Chapter 102 - 101
She had long since become an A-list actress; how could she stoop to playing a third-female-lead role?
Nora Nash’s expression was stiff as she endured the crew’s subtle, strange glances.
No matter how furious she felt, she didn’t dare let it show on her face. Otherwise, filming the next scenes would be a nightmare.
She couldn’t help but regret listening to that person, which had completely ruined her public appeal.
Even on the set of a famous director, the food wasn’t much better than on any other.
Joanna Kennedy wasn’t filming in Aethelburg this time, so she couldn’t enjoy Simon Lockwood’s cooking. She was a little disappointed about that.
On top of that, her role was a frail, sickly, and unloved princess, so she had to maintain a slender figure and couldn’t indulge in delicious food.
During their video call that night, she complained to Simon Lockwood that the food was so bland she couldn’t find a single speck of meat.
Simon Lockwood stared at the girl’s delicate face on the screen, his lips pressing into a thin line.
It had only been a few days, and the little bit of healthy weight she had managed to put on her cheeks was already gone.
"Simon Lockwood, I miss you..." the girl cooed, drawing out the words in a soft whine.
Simon Lockwood felt his heart soften as if it were soaking in warm water, but before he could offer a few tender words of his own...
...the girl swallowed and added, "I miss your cooking."
Simon Lockwood: "..."
All that affection, wasted.
"How far are you on memorizing your classical texts? Have you done your math problems? Do you have a grasp of ancient, modern, and contemporary history?"
The man’s expression was impassive, his tone stern and merciless.
Joanna Kennedy: "..."
She angrily hung up the video call and sat down at her desk in resignation. "...*A Midnight Farewell by the River*..."
Two days later, Julie mysteriously brought over a thermal container. "Ta-da! Guess what this is!"
Dressed in an elaborate princess costume, Joanna Kennedy was studying her script. Without even glancing at the container that had suddenly appeared before her, she asked listlessly, "What is it?"
Julie slowly twisted open the lid, and the fragrant aroma of pork rib soup that wafted out instantly revived Joanna Kennedy’s spirits.
Her eyes lit up. "Did you get this for me?"
Julie quickly shook her head. "Of course not."
Her expression was full of envy, her tone a little wistful. "I’m going to find myself a boyfriend who can make soup, too."
’She knew she’d never find a domineering CEO who was rich, powerful, charismatic, handsome, and a good cook, but settling for one who could simply cook was still a possibility.’
’Although that was settling for quite a lot less.’
Joanna Kennedy was stunned for a moment, then it dawned on her. She hugged the thermal container, grinning like an idiot.
After her moment of glee, she offered to pour a bowl for Julie, but Julie refused in a panic, "No, no, no, I won’t have any! I don’t like soup!"
"..."
Julie looked so terrified her eyes might pop out. Joanna Kennedy sighed internally but said with a touch of playful pride, "It’s fine. He made it for me, so it’s mine to share if I want to."
Julie was the one who brought it over; it wouldn’t be right to make her just watch. Joanna Kennedy wasn’t that possessive about her food.
Seeing her insistence, Julie had no choice but to hand over a bowl. The rich aroma made her swallow, and she said, contradicting her own desires, "Just a little is fine. I can’t drink much... I really can’t..."
It was a three-hour drive from Aethelburg to the set, six hours for a round trip, yet the pork rib soup was still hot. Joanna Kennedy marveled at the thermal container’s effectiveness.
After finishing a full bowl of pork rib soup—eating the meat, gnawing on the corn, and even savoring a few matsutake mushrooms—Julie felt utterly satisfied. She then broached a sensitive topic. "By the way, Jojo, you said Mr. Lockwood looked down on you for your lack of education, but he seems so good to you."
He even had someone deliver homemade soup from so far away.
Caught off guard by a serious question about a white lie she had told, Joanna Kennedy nearly choked. She forced herself to answer, "You don’t get it. Him looking down on me and him being good to me are two completely different things."
Julie: "?"
Joanna Kennedy added, offering her "proof," "He still makes me study every night. He won’t even let me rest."
Julie: "???"
’I don’t get it.’
’Oh well. As long as Mr. Lockwood is good to Jojo, that’s all that matters. No need to overthink it.’
「Auction in Calypsos」
On the softly lit stage, an auctioneer in a qipao unveiled the first item, presenting it to the numerous buyers below.
"Our first lot is the *Lotus Orderly Summer Painting*, a work by Julian Gardner from the Baroque Era. The starting bid is 10,000."
With a sharp rap of the gavel, members of the audience began to place their bids.
Simon Lockwood sat in the front row, his expression impassive, showing no intention of bidding.
The auction was privately hosted by a wealthy businessman from Calypsos, and most of the attendees were the city’s local elite.
Simon Lockwood had no interest in this kind of auction, but Sean Grant had insisted on coming after hearing that a piece of Royal Noir Ink would be on the block.
In a few days, the patriarch of the Grant Family would be celebrating his eightieth birthday. In his later years, the old man had taken to enjoying calligraphy and gardening, so Sean Grant planned to buy the inkstick as a gift.
Finding the prospect of a tedious auction unbearable to face alone, he had dragged along Simon Lockwood, who was currently lingering in Calypsos for a certain someone.
Simon Lockwood, annoyed by Sean’s pestering, had considered that Jack Warren was stuck working overtime back at the office. Feeling a rare pang of conscience, he had agreed. And so, here he sat.
The *Lotus Orderly Summer Painting* was sold for 1.7 million.
Sean Grant couldn’t help but lean over and mutter, "Can you eat it or use it? It’s just a decoration, something pretty to look at..."
He grumbled on, but hearing no response, he nudged him. "Simon, am I right?"
Without even glancing at him, Simon Lockwood said, "Shut up."
Sean Grant: "..."
A few more items were auctioned off, none of them exceeding a million. When the inkstick was finally presented, Sean Grant sat up, his interest piqued.
"Royal Noir Ink. Starting bid, 10,000."
*CLINK.* The small golden gavel fell.
Sean Grant eagerly moved to raise his paddle, but a single glance from Simon Lockwood stopped him. He calmed down, suppressed his haste, and listened as others started the bidding.
After a few rounds, when most of the bidders had dropped out, he finally raised his paddle. "One million, five hundred twenty thousand."
"One million, five hundred twenty thousand going once, one million five—"
"One million, six hundred thousand," someone else interjected.
Sean Grant followed: "One million, seven hundred thousand."
The other person grew anxious. "One million, eight hundred thousand."
Sean Grant pressed his advantage. "One million, nine hundred thousand."
It wasn’t worth going any higher. The other bidder apparently realized this as well and regretfully withdrew.
Sean Grant successfully won the inkstick for the reasonable price of 1.9 million. Mission accomplished. He finally breathed a sigh of relief.
After a few more insignificant paintings and calligraphies were sold, it was time for the grand finale.
Simon Lockwood, who had been watching with a cool and dispassionate expression, suddenly narrowed his eyes as the red cloth was pulled back. There, under the lights, was a bracelet shimmering with a turquoise halo.
Someone in the crowd let out a gasp of awe.
The auctioneer, pleased with the reaction, gave a thorough introduction before getting to the point. "*Green Sea Agarwood*. The starting bid is 10,000."
The golden gavel struck the block.
Bids started flying in immediately. The competition was fierce, and in no time, the price had already soared to two million.