Are you blind?

The scene outside the Royal Ascot ticket purchase was grand and chaotic, filled with arguments, disputes, and scalpers selling tickets at exorbitant prices.

Xiao Ma swore to himself that he had been deceived by bourgeois literary youths in the past; the notion that white people possessed high civic virtue and order was a complete myth. This scene was no different from domestic tourist attractions during major national holidays, and perhaps even worse.

Back home, holding a VIP invitation and sitting in the VIP section would likely incur scorn and accusations of pulling strings or seeking special privileges. But here, it was entirely normal, eliciting only attention and respect because this was their tradition and culture—privilege capitalism. Had the Soviet army not been kept out, this tradition might have changed.

Britain was not a culture of gastronomy, but a culture of hats.

The only interesting aspect of this occasion was that it resembled a hat exhibition. Celebrities and socialites alike wore traditional hats without exception. The ladies' hats looked acceptable enough, but as for the men's, Xiao Ma thought they looked as though they were wearing tiny chamber pots on their heads.

This event did not survive on sponsorships alone, but a multitude of fashion brands inevitably participated and sponsored it. For instance, the outfit Knightley wore today was sponsored by a major luxury label. For her, coming here was an opportunity for exposure and entertainment, but it also constituted work, for which she was well-paid.

Similarly, the hats worn by the princes and princesses were sponsored by a certain milliner. This was tradition, or objectively speaking, an alternative multi-level marketing model. Once fueled by hype and fame, these items transformed into luxury goods, enticing other wealthy nouveau riche individuals to flock and participate. This was the fundamental nature and model behind luxury brands like Hermès. It was merely a high-end form of MLM, yet it genuinely possessed a market. One only had to recall how Prince William's wedding—which could only be described as that of a broke loser—garnered twenty billion views of its videos and related reports worldwide to realize that there were always plenty of fools in this world and never enough swindlers. In comparison, domestic female literary youths and bourgeois hipsters were actually a relatively less foolish bunch.

This perspective did not originally belong to Xiao Ma, but was something Yu Chengmin had remarked upon during a casual chat. With the air of a technician at the time, she had stated, "This is an objective analysis of a business model."

Yu Chengmin's offhand remark was verified right here. No wonder wealthy people rarely wore branded items. No wonder this occasion was saturated with countless advertising sponsorships and celebrities appearing in sponsored apparel.

Sitting in Knightley's car, they crawled slowly through the congested crowds while waiting to enter.

Feng Chenchen was deeply moved by the scene and said to Xiao Ma, "Being here reminds me of Ni Feihong. She used to come every year to absorb perspectives and definitions regarding 'fashion,' and besides, the autumn issue always featured a spread on 'hats.' Now, feeling like things remain while the people are gone, I wonder if she'll even show up."

Xiao Ma's expression turned slightly peculiar as well...

In another car, Lee Hyori and several British aristocratic playboys were far from happy. Cutting in line was impossible here; with people everywhere, the vehicle could only inch forward by rubbing past the pedestrians.

Besides, cutting in line was simply out of the question for them. Just as the female customs officer at the airport had said, once privilege was confirmed, it was strictly stratified.

Suddenly, the mouths of the playboys in the car dropped into an "O" shape as they stared fixedly out the window.

An Oriental beauty with an exceptional figure and temperament was walking past, overtaking their car amidst the crowd and heading forward.

Lee Hyori grew displeased once more, a hint of disdain coloring her tone as she muttered, "Slut, wearing clothes that don't match at all, putting on airs of individuality. And she dared brush past my car?"

In truth, she cared nothing for the car; she was merely resentful that the dead woman's figure and temperament were so superior, and equally annoyed by the spineless attitude of the two playboys in the car.

Uncle Hua, sitting in the front passenger seat, smiled and said, "I know this woman. She is Ni Feihong, the former editor-in-chief of *The Glamour*. I ran into her recently when her company was acquiring related businesses in Hong Kong."

Lee Hyori also read *The Glamour*, every single issue. To a certain extent, Ni Feihong was the one who implanted the mindset of what to wear into the minds of wealthy people like her. This was why major brands paid hefty sums to secure spreads with Ni Feihong.

Hearing this, Lee Hyori froze for a moment. Come to think of it, even she, Lee Hyori, was a fan of Ni Feihong.

However, still nursing her anger, Lee Hyori retorted, "I see. Just a low-level wage earner. Didn't I hear she was ousted?"

Uncle Hua shook his head. "It's not that simple. I heard she took her entire team and merged directly under Xu Meihui's umbrella. It must have been a massive deal."

Xu Meihui was one of Qiu Hongwen's people. Upon hearing this, Lee Hyori did not dare call Xu Meihui a loser anymore and fell silent...

***

They finally made it inside, entering the secondary VIP viewing stand alongside Knightley.

They ran into another group coming their way—none other than Lee Hyori and those British playboys.

It was difficult to ignore them.

"It's these wretches again. You can run into these nouveau riche everywhere," Lee Hyori muttered as she passed by, making no effort to conceal her contempt.

The two playboys had wanted to pick a fight and humiliate these people yesterday, and they wanted to do the same today. However, they were also puzzled: why were these people hanging out with Knightley today?

Thus, after casting a mere glance at Xiao Ma, the two playboys quickly followed behind Lee Hyori.

The VIP section was not overly noisy, free from the harassment of others, and stocked with fine wines.

Lee Hyori removed her expensive hat, poured a generous glass of fine wine, took an elegant sip, and then cast a hesitant glance back in that direction.

"I don't know what's wrong with these people. Could they be deliberately following us with some ulterior motive?" Lee Hyori muttered to herself.

The grandson of the last Governor of Hong Kong, whose name was Carrington, glanced toward Xiao Ma's side and said, "Looks to me like they're deliberately trying to stir something up, but this is a public place, and there are fairly prominent figures sitting over there. Don't worry, afterwards I'll have a few guys thoroughly check these Chinese fellows. Let them know who's in charge."

Lee Hyori nodded slightly. At that moment, a prized horse made its appearance on the field, handled by a high-profile jockey. It was precisely the horse that had been gifted to Deputy Director Oliver yesterday. Seeing this scene filled her with a sense of accomplishment. She felt that among the younger generation of her family, she was the only one truly adept at handling matters.

Uncle Hua, known for his prudence, frowned slightly, sensing something was amiss though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He merely felt that the temperament and sneering expressions of these young folks were problematic.

Glancing over there once more, Uncle Hua vaguely felt that this group was also somewhat off; ordinary nouveau riche wouldn't be found everywhere like them, nor would they be sitting next to Knightley...

By chance, Xiao Ma spotted Ni Feihong and wanted to go over and greet her, but helplessly, the event had basically started, and Ni Feihong was also "working," walking around taking pictures with her camera.

Consequently, Xiao Ma decided to let her be in peace and chose not to disturb her. With a somewhat eccentric mindset, he thought: *If we are destined to meet, we will cross paths again.*

For some inexplicable reason, Xiao Ma was having fewer neurotic episodes lately, and had somehow acquired a touch of poetic sentiment.

Ever since he studied the script of *Sword Immortal Must Die* with the female tyrant, this poetic attribute seemed to have been unlocked and activated.

Whether the Demon King was a poet was impossible to say, but given his intelligence, when he chose to study something, he pursued it to the absolute extreme—a kind of extreme bordering on the pathological.

Ni Feihong had once said that pathology also possessed an aesthetic, only it was harder to master the degree. Ordinary literary youths seemed mentally unhinged simply because they never reached the extreme; they were merely half-baked counterfeits who achieved the form without the spirit.

Ahem, hastily shaking his head, Xiao Ma found his thoughts running wild every time he saw Big Honghong, which left him utterly speechless.

Hurriedly putting thoughts of Big Honghong aside, he leaned closer to Feng Chenchen and said, "I have an idea. After this project, you might as well direct *Sword Immortal Must Die*. It has to be a Xianxia grand production on the scale of *The Lord of the Rings*."

"We can do that!" Feng Chenchen grinned from ear to ear.

She currently possessed the exact mindset of someone who had just obtained a driver's license and wanted to drive everything in sight; she wanted to film any movie that crossed her mind.

Her luck had truly turned around. Right now, she was head over heels in love with Brother Ma. It was just that with Knightley and Zeng Xiaoxian present, she felt too embarrassed to give him a passionate kiss.

***

So, putting on a composed expression, she nodded. "Afterwards, we can discuss the script's direction in detail. It has to be your ideas and your guidance for me to have any confidence."

Sensing they were discussing filmmaking, Knightley leaned closer to Feng Chenchen. "Is Director Feng discussing a project?"

Feng Chenchen beamed with boundless smugness, radiating the aura of a true master director as she nodded slightly. "A new idea is brewing. *Sword Immortal Must Die* is the next plan on the agenda."

*What?*

Knightley couldn't fathom why the Sword Saint *must* die.

Yet, upon second thought, it made complete sense. For instance, in *Game of Thrones*, characters—whether courting death or not—met mysterious, unexpected demises one after another, and the show became a massive hit. Incredible! Director Feng truly possessed extraordinary talent. Perhaps her intention in having the Sword Saint die was the same as Uncle Martin's writing off all the dragonriders' dragons.

Hearing that it was a production on the scale of *The Lord of the Rings*, Knightley showed intense interest. "Then Director Feng, let's chat about it specifically another time."

Feng Chenchen was currently floating on cloud nine...

Carrington had left Lee Hyori's side, claiming he was going to the restroom. In truth, with his lecherous nature, he had noticed Ni Feihong sitting alone in the secondary section. He wanted to walk past her and see if there was an opportunity to make her acquaintance.

Lee Hyori was watching the horse racing while glancing around, wondering why Deputy Director Oliver hadn't appeared yet. She paid no attention to Carrington's departure.

That worked out perfectly. The departure of the annoying Carrington made it convenient for the other so-called "judge" to be alone with Lee Hyori. His name was Mason.

Mason was intentionally chatting with Lee Hyori when he noticed her distracted gaze wandering about.

A middle-aged British woman happened to walk by. Just as Mason pointed outward, intending to expose Carrington's little tricks, his hand accidentally collided with the middle-aged woman's.

The middle-aged woman was holding a glass of red wine, which splashed out, spilling all over Lee Hyori.

"Are you blind?!"

Seeing her expensive clothes ruined, Lee Hyori's temper flared. She sprang up abruptly to interrogate the middle-aged woman.

Lee Hyori wasn't fuming over the cost of the clothes; she simply had that kind of temper by nature. She would mock others even when unprovoked, let alone when someone actually wronged her—especially since she was waiting to meet Deputy Director Oliver and couldn't afford to look a mess.

The middle-aged woman narrowed her eyes at Lee Hyori without uttering a single word.

This commotion instantly drew the surrounding gazes toward them.