(The mini-climax is about to begin, ready to cheer for Miss Ziceng for the first time; on the battlefield of men, women are not merely onlookers.)
The events that unfolded over the next few days were like the sled tracks on the ski slope, spiraling downwards, smoothly and tortuously.
The next day after breakfast, Miss Su Ziceng formally arranged a meeting with Count Olson.
Although the Count was somewhat surprised by the directness of the young guest, Olson was a businessman; he knew time is money.
After the meal, Orleans couldn’t wait to take Wen Maixue out. Su Ziceng and Pello, on the other hand, were led by Olson to a place said to be ideal for discussions.
The holiday lodge was well-equipped in various aspects, nearly having all functions despite lacking a dedicated conference room.
When Miss Su Ziceng and her party went up the mountain, the snow between the mountains was not thick enough to prevent snowmobiles; now, after a day and night of snowfall, the paths that the snowmobiles could travel were buried. To reach the discussion place Olson mentioned, there was only one other means: to take the cable car.
"If it gets any colder, even the cables of the cable car will ice over, and then going up and down the mountain will be quite troublesome," Olson said with a laugh, sitting on the cable car. He wore a bearskin hat on his bald head and was wrapped in a bearskin coat, with only his discerning eyes exposed.
Miss Su Ziceng remained silent, sitting on the cable car trail, feeling only the swiftly passing snowy peaks and hills below. Faced with the vastness of nature, one is always insignificant. She felt a bit nervous, worrying that if she wasn’t careful, the guardrail might loosen, and like the snowflakes pirouetting beside her, she would fall down loosely.
The vast snow created an illusion of being in heaven, as if one who falls would be jumping into a warm blanket.
Her hand was grasped, and Miss Su Ziceng’s somewhat dazed eyes relaxed upon seeing Pello’s smiling face. They didn’t alight from the cable car until it slid into the station.
"It’s been many years since I’ve been here," Olson remarked with a sigh, gazing at the Cedar Forest ahead. "My most beloved nephew died right here."
The man in the bearskin stood on the elevated platform of the cable car station, speaking as if he was decreeing from on high. When he spoke of the innocent boy who had died, there was not a hint of guilt, only feigned sorrow that, to Miss Su Ziceng, seemed full of hypocrisy.
Now it was Miss Su Ziceng’s turn to grip Pello’s hand tightly. He did not react, and she raised her head, her vision obscured by the snow, only making out a set of lips that were tightly compressed then released, appearing overly flushed.
No one wanted to bring up the "Pello" Viscount who had died; Olson had only mentioned him momentarily out of forgetfulness. He led the two through the Cedar Forest.
The cedars of the Alpine, tall and straight as if they had grown for hundreds of years, bore no superfluous branches or leaves. Fortunately, the Cedar Forest was not so thick; even without a snow trail, it did not matter much. After walking for about fifteen minutes, a vast expanse of Snow Lake came into view.
This boundaryless Snow Lake, entirely unlike the West Lake beside Kelly Women’s College, saw the snow gathering upon its surface, quickly forming a layer of transparent snow crystals.
The weather was not yet cold enough to freeze the lake, so there were a few swans tolerant of the cold on the water. They broke the snow crystals with their webbed feet, and then a cold, white mist rose from the surface of the water.
The lake was bisected by several man-made docks. The pine docks and the small pine pavilions indeed made for an excellent place to talk business.
"Let’s have a seat up front, I’ve had someone store some good stuff here in advance," Count Olson was less restrained as he walked toward the pine pavilions.
In the pine pavilion with the most open view, indeed, someone had pre-arranged some food. Taking insulation into account, the items were wrapped very tightly.
Upon opening the thermal container, Su Ziceng smelled a rich aroma.
"Truffle cream soup," Pello whispered the name.
"That’s prepared for the ladies. We men should..." A splashing sound interrupted as Count Olson pulled up a steel bucket from the waterside of the pavilion, revealing two bottles of brandy surprisingly hidden within. In summer, lake water would chill the wine, creating a refreshing taste, while in winter, the wine would be "warmed" rather than chilled, removing the astringency and making for a smoother flavor.
Another package was opened, revealing dozens of skewers of grilled truffle slices and American sweet shrimp.
Pello’s eyes dimmed. Count Olson had also prepared these delicacies when he took him hunting in the vicinity over a decade ago. Back then, however, Pello was still a child who couldn’t touch alcohol. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on N0veI.Fiɾe.net
With the aid of gourmet food, Su Ziceng felt her tongue grow more nimble. She also drank several glasses of wine, while the other two men remained silent. No one steered the conversation toward work.
Wild swans took flight from the lake’s surface, competing with the snowflakes dancing over the lake.
The dishes were emptied, and Su Ziceng felt the timing was right, so she began: "Count Olson, I’d like to discuss the Asian franchise rights for ZARA with you."
"It seems Miss Su’s appetite has become smaller," Count Olson replied nonchalantly, looking at the leftover creamy soup that Su had left behind, aware that she was not merely interested in the Asian franchise rights for ZARA.
"After witnessing Count Olson’s talents, I think I should act within my capabilities and deal with the matter of the Asian rights first," Su Ziceng knew it was pointless to say more at this moment, and she preferred to convey her thoughts to Count Olson in the simplest of language, flattering him as an effective opening remark.
"I’m not necessarily as talented as Miss Su Ziceng describes, my elder brother was much more outstanding when he was alive, even my deceased nephew was way more competent than I," This was the second time Count Olson mentioned his late nephew.
Pello was still drinking, but much slower now. It wasn’t possible that Count Olson would keep referring to his past misdeeds in front of a stranger. Maybe it was the familiar landscape nearby that brought about a desire for confession.
"However, I am indeed a rather petty man," Count Olson stood up, gazing at the lone white swan remaining on the lake. It appeared tired, curling its wings and resting motionless on the lake as if dead.
"Petty?" Su Ziceng mulled over the implication within Count Olson’s words.
How could a petty Count Olson invite two complete strangers for a meal of expensive truffles and fine wine beside a beautiful lakeside?
Unless, he had some particular intentions in mind or perhaps he knew that by inviting two people out today, he could gain a greater return. (To be continued. If you work, you are welcome to vote for it at Qidian (qidian.com) with your recommendation tickets and monthly tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation.)