Reluctantly, Wei Cancha left Simon's lap and headed backstage to the dressing room to change into a meticulously crafted dance costume. The outfit had recently been shipped from China and was made with an ancient silk gauze technique, entirely handmade and outrageously expensive. Though there were three backup sets, the costume was rarely worn unless Simon was present.
When Wei Cancha returned to the stage, the lights dimmed to create an atmospheric effect. Even in the semi-darkness, her sharp eyes caught sight of her former seat on the sofa, now occupied by Gu Yaotiao, who had brought along another girl, Meng Xiaowan.
Resentment brewed.
Fueled by her mood, Wei Cancha's performance of "Jian Jia" became even more poignant, melancholic, and deeply moving, eliciting enthusiastic applause from Simon. Then he smiled and asked her to perform it again.
The scoundrel.
Still, she obediently performed the piece a second time. Fortunately, he didn't ask for a third round.
As she was about to head backstage to change out of her costume, Simon motioned for her to come over. Skipping the stairs, she stepped directly off the stage and walked up to him, casually sitting on his lap. With a mischievous air, she nudged Gu Yaotiao, who had taken her spot. No more being besties after this, she thought bitterly.
Gu Yaotiao, fully aware of Wei Cancha's mood, didn't seem the least bit apologetic. Instead, she said with a grin, "Cancha, that costume is really expensive. You should change out of it before you ruin it."
Not a chance. There are backups, anyway.
Ignoring Gu Yaotiao, Wei Cancha looked at Simon, who was holding her slender waist. Simon leaned in slightly, inhaling deeply, and asked with a smile, "What's this scent? It's wonderful—not perfume, is it?"
"No, it's not perfume. It's incense from China," Wei Cancha said, leaning closer so he could get a better whiff. "This particular incense has an interesting name: 'Dream of the Late Tang.' It's made with agarwood as the base, honey as the binder, and petals from four flowers—clove, magnolia, osmanthus, and jasmine. It's completely different from Western perfumes. Isn't it unique, Simon?"
As Simon savored the soft fragrance and the warmth radiating from her, he kissed her on the curve of her delicate neck. "It is unique. 'Dream of the Late Tang'—the waning of prosperity, living drunk and dreaming of death."
The kiss made Wei Cancha shyly shrink her neck, her face turning pink. Yet she feigned calmness and teased, "Simon, whenever you say things like this, I start doubting whether you're really American."
"You caught me," Simon joked. "Over the past few centuries, I've had many identities, like in The Man from Earth. Of course, I've been to China."
She giggled. "We've seen that movie. It's really interesting. I heard the archery scene was personally done by you?"
"It was. No one else could pull the bowstring, and, luckily, I'm pretty strong."
"Yes, I can tell," Wei Cancha nodded, settling more comfortably on his lap as she whispered, "Simon, are you heading back to Manhattan tonight?"
"Of course. It's the Fifth Victoria's Secret Fashion Show. You know that."
Wei Cancha immediately looked disappointed but couldn't help trying: "Then… can I—uh, can we—go with you to watch?"
"The show itself isn't that exciting in person; it's mostly about attending the after-party," Simon explained, noticing her hopeful expression. He smiled. "But if you want to go, of course, it's not a problem."
Her lithe body snuggled closer, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. With a soft voice, she asked, "Simon, what I mean is… can we accompany you tonight?"
Simon chuckled and teased, "Who's 'we'?"
"Yaotiao and the others."
Despite her earlier annoyance with Gu Yaotiao for stealing her seat, Wei Cancha was quick to include her in hopes of pleasing Simon.
With a playful smirk, Simon pressed on. "Just the two of you?"
Wei Cancha pouted slightly and, with a glance at Ouyang Shuli and Su Fengnian, murmured, "Simon, you can choose however many you like."
"That won't do," Simon teased further. "Since you suggested it, you'll have to make the selection for me. But remember, I told you earlier—I'm very strong. If you think you can handle it alone but end up regretting it, don't blame me."
Wei Cancha's face turned bright red. "Simon, you're terrible."
"Think it over carefully," Simon said, his hands tracing the smooth fabric of her costume. He turned to one of the instructors nearby and instructed, "I feel like hearing 'Ambush from Ten Sides.'"
The middle-aged instructor, still radiating elegance, nodded and headed toward the group of twelve musicians, who were seated off to the side and organized based on the "Golden Twelve Beauties" theme.
Simon gave Wei Cancha a gentle nudge. "Go change out of this outfit. It's meant for performances; don't ruin it."
Having secured her request, Wei Cancha obediently got up and went backstage to change.
As she left, Simon glanced around. The musicians were still preparing, so his eyes landed on Su Fengnian, who was sitting beside Ouyang Shuli. He smiled and beckoned her over. "Come here, let me see your pendant."
Su Fengnian had overheard the earlier conversation between Simon and Wei Cancha. With a mix of nervousness and anticipation, she hesitated for a moment before blushing and walking over. As Simon pulled her onto his lap, she found herself sitting much like Wei Cancha had been earlier.
The National Style Arts Troupe girls were all required to wear jade pendants custom-designed for them. The cords for the pendants were deliberately made to a specific length, ensuring the jade rested just above their chests.
As a result, whenever Simon asked to "see the pendant," it always carried a hint of mischief.
Holding the delicate, compliant Su Fengnian, Simon didn't rush. Instead, he asked, "By the way, what's your name?"
Su Fengnian instantly felt a pang of indignation.
Whether Simon genuinely didn't remember her name or was teasing her like he had with Wei Cancha, she wasn't sure. But why, she wondered, did a name like 'Cancha'—which was so odd—feel a hundred times better than her own name, 'Fengnian'? If only she had been given that name instead.
Simon left East Hampton just before lunch.
Wei Cancha accompanied him, and after some hesitation, she took the initiative to include the three girls who had been sitting with Simon earlier—Gu Yaotiao, Ouyang Shuli, and Su Fengnian. As they boarded the helicopter, she couldn't help but feel like a concubine from ancient times, carefully scheming to win the emperor's favor.
Perhaps the entire National Style Arts Troupe operated under a similar dynamic. For Simon Westeros to have more than a hundred women under his influence, none of the girls found it particularly unusual.
After all, Simon's wealth was staggering: $1.5 trillion and growing.
Once in Manhattan, they enjoyed lunch together. Although the trip had ostensibly been about the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show, Simon didn't rush to attend.
The girls were keenly aware of their position. No matter how confident they were in their beauty and charm, they couldn't compare to the supermodels walking the Victoria's Secret runway that evening.
When Simon asked what they wanted to do, Wei Cancha suggested visiting museums, as Manhattan was home to many of the world's finest.
The idea was quickly vetoed.
Simon wasn't interested in drawing attention, but he indulged their curiosity by arranging visits to private collections. Throughout the afternoon, they explored the treasures of several prominent collectors: paintings, sculptures, ancient texts, porcelain, even an Egyptian mummy. The experience rivaled any major museum.
Their final stop was at a jewelry collector's home, where Simon surprised them by letting each girl choose a piece as a gift.
After a moment of polite hesitation, they each picked something they liked.
However, when the smiling collector handed Wei Cancha a carefully wrapped necklace and brooch, along with a stack of certification documents, she curiously peeked at the papers. The seven-figure price tag on the appraisal nearly made her drop them. She looked at Simon with wide eyes, mumbling, "Maybe I shouldn't take this…"
Simon insisted, and the gift was finalized.
Still, Wei Cancha couldn't help but feel like no matter what happened now, her life was forever tied to this man. She even thought, Even if I sold myself, it wouldn't cover the cost of this necklace.
Sneaking glances at the other three girls, she noticed their reactions mirrored her own.
By the time they returned to the Fifth Avenue penthouse around 7 PM, none of them seemed particularly interested in the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show anymore.
Dinner came and went, and as the evening deepened, the girls' attention turned fully to Simon. A man and four women could find countless ways to occupy their time. The allure of the fashion show and its after-party paled in comparison to the intimate setting they now shared. Simon ultimately decided to skip the event entirely
.
Elsewhere, in Manhattan, the Fifth Victoria's Secret Fashion Show was electrifying the city. The event had been making waves in the media for months, and tonight, the city buzzed with energy. The frenzy surrounding the show even seemed to warm the chilly winter air.
The Lexington Avenue Armory, where the event was held, was completely packed. Both show tickets and after-party invitations had been impossible to obtain, leading thousands of fans to gather outside the venue. Later, they flocked to the Gramercy Hotel, where the after-party was being held. Even though they knew they wouldn't catch a glimpse of the iconic "angel" supermodels, they refused to leave, forcing the city to deploy extra police to maintain order.
While many noticed Simon Westeros's absence from the evening's festivities, the dazzling supermodels and A-list attendees ensured the night was still a roaring success.
The next morning, newspapers, television, and online platforms were flooded with coverage of the spectacular show. Public anticipation for the November 18th broadcast of the event reached an all-time high. Victoria's Secret announced that the final show's TV airing would be extended by 30 minutes to include exclusive behind-the-scenes footage.
Fifth Avenue Penthouse, Upper East Side, Manhattan.
The same morning.
Carmen Kass, increasingly adept in her role as Simon's personal assistant, found the day to be particularly unusual.
It was already past 9 AM, and Simon still hadn't woken up.
This was a first for Carmen, and judging by the housekeeper, Angray Davis's, perplexed expression, it wasn't something she experienced often either.
In the sprawling penthouse, staff typically avoided intruding when Simon had company. After finishing breakfast and preparing some documents, Simon's A-assistant noticed Carmen's hesitation when she came to deliver coffee and asked about Simon's late start. Hearing that he was still asleep, she raised an eyebrow and couldn't help but feel a twinge of concern.
Sometimes indulgence had its consequences.
Moments later, she left her study and walked up to the third-floor master bedroom. Knocking lightly, she waited for a response before opening the door slightly. Hearing the faint sounds coming from inside, she paused briefly and then quietly withdrew.
It wasn't until around 10 AM that Simon finally descended the stairs.
Noticing his arrival, the assistant stood to greet him, joined by both Carmen and Angray, who had appeared as if by some magnetic pull.
Simon glanced at their expressions and casually instructed Angray, "Bring three breakfasts upstairs. They'll eat in the bedroom. I'll eat something simple here."
With that, he headed to the dining room.
His assistant followed, waiting until Simon was seated. After dismissing Carmen with a few instructions, she rested her chin on her hand, her curiosity evident. "Boss, how are you feeling this morning… hmm, especially good?"
The troupe girls were handpicked top-tier dancers, and their combined efforts had clearly left Simon in excellent spirits.
Amused by her curiosity, Simon smirked and quipped, "Whatever you're thinking, you couldn't match it."
Though slightly indignant, the assistant couldn't argue against the obvious.
When Carmen returned with milk and cookies for him to snack on, Simon took a sip and turned to his assistant. "What's on the agenda today?"
Pushing a stack of newspapers and documents toward him, she replied, "Last night's Victoria's Secret show was a massive success. It's all over the news today. The Lexington Avenue area was jammed until 2 AM. I heard about a young boy from Canada who waited outside in the cold until he collapsed from exhaustion. Thankfully, they got him to the hospital in time."
Simon, who had never personally understood the concept of celebrity obsession, could still appreciate the fervor that Victoria's Secret had managed to cultivate. With five years of shows under its belt, the Angel Army had amassed an enormous fan base, even if it didn't rival the reach of movie or music stars.
Nibbling on a cookie as he skimmed The New York Times, Simon commented, "Maybe we should remind Grace to pay closer attention to the girls' safety. I don't want any incidents like Rebecca Schaeffer's back in the day."
"I don't think there's much risk, but we could assign each of them a personal bodyguard?"
Simon pretended to choke on a cookie crumb and coughed lightly before shaking his head. "Next topic."
His assistant rolled her eyes but obliged. "Yesterday afternoon, that girl from the National Style Arts Troupe, Feng Caifan, officially moved out. All procedures have been completed, and someone will replace her for next month's tour. Per your instructions, her name and pendant have been reclaimed. I've already emailed Chen to recruit a new girl."
Simon simply nodded.
He never forced anyone to stay, whether they were part of his life or the troupe. As long as they didn't cross any serious lines, they were free to leave whenever they wanted. For someone like Feng Caifan, who had clearly decided to pursue a different path, there was no reason to keep her tied down.
Observing Simon's neutral expression, the assistant shifted to another topic. "Regarding yesterday's assassination of Yefim Shcherban in Ukraine, the White House will release a statement tomorrow. Several major newspapers, including The New York Times, will follow up, and arrangements with Moscow have also been finalized."
"Keep it controlled. I don't want Lazarenko to lose his position over this in the short term."
"Understood." She made a mental note before pointing to the stack of papers in front of Simon. "Finally, there's an interesting article from Richard Mellon Scaife. He met with Julian Robertson of Tiger Management on Friday night."
Simon raised an eyebrow. "Scaife's an extreme right-winger. Isn't Robertson a Democrat?"
"Actually, Robertson's a Republican. Over the years, he's donated over a million dollars to various Republican causes and almost nothing to Democrats."
Simon filed that away.
He had assumed Robertson leaned Democrat due to his relationship with George Soros, who, despite occasionally supporting both sides, was largely a Democrat.
Not that it mattered much.
Even within the Westeros system, which leaned Democrat due to Simon's influence, many key executives were Republican. Simon welcomed this dual alignment, which allowed him to straddle both sides of the political aisle.
As for Scaife's scheming, Simon had long been aware of it.
The Westeros family's private intelligence network was well-funded and diligent. Just as Simon's corporations generated vast profits with nowhere else to go, he had poured resources into surveilling Scaife to the point of near-total transparency.
After Simon had confronted Timothy Mellon some time ago, Scaife had become increasingly paranoid and reactive. But his efforts to evade surveillance had proven futile.
Everything Scaife had been plotting recently was already in Simon's hands.
As the Westeros system expanded into traditional industries, it increasingly threatened America's old-money families. Among the most contentious battles in recent years was the existential clash between digital media and traditional print.
If Simon's ruthless takedown of the Hearst family two years ago hadn't left many too wary to act, the Westeros system might already have become the public enemy of America's print media establishment.
Still, the underlying conflicts remained.
And it wouldn't stop there. Healthcare, mining, transportation, defense—Simon intended to enter them all.
Rather than letting tensions build to a breaking point, Simon preferred to let them erupt in manageable bursts so he could dismantle them one by one.
As they continued discussing the day's priorities, Carmen returned with breakfast. Simon began eating while finally skimming through Scaife's latest "masterpiece."
If Scaife had been present, he would have broken into a cold sweat.
It was an impressive piece.
Scaife's attack on tech stocks was entirely predictable.
The tech bubble was an obvious target, especially given the massive financial stakes. Those who bet correctly could see astronomical returns. But even if the bubble burst, the impact on the well-prepared Westeros system would be minimal. On the contrary, it might even allow Simon to expand his tech empire further.
The real losers would be countless startups and investors caught in the chaos.
While Simon was almost looking forward to it, appearances still had to be maintained. He couldn't let Scaife and his allies feel like they were punching at air.
Besides, if Scaife had enlisted Julian Robertson to short tech stocks, Simon was curious. Should Tiger Management double down and, like in the original timeline, suffer catastrophic losses that forced it to liquidate, how would Robertson explain it to his investors? And more importantly, how would the Mellon family respond to their new ally's failure?
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/INNIT
For every 50 Power Stones, one extra chapter will be released on Saturday.