Over a dozen years since his rebirth, Luke had gained a deep understanding of the differences in aesthetic taste between China and the West.
In China, what's considered handsome? Simply put, looking somewhat feminine. As long as you have a face that makes other guys look away, you can win over a large number of female fans.
It's different in America. If you dare to look like that, believe me, it won't be long before a group of muscular men drag you into an alley.
The rest of the story doesn't need describing.
That pain—those who know, know. Those who don't, only dare to imagine it in the dead of night, while swearing they'd spit in the face of anyone who tried to pull that on them.
To prevent his handsome face from becoming a target for gay men's fantasies, Luke decided long ago to go down the path of the scoundrel and never look back.
The Journalist's Trap
Perhaps due to her family background, Ivanka was not as flamboyant as girls her age; rather, she was a bit reserved. Facing Luke's praise, she simply said flatly, "Thank you for the compliment."
Her voice was calm and gentle, maintaining proper etiquette without seeming overly enthusiastic.
As expected of an elite trained by a powerful family, she's definitely not ordinary, Luke thought, nodding inwardly. "May I call you Ivanka?"
"Of course."
"Alright, beautiful Miss Ivanka, thank you for bringing some excitement to my dull evening. However, I have a few important guests shortly..." He glanced at his wrist. "I have ten minutes left."
Ivanka smiled. "May I borrow those ten minutes?"
"I never refuse a lady's request, especially one from such an outstanding peer like yourself."
"Thank you very much."
Ivanka gathered her long dress and sat on the sofa. She opened her LV bag and took out a prepared note card.
Luke's keen eyes immediately spotted the Ingric logo on the top right corner of the card. As one of Metropolis's famous publishing houses, Ingric had many best-selling publications, especially Ingric Weekly, which focused on successful people under the age of 25 and had high sales.
He had thought she was approaching him out of admiration for his unparalleled looks, but it turned out she was a reporter.
Luke was slightly disappointed, but then quickly became excited.
Ivanka Trump was different from the girls he had met before. She was talented, beautiful, proud, and self-assured. Despite her young age, her mind was mature, as evidenced by her mentioning her father right at the start.
Undoubtedly, she was one of the most challenging types to win over. Clothes and jewelry meant little to her; sweet talk had been heard ad nauseam; and handsome faces were common... To successfully conquer her, he had to take a different approach.
Luke lowered his head in thought and quickly came up with an idea. He smiled.
"Miss Trump, don't speak yet. Let me guess what questions you are going to ask."
Ivanka looked at him strangely. "Are you sure?"
"Why not?"
Luke spread his hands. "Do you really want to do a question-and-answer session like a police interrogation? Come on, I'm not your prisoner, and you're not my captor. Let's not do anything so boring. As young people, why don't we try something new?"
"Alright."
Ivanka closed her note card. "I hope your guess is accurate."
"Naturally. I have never lost since I was a child."
Luke smiled faintly, raising his eyebrows, his powerful confidence effortlessly emerging.
"You have a dozen cards in your hand. It's impossible to guess them all, but I know you definitely plan to ask three questions." He raised his index finger.
"First: Are you really only seventeen years old?"
A hint of surprise flashed across Ivanka's face, but she quickly calmed down.
"And the second?"
"Why didn't you go to university and chose to start a business instead?"
Ivanka, unwilling to concede, continued,
"And the third?"
"Why did you create ShowMe, and what does ShowMe mean to you?"
After he spoke, he smiled at her astonished expression.
"Was I right?"
The girl was speechless. After a moment, she forced a retort.
"I don't know if you peeked at my cards, but..."
"But what?"
Luke interrupted her, his eyes blazing.
"You don't want to admit it, or are you secretly resentful? In your eyes, I see not only confusion but also scrutiny and suspicion. You think I'm just a puppet propped up by family wealth and that I'm nothing special, right?"
Ivanka was dumbfounded. Did he have mind-reading abilities? How did he know her inner thoughts?
Luke folded his arms across his chest and said proudly,
"You are probably thinking right now about why I guessed your thoughts. It's because you are fundamentally ordinary. The level of those three questions is very low; any reporter would think of them, yet you felt the need to write them down on a card."
"Stuck in a rut, adhering to convention, a pretty doll manufactured by a machine. That's the first impression you gave me. Take what just happened: if it were me, I absolutely wouldn't have said, 'Luke Shaw, can I ask you a few questions?' That stiff opening line is no different from clothes produced by ZARA. I would prefer to hear: 'Young sir, why are you sitting here? Are you waiting for a beautiful chance encounter?'"
Luke shrugged. "That's an interesting opening. But you're completely incapable of it."
Ivanka Trump was stunned. She sat there motionless for a long time, unable to recover. Words like adhering to convention, stuck in a rut, and doll hammered into her brain like a pitchfork wielded by a little devil.
Am I really that kind of person?
Ivanka asked herself, a trace of confusion in her eyes.
Luke continued,
"I stopped going to school when I was fifteen. Why? Simple. I didn't want to go to the same place every day, deal with silly classmates, and read useless textbooks. The thought of that terrifying, day-in, day-out life was despairing. So, I dropped out, started studying electronics, left home at seventeen, came to the far-off Metropolis, and founded a company that is changing the world."
"That was my choice: a future full of infinite possibilities. What about you? Where is your future?"
"I..."
Ivanka was completely lost. Her mind was a mess, and she didn't know how to answer. Her father had always taught her to plan her future, and for this, she had written a two-page life plan:
High school, university, joining her father's company, working hard, proving herself, becoming president, taking over the family business, becoming an admired businesswoman... That future was perfect, but compared to Luke's, it seemed insignificant, like dirt beneath the stars.
Luke stood up and offered his hand.
"Beautiful Ivanka, may I have this dance?"
Ivanka subconsciously nodded. Before she could fully process it, Luke pulled her onto the dance floor.
The two stood close, swaying gently to the music.
Luke lowered his voice. "Don't take what I said just now seriously."
"What?"
"Everyone has their own future. You have yours, and I have mine. There's no need to repeat someone else's life."
"But..."
Luke raised his index finger and gently shook it.
"You're a smart girl. Don't get stuck in a dead end. If you feel confused, why not change the subject? For example, guess: What is the handsome guy dancing with you thinking right now?"
Ivanka froze, her expression instantly becoming strange.
The boy's hand on her waist was getting a little too familiar, and his eyes kept darting toward her chest.
A blush crept onto her beautiful face. In her mental confusion, her thoughts became tangled.
"You... you want to pursue me?"
"No."
Luke shook his head. "I just want one kiss!"
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