?
"In that case, why should I get a divorce when I've finally gotten a wife?"
"President Parker, dashing and debonair, resembling the looks of Pan An and the talents of Li Bai, any woman you take a liking to is sure to be deeply infatuated with you. That's mutual affection. When you find true love, such rumors won't matter anymore." Polly rattled off a string of words, afraid he really might not want a divorce, "True love doesn't care about gender."
Victor looked at Polly Sutton; she could speak both human and ghostly words.
"In there are the clothes I changed out of today. Wash them clean and send them back."
"I won't!" Polly exploded in opposition, thinking her own clothes were washed by Benny. Now she has to wash his clothes?
"Those clothes got dirty while saving you," Victor reminded her.
Polly couldn't help twitching her mouth. If he even knew how to spell "shame," he wouldn't have said such a thing.
"It was just..." Coffee beans spilled, that's all. But before Polly finished speaking, she looked in the direction of Victor's resting area. Not in the office? Maybe in his lounge?
"Fine, I'll wash them for you, just wait." With that, Polly hurried to Victor's lounge, convinced Andrew Lindsey wouldn't lie to her about this.
Victor's lounge was as simple as his office, with just a bed, a wardrobe, and clothes he had taken off were placed on the rack at the door, visible at a glance, with no model in sight.
Polly looked back at Victor, who was lounging back in his chair watching her. Restraining her urge to escape, she yanked the clothes off the rack, "Alright then, it's just washing clothes, right?"
"Remember, hand-wash them."
Polly shot Victor a glare, wanting to fling the clothes back in his face but not daring to do so.
After Polly left, Andrew entered. Victor stood by the window, behind the curtains was the 曲水流觞 model he had recently moved in.
"You think she wants this?"
Andrew nodded, "Miss Sutton seemed uninterested in the other models in the model room, except for this one."
Victor gazed at the exquisite yet slightly yellowed model, which Mason Rook Senior had given him as a birthday present for his sixth birthday. Knowing how much he liked the 曲水流觞 design, it had taken him a year to craft it.
Unfortunately, the day after his birthday, the Rook Family was burned to ashes in a fire.
That woman does have an eye, recognizing what's truly valuable.
It's just a pity that many of the woodworking designs in 曲水流觞 have been lost, unable to be replicated.
Instead of finding 曲水流觞, Polly ended up with a chore. Even after returning to school, she was still wondering if she'd been fooled.
The master's wife found her sitting on a stool with her feet in a basin, washing clothes. "What are you thinking about so intently?"
"Ma'am, I entered the place at Parker Corporation today where they keep their models, but there wasn't 曲水流觞 there. Has Parker Corporation not preserved those models?" Polly couldn't help but ask.
"That resort was the first of its kind in the country, gone decades ago. Parker started making models only in the past ten years; it's impossible for them to have 曲水流觞. You're still looking for it after all these years?" The master's wife sat next to her, patting her foot so she moved it out and took over hand-washing the clothes. "Whose clothes are these? Your senior brother's?"
Just looking at the fabric and style, it didn't look like the clothes her apprentice would wear. "Are you in a relationship?"
"No way!" Polly immediately refuted, "But I heard Victor Parker has a model of 曲水流觞."
"He indeed has one, personally crafted by Mason Rook Senior, rumored to be a perfect replica, but no one's ever seen it."
Polly: "!!!"
So, it's not in the office? Maybe at his home?
"If you find the model, can 曲水流觞 be replicated?"
"Impossible, many of the woodworking techniques in 曲水流觞 have been lost, especially after the Rook Family's tragedy. Some tenon-and-mortise structures vanished as well." The master's wife sighed while washing clothes.
Polly sat there, chin in hand, daydreaming, "Was the Rook Family's death truly an accident? Could no one escape?"
How is that different from extermination?
"The case concluded it was due to improper use of electricity, compounded by the fact that the Rook's house was entirely wooden. It's no wonder."
"But ma'am, because the house was entirely wooden, and Mason Rook Senior was such a prominent figure in architecture, he should have had a robust fire prevention system. It really shouldn't have happened..."
"It's been so many years, honey. You've been researching 曲水流觞 all these years—do you really like it so much?"
Polly nodded, "Very much. It just feels..."
She couldn't articulate it, just a feeling that struck her heart, a sense that this kind of architecture shouldn't have disappeared but should be seen by more people.
"Oh no, this fabric can't be washed in cold water." The master's wife suddenly exclaimed, pulling the clothes out of the basin, now wrinkled and creased.
Polly: "It's more delicate than a person!"
Just like its owner, not likable at all.
"Whose clothes are these?" The master's wife was sure now; these clothes definitely weren't something an ordinary person could afford, with no label, probably custom-made.
Polly eyed the cranky clothes, still absorbed in thoughts of the model, "It's just a piece of clothing, right? I can just buy a new one for him."
"These clothes don't look cheap, probably around the same price as your teacher's—probably around a hundred thousand or so."
Polly: "..."
How much? Was she hearing things?