novelraw Chapter 760: Broadway, Entering a Dream
Chapter 760: Broadway, Entering a Dream
Eastern Time, December 19.
30 Hudson Yards.
The entire conference center was tense and operating with high-efficiency combat readiness.
If yesterday’s meeting had been a grand strategic exposition, then today’s resolution session was a jaw-dropping lightning strike.
Director Jin had fully returned to her usual razor-sharp form.
She delivered high-density output the whole way through.
They rested for less than an hour at noon, and after a quick business meal the meeting immediately resumed.
As the meeting chair, Director Jin gave no one the chance to dilly-dally.
Her laser pointer swept across the holographic projection, rapidly laying out one grand and precise five-year strategic plan after another, and tossing out resource restructuring schemes for each major subsidiary and branch with blinding speed and decisive tone.
From the North America supply chain restructuring, to upgraded tax compliance in Europe, to aggressive expansion in the Asia-Pacific...Even the most important decision—the North American AI industry investment involving hundreds of billions of dollars in capital—was passed without dispute, swiftly.
The shareholder representatives present could hardly find any foothold for rebuttal.
A few representatives raised objections or questions, but she answered them with a few concise, pain-point-puncturing sentences, even carrying a “do we really need to ask this?” pressure.
This was the rule of The GoldenSmile.
Before absolute logic and performance, any dissent looked pale and powerless.
“Since there are no further questions, that concludes today’s agenda.”
Secretary Jin stood, her long figure particularly poised and icy under the projector’s beams.
She closed her file and swept her gaze across the room.
“Dismiss.”
Two short words, spoken with gravity.
The clock on the wall had just struck 2:30 p.m.
The entire day’s agenda had finished a full four hours early.
A slight stir ran through the room, the released exhale after taut nerves relaxed.
Everyone rose and respectfully inclined their heads toward the podium before filing out.
No one dared to waste words.
In fact, this was Ms. Smile’s normal method of operation.
If it hadn’t been to accommodate subsidiary reports, with her style these meetings could end in half a day.
The vast conference hall emptied.
After the last shareholder representative left,
only the core circle remained.
Secretary Jin turned, but she did not look at Tang Song first.
She glanced sideways, her gaze coolly sweeping over Lin Muxue and Shen Yuyan standing nearby.
Finally she instructed Sarah: “Sarah, take Shirley and Luna downstairs to prepare materials for a closed-door debrief in one hour. I’ve opened the core database permissions, have them familiarize themselves with the process.”
Her tone was steady and non-negotiable.
“Yes!” Sarah responded immediately.
Lin Muxue and Shen Yuyan exchanged a look, afraid to ask questions.
By a woman’s sixth sense, they vaguely felt Director Jin was clearing the room.
She ended the meeting early and sent everyone away in order to monopolize Tang Song.
As the heavy doors slowly closed,
only the two of them remained in the vast space.
Tang Song looked at Secretary Jin, his pupils shifting slightly.
From the moment she woke up today she had been different.
She had been coordinating with assistants early in the morning, even ate without a break, operating with decisive, meticulous efficiency all the way through.
That subtle, omnipresent control made her emit an intoxicating charm.
His gaze slipped down without control, landing on her legs.
Today she wore neat straight-cut slacks, the hems hanging cleanly, and she wasn’t wearing stockings.
There hadn’t been time during the short business lunch to massage her legs back at the office.
Regrettable, certainly.
At that moment Secretary Jin suddenly turned and caught Tang Song looking at her legs.
A half-smile tugged at her mouth, teasing in her eyes.
Tang Song awkwardly withdrew his gaze;
luckily with the costume effect active, he still kept his gentlemanly composure.
“President Tang.”
Secretary Jin broke the silence, her voice businesslike and cool yet carrying a intimacy only he could hear:
“You don’t seem to have properly toured Smile Holdings’ North American headquarters yet? This was officially opened in 2020.”
“Yes,” Tang Song nodded.
Secretary Jin closed her file, lifted her chin slightly, and offered an invitation: “As an important shareholder representative, I think you should understand the situation here. May I have the honor of being your guide?”
Tang Song smiled: “Of course, it’s my honor.”
They left the conference hall side by side.
Smile Holdings didn’t occupy only this floor;
it took up four whole premium floors of the skyscraper.
The total office area exceeded ten thousand square meters.
In the huge open-plan office gathered nearly a thousand elite talents from around the globe.
The full-height glass curtain wall turned the Hudson River and Manhattan skyline into a natural backdrop.
Along the way, employees paused—whether phone-barking traders racing against time or legal teams discussing M&
A—when they saw the pair walking together. They instinctively stopped, lowered their heads respectfully and greeted: “Director Jin, Mr. Tang.”
Secretary Jin seemed to enjoy patrolling alongside him.
She deliberately slowed her pace, keeping half a step’s distance, occasionally turning to introduce department functions and achievements with concise, forceful language.
Her tone radiated a strong confidence and sense of control.
Her eyes, however, showed a liveliness that only appeared in front of Tang Song.
After the tour, when they returned to the executive lounge on the 86th floor,
half an hour had passed.
Tang Song stopped and looked at Secretary Jin: “Director Jin, your efficiency is still astonishing today. It’s only a little after three—do you have plans for the afternoon?”
He felt certain her unusual behavior meant she had other intentions.
Secretary Jin leaned against the bar by the window, arms folded.
Afternoon sunlight gilded the side of her face, softening even the disciplined strands of hair.
“Of course.”
“Oh?” Tang Song raised an eyebrow and leaned in, smelling the cold, high-end perfume she wore, lowering his voice: “I wonder if I’m included in those plans?”
Secretary Jin did not answer directly. She turned and picked up her handbag: “Let’s go, Mr. Tang.”
In the underground parking garage, Liu Jiayi was already waiting by the car.
Seeing the pair, she bowed respectfully: “President Tang, Director Jin.”
Tang Song opened the rear door in gentlemanly fashion: “Director Jin, please get in.”
Secretary Jin smiled and sat in the back seat.
Tang Song sat opposite her from the other side.
“Bang, bang.”
Doors closed one by one.
The black armored sedan started smoothly, leaving Hudson Yards and merging into the busy Manhattan traffic.
As the divider rose between front and rear and the one-way privacy film took effect, the back seat instantly became a private moving space.
Tang Song glanced at Secretary Jin beside him.
She still wore the deep-gray high-end suit.
Her collar was neat, her posture dignified, giving off an untouchable, ascetic aura.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll know when we arrive,” Secretary Jin said lightly.
She then took a shopping bag from beside her, opened it, and pulled out two casual outfits—
a soft wool sweater and a structured outercoat.
She placed the clothes directly on Tang Song’s lap.
“Could you hold these for me, President Tang?”
After saying so, she raised her hand and began to undo the buttons of her suit jacket, much to Tang Song’s astonishment.
Tang Song: “emm...?”
(0_0)!
Is she going to change in the car?
Is this appropriate?
Secretary Jin paid no mind to his stare. Her movements were graceful and natural as she took off her suit jacket, revealing the silk blouse underneath.
Then her hand reached for the collar.
As each button came undone, the once-tight, disciplined silk blouse gradually peeled away, slipping down over her rounded shoulders.
The light filtered through the one-way glass grew dim and intimate.
In that half-light, broad swathes of porcelain-like skin hinted at a luminous glow.
The edge of black lace lingerie traced out full, perky curves.
With her breath, the rise and fall sent dizzying ripples through the air.
Her movements were not rushed;
she carried a composed slowness.
Each lift of her arm showed a smooth, elegant line, and over her slim waist, the tight shadow of abdominal muscles under the lace hinted at a wild beauty.
In the cramped, enclosed, moving space,
this near, almost within-reach visual impact was more intense and lethal than any intentional seduction.
Tang Song’s breathing grew rapid;
the air seemed saturated with ignited hormones.
To maintain his public persona, he instinctively looked away toward the window.
But the corner of his eye remained honest and magnetically drawn to her.
Secretary Jin turned her head, slipped on the soft wool sweater leisurely, and glanced at him.
In her calm, rational eyes a ripple of light flickered: “President Tang, if you want to look, you can look openly.”
As the sweater settled, the teasing vision was covered again.
Hearing her mischievous provocation, Tang Song turned and looked at her, his gaze deep and sincere:
“Director Jin, you are truly captivating. I think no man can resist your charm.”
“Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Tang.”
Secretary Jin smiled faintly, adjusted a stray lock of hair with a casual hand, her eyes full of warmth.
...
15:40
SoHo, Manhattan.
The black Maybach eased to a stop on a cobblestone street.
When they stepped out of the car,
the icy, rational Director Jin was gone.
In her place stood a fashionable woman in a beige cashmere sweater, a dark casual coat, a black face mask, with only bright eyes showing.
She looked relaxed and yet mysteriously high-end.
She matched Tang Song unexpectedly well.
December wind bit the New York street, but SoHo’s cast-iron architecture and eclectic fashion storefronts gave the area heat and artistic energy.
There was no coppery smell of Wall Street, no tourist clamor of Times Square.
Only red brick facades, avant-garde galleries, boutique shops, and stylish New Yorkers filled the streets.
They blended into the bustling crowds side by side.
Secretary Jin didn’t cling like a young girl;
instead she casually looped her arm through Tang Song’s.
They moved like an ordinary middle-class couple, wandering aimlessly between Prince and Spring Streets.
They paused at an ACNE Studios display to comment on designs and fumbled with odd art objects in the MoMA Design Store.
The wind blew, and the smile on Secretary Jin’s face rarely faded.
Over an hour later,
when they walked out of a designer streetwear shop, their vibe shifted again.
Secretary Jin had changed into a puffy, shiny short down jacket, straight-leg jeans, and white sneakers.
Her long hair was tied up and hidden under a deep-blue NY cap.
Youthful, energetic, and a touch dashing.
Tang Song had also adopted a coordinated outfit.
They looked like a ridiculously attractive study-abroad couple walking the street.
When they passed a trendy bakery called Dominique Ansel Bakery,
Secretary Jin stopped, her eyes lighting up.
Tang Song understood and queued to buy a freshly made cronut and two cups of steaming Valrhona hot chocolate.
They stood against a red brick wall at the corner, sheltered from the wind.
Secretary Jin pulled down her mask and bit into the crispy, flaky pastry, frosting dusting the corner of her mouth.
She sipped hot chocolate and looked at Tang Song, whose fog-effect had faded and whose features were vivid.
She squinted with satisfaction and exhaled a plume of white air.
In her mind flashed a memory from years ago of her standing in a corner spying on Tang Song and Liu Qingning on a date.
Back then she felt confused, puzzled, and even a little amused.
So this was the feeling.
The brief time together after leaving Times Square last night had already given her a taste.
Today, she had deliberately reserved so much time, even compressing meeting schedules, and it had not disappointed.
It felt even more delightful than she had imagined a thousand times and even more satisfying than her first big profit in the securities market.
She loved the feeling.
At this moment, it was the most wonderful thing in the world.
.......
18:00
Night had fully fallen, streetlights painting the city a warm, amber glow.
They returned to the warm Maybach with chilled bodies and full hearts.
Tang Song looked at Secretary Jin’s cheeks flushed from the cold and reached to take off her cap, tidying the tousled hair.
“Tired?”
“Yes.” Secretary Jin nodded. Though physically weary and leaning into the seat, she looked unusually relaxed.
“So where to next? Somewhere for dinner, or back to the hotel to rest?”
Secretary Jin chuckled quietly and took an envelope from the rear storage compartment.
She placed it gently on the table in front of Tang Song, tapping it with long fingers.
“After all those sweets, dinner can wait. But this can’t be late.”
Tang Song opened the envelope.
Inside were two VIP box tickets for Broadway.
Show: Chicago
Venue: Ambassador Theatre
Time: 19:00
Secretary Jin glanced at him: “I heard the female lead Roxie will do whatever it takes for fame and uses every trick to court attention. I thought we should go and criticize it.”
She smiled lightly, raising her tone: “Right, Mr. Tang?”
Tang Song nodded without expression: “I’ve long been curious about Broadway theater—I do want to see it.”
Secretary Jin dropped the risky topic and looked at the passing night outside.
The Maybach glided forward.
At that moment,
a crisp system notification sounded in Tang Song’s ear:
“Ding! Congratulations, player, special task Warm Guy’s Intensive Training completed.”
“You gained reward: Durability +30.”
“Little Raincoat felt *Chubby?*’s pain and *Lele?*’s persistence. Although you, the warm guy, were absent from the live guidance and participation was insufficient, you remotely arranged cold-faced stern sister? Xiao Qi? and scheming pervert? Xiao Jing? to conduct additional supervision and mixed double-punishment. The effect was outstanding.”
“Little Raincoat is very satisfied and grants an extra reward.”
“You received additional rewards: Stamina +1, Durability +10.”
(Durability: 40/40)
Tang Song brightened.
He’d almost forgotten. Calculating time, it was Wednesday morning in Yancheng now.
A week had passed since Lele began Professor Jiang’s “devil training.”
Because he’d been abroad these days busy with manor acceptance and the shareholders’ meeting, he hadn’t paid close attention and could only occasionally urge things on WeChat.
Unexpectedly, Liu Jiayi and Xiao Jing’s intervention had inadvertently hit Little Raincoat’s pleasure point.
Still, days without Little Raincoat were hard.
He’d already become dependent.
His phone vibrated, the screen lighting up.
[Lele: scale.jpg]
[Lele: “Brother! Task complete! Professor Jiang’s special training is finished! Just weighed in, successfully lost 3.8 kg! Professor Jiang’s weight is now under 60 kg, she looks completely renewed!”]
Tang Song’s mouth quirked. He replied quickly: “Good job, Lele. Great work. I’ll give you a reward when I return.”
[Lele: [picture]]
[Lele: “Here’s a photo of Professor Jiang now—doesn’t she look much thinner?”]
Tang Song opened the full image.
In the photo, Jiang Yourong wore a tight sports tank and yoga pants, seemingly just having finished morning exercise, sweat still clinging to her.
Losing nearly eight jin was noticeable.
Her previously rounded chin had sharpened, a clear jawline defining a delicate profile, collarbones pronounced, projecting a healthy beauty.
Most crucially,
although her weight dropped, her chest had not reduced under the tight clothes;
because her waist was slimmer, her curves appeared even more dramatic.
Tang Song glanced a few times, exited the picture viewer, replied a couple more sentences, and quickly put his phone away.
Secretary Jin was beside him, after all—Professor Jiang had been arranged by her.
He couldn’t let her know about this perverse weight-loss task;
otherwise his persona would collapse and he’d become as much a pervert as Little Raincoat.
...
Not long after, the surrounding bustle grew louder and neon lights became denser and brighter.
Through the thick soundproof car windows, one could almost feel the wave of heat and vitality surging in.
This was Broadway.
It was the throbbing heart of New York at night.
The car stopped steadily in front of the Ambassador Theatre on 44th Street.
The huge golden sign shimmered in the night.
Secretary Jin pulled down her deep-blue cap brim, hiding most of her face and exposing only a refined jawline.
She then stepped out gracefully.
A cold yet lively air swept in.
She glanced back at him, hands in her down jacket pockets, and walked toward the theater doors.
Horns, chatter, and street saxophone blended into a chaotic, intoxicating urban symphony.
Against that noisy backdrop her silhouette became the single focus.
Her puffy white short down jacket glowed softly under neon, making her upper body look round and cute.
Yet as she walked, the perfect heart-shaped curve of her hips appeared and disappeared.
Confident, relaxed, and sexy.
She looked like a modern woman who had just left the office to enjoy nightlife.
As VIPs they avoided the main crowd at the entrance.
Guided by a red-uniformed usher, they took a carpeted side passage and entered the century-old Ambassador Theatre directly.
The urban symphony vanished instantly.
In its place came the theater’s hush and solemnity.
The usher led them to a VIP private box on the second floor with the best view.
It was a semi-enclosed space with a few large vintage velvet armchairs projecting above the audience and facing the center of the stage.
It guaranteed an excellent sightline while providing privacy.
Secretary Jin unzipped and handed her down coat to the usher.
Underneath she wore a fitted black turtleneck that hugged her upper curves.
She sat down elegantly, crossing her legs.
As the heavy coat came off, the mature woman’s charm immediately diffused.
Tang Song sat beside her.
Their chairs were very close, arms almost brushing sleeves.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the show will begin shortly. Enjoy the performance.”
The usher bowed slightly and left.
Lights dimmed across the theater.
The once-noisy audience fell silent.
A spotlight ignited on stage.
A lazy, highly seductive drumbeat began—All That Jazz.
Dancers in black fishnet stockings and skintight outfits writhed to the rhythm, limbs entwined, exuding raw, primal seduction.
Secretary Jin watched the stage intently;
the stage lights reflected in her eyes.
Tang Song’s gaze, however, kept drifting to her.
Darkness amplified the senses.
He could smell her faint cool perfume, see the graceful silhouette of her profile in the dim light, and watch her fingers lightly tapping to the music.
“Is this what you brought me to criticize?” Tang Song leaned close and whispered, his warm breath against her ear.
Secretary Jin didn’t turn, only angled her face, eyes still fixed on the stage, a faint curve at her mouth: “What? Mr. Tang, don’t you like this style?”
“I do.”
Tang Song’s hand quietly slipped over and forced itself into her interlaced fingers, squeezing tight.
“But I like watching you more.”
Secretary Jin turned and looked at him deeply.
In the weak reflected light her eyes shone bright, a trace of challenge and a touch of expectation.
Tang Song said nothing further.
He leaned forward and under the cover of roaring jazz kissed her lips.
On stage the jazz roared like fire.
In the private box it was their own world.
The kiss wasn’t hurried, but it brimmed with possessiveness.
After a long moment their lips slowly parted.
Tang Song did not pull away. His lips traveled down her smooth jaw.
Warm breath fanned on the most sensitive skin of her neck, raising tiny goosebumps.
“Mm...”
Secretary Jin’s body trembled slightly, making a soft sound that dissolved into the blaring brass.
She did not resist;
in the dark she slightly tilted her head back, exposing a fragile, beautiful neck line.
Tang Song continued.
His lips and teeth traced and teased the slender neck and delicate collarbones.
An indescribable satisfaction filled him.
Secretary Jin gripped the velvet armrest.
From the tumble of brown hair, her exquisite profile flushed a soft red, though dim lighting kept it subtle.
......
21:30, the performance ended.
When they stepped out of the theater and back into the Maybach’s private cabin, Secretary Jin had regained her usual cold composure.
The earlier teasing and flirtation seemed to have been tucked away with the musical.
“Home?” Tang Song asked.
“Yes.” Secretary Jin leaned back, eyes half-closed, voice languid: “We have meetings tomorrow;
we should rest early.”
Tang Song nodded and said nothing more.
They returned to The T.J. Suite at the Plaza Hotel.
Once inside, Secretary Jin kicked off her white sneakers without concern for image.
Her feet in white sports socks sank into the dark Persian carpet, looking completely at ease.
She removed her cap and let dense brown curls cascade like a waterfall, hiding half her profile.
“President Tang, I’m exhausted. I’ll sleep in the master bedroom upstairs first, okay?”
“No problem.” Tang Song nodded.
That room was essentially her bedroom;
the walk-in closet mostly contained her clothes.
“Alright then. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Secretary Jin didn’t linger and turned to go up the spiral staircase.
Tang Song watched her retreating figure disappear around the turn.
He thought he noticed her steps were a little hurried, as if she were rushing to do something important.
He returned to the spare bedroom downstairs.
After taking off his clothes and a quick shower, he changed into comfortable pajamas and lay in the large bed.
Scenes from the day played in his mind like a film.
SoHo cronut, the in-car outfit change, the tightness across denim in the private box.
He smiled and felt wide awake.
With his physique and various attribute boosts, plus the male-god halo effect, his energy far exceeded an ordinary person’s;
a short, deep sleep restored him completely.
Tang Song opened the system interface.
He habitually scanned personal attributes and the mission center,
then focused on Character Center.
His gaze was immediately drawn to a single gilded card in the center.
It was the only UR-level card.
He mentally clicked it.
[Character Details]
[Secretary Jin (UR)]
[Status: Sage Time...Satisfied]
[Location: The Plaza Hotel.map]
[Special Skill: Dream Link (Passive, currently unavailable)]
[Height: 170 cm, Weight: 52 kg, Age: 28]
[Base Attributes: Unknown]
[Skills: Unknown, Growth: 100/100]
[Overall Rating: 100]
[Character Evaluation: Possesses top-tier intelligence, stunning beauty, and perfect execution...]
[Permissions: Player has obtained Dream Link, WeChat, phone and other communication permissions;
may communicate freely, but actions must not affect character charm rating (character interaction mission in progress...)]
[Hint: Continue to raise charm rating, complete character interaction tasks in the real world to unlock more permissions]
...
Tang Song skimmed it, then his eyes snagged on the second line as if he’d discovered something explosive.
His brain buzzed.
[Status: Sage Time...Satisfied]
Tang Song bolted upright in bed, incredulous.
“Secretary Jin... you, you’re this kind of person?!”
He reflexively looked toward the ceiling as if his eyes could pierce floorboards and peek into the master bedroom upstairs to witness passionate scenes.
“Wait! She specifically said she’d sleep in the master bedroom upstairs—could it be because I used to sleep there?”
“What the—?!”
Tang Song’s mouth went dry and a heat rose from his belly.
This extreme contrast triggered a psychological thrill beyond words!
As he stared at that line and filled in the scene in his head,
the status bar on the interface flickered and changed.
[Status: Sage Time ->
Light Sleep Entering Dream...]
[Special Skill: Dream Link (Passive, now activated)]
Seeing the Dream Link button light up, Tang Song’s breathing quickened.
He had never used this skill in the real world.
After the skill awakened, he and Secretary Jin had reunited and were sleeping next to each other.
He had avoided using it before, fearing persona collapse in dreams and damaging their real-life relationship.
Last time his entry had been excessive.
But now...
Thinking of Secretary Jin’s suggestive status had sped his heartbeat.
After a long exhale, he lay back down and closed his eyes.
With a slight mental motion, he clicked Dream Link.
A sense of weightlessness washed over him.
Tang Song felt his consciousness lift and float above his body.
The surrounding real world dissolved;
darkness retreated like a tide, replaced by soft, nebulous light.
Light reshaped.
He felt solid ground beneath his feet.
Tang Song slowly opened his eyes.
He was in a corridor carpeted in heavy wool, familiar.
Ahead stood a solemn black double wooden door.
Feeling something in his heart, Tang Song pushed the door open.
This was an expansive office.
Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling window fog swirled, obscuring the view.
Directly in front of him stood an exaggeratedly large desk.
Behind it sat a sensual silhouette.
She wore gold-rimmed glasses and her long hair was impeccably pinned up, revealing a long, graceful swan-like neck with an ascetic rigor.
She wore the standard Director Jin ensemble—
a chiffon blouse, a pencil skirt, stockings, high heels.
Tang Song’s gaze involuntarily dropped under the desk.
A pair of long, straight, perfect legs were elegantly crossed.
Black ultra-sheer stockings, like a thin haze, clung to the flawless lines of her legs.
The stockings were so sheer that under the bright light the delicate reddish skin tone beneath was faintly visible.
Because of the crossed sitting posture, the tight skirt was slightly pulled up.
The hem dug into the thigh, carving out a full, rounded, taut curve.
That tension—merging workplace asceticism with private sensuality—sent a surge of hormones straight to Tang Song’s head.