Samuel Young smiled warmly: “Manager Quinn and I are neighbors, we grew up together. I was a troublemaker since I was a kid, and fighting is what I’m best at. When Mr. Sutton's parents passed away, Manager Quinn often ran into trouble with local thugs. So, I came here to work as a security guard, just on the night shift—during the day, I drive a bus.”

Evelyn Lewis was inexperienced and would get carried away once she started chatting, but Samuel Young was a responsible person; while talking, he kept a constant watch on his surroundings.

In the third-floor dining hall, Yvonne Quinn held a bottle of red wine, showing the label to William Mason. The wine cart beside them was piled high with all kinds of bottles. At this moment, there weren’t many people in the restaurant, and soft music floated gently through the air. William Mason's eyes flickered, while Yvonne Quinn’s expression remained calm.

“This one, then,” William Mason said boldly with a wave of his hand. His eyes flashed as he lowered his voice and asked, “About what I discussed with Manager Quinn last time—have you thought it over?”

Yvonne Quinn trembled slightly, but kept her posture, her gaze drifting as if talking to herself: “Director Mason, I already made my position clear last time—there’s absolutely no way. Please, let’s not talk about this anymore, all right?”

William Mason leaned back heavily, sinking into his chair: “Those people who just went up to the fourth floor, could that be Charlie? He’s back?”

“That’s right, he’s been back for over two months now.”

“When is he leaving?”

“I’m booking the tickets now, planning to go to India in two or three days.” Out on the terrace, Charles Sutton swirled his wine glass thoughtfully and said to Mark Shaw, “You’re planning to perform at the bar? You really don’t have to—I can support you.”

“The elders always say: ‘A singer never leaves their voice, a fighter never leaves their fists.’” Mark Shaw smiled, politely declining Charles Sutton’s offer. “I’ve been performing in the US for years. Now that I’m back in China, if I can build a career here, I don’t plan to leave again.

I need a platform—a stage to show what I can do. That’s why I’m asking for your permission to perform here. I want to start my career in China again, beginning with your place.”

“All right, I’ll make arrangements tomorrow. Hmm, as a singer, I probably can’t afford to pay you much. How about this: you can work here while looking for other gigs, come and go as you please, and you’re always welcome.

Of course, even if you leave, you’re still welcome to stay at The Sutton Yard, rent-free. I owe you a favor—please let me repay it.”

Mark Shaw accepted Charles Sutton’s arrangement without hesitation: “Go ahead and take care of your business. As long as I have a roof over my head, a microphone, and a guitar, that’s enough. By the way, Hagen, thank you for coming to China with me. Are you planning to stay here for a while too?”

Hagen shook his head: “What a coincidence, I’m also planning to go to South Asia. Oh, India sounds like a good choice. Mr. Sutton, may I travel with you?”

Charles Sutton nodded, pretending to be pleased: “Great! I was planning to stay for three days, and once you’re settled, I’ll fly to India. That way, I can catch tomorrow afternoon’s flight. Is it convenient for you to leave tomorrow afternoon?”

In the third-floor restaurant, Yvonne Quinn slowly poured wine for William Mason. Amid the gentle music, the blood-red wine silently filled the Czech crystal glass.

“Director Mason, tell me, do you think I’m a beautiful woman?” Yvonne Quinn asked softly.

William Mason choked on his cigarette and didn’t answer.

Yvonne Quinn answered herself, continuing, “Look, even if it’s just flattery, I can’t really be called a pretty woman. I think I look ordinary—on the street, if I brushed past someone, no one would notice someone as plain as me.

So, am I a smart woman? …No, I’m not clever at all. Mr. Sutton tells me the names, origins, and characteristics of a few wines, and I have to memorize them for hours, but I still often forget.

I don’t have a distinguished family background. My parents are workers, living entirely on their pensions. My younger brother is idle, and my parents often rely on me for support.

I don’t have a high degree; I graduated from a third-rate, ordinary university. If I threw my diploma out on the street, no one would pick it up. If I tried to find a job with this diploma, who would hire me? Would you, Director Mason?

I’m average in every way. If I lose my loyalty too, what would set me apart from the crowd?

Director Mason, tell me, for someone like me—a woman who has nothing left but ‘loyalty’ to rely on—what price would make me choose betrayal?”

Chapter 6 The Boss Ran Away

When Yvonne Quinn said this, her mind was completely immersed in memories.

She remembered Charles Sutton’s father’s expectations for her, remembered Grandpa Sutton’s dying words after the car accident; she remembered her own inner struggle at that moment; she remembered her confusion when she heard that the plane carrying Charles Sutton to the funeral had crashed.

She remembered so much, including all the hardships she endured to hold on to this business for Charles Sutton.

All of it was for that promise.

Yvonne Quinn was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice the changes in William Mason’s expression.

The music was still drifting softly. William Mason finally regained his composure. He threw down his knife and fork, drained the wine Yvonne Quinn had poured him in one gulp, and said with a cold laugh, “Old Sutton had a good eye, I have to admit… All right, I may be a man of the underworld, but I know how rare trust and loyalty are. For your sake, I’ll let Little Charles go. Let’s just leave it at that.”