Chapter 53: A Candid Conversation About Beauties

“You don’t need to sigh and moan like that,” Nan Yan said, patting Wang Jing on the shoulder. “Isn’t there a saying? ‘When the cart reaches the mountain, there’ll be a road.’ No matter how you look at it, you’re still better off than me. I call myself a screenwriter, but so far I only have a vague idea. Who knows when I’ll actually finish a script—maybe not in this lifetime.”

“We came here to check out beautiful women, so why dwell on troublesome things?” Nan Yan continued, sneaking a look at Wang Jing and Yan Xu, subtly gesturing in a certain direction. “Look over there—what do you think of that woman? Her face, her figure—nothing to complain about.”

Wang Jing glanced briefly, then his expression turned dismissive. “Some beauty. She’s not bad looking, but everything else is pretty mediocre. I don’t know what you see in her.”

Nan Yan, unwilling to concede, objected, “How can you say that? Look at the size of her chest—there’s no way you could hold that with two hands.”

“That’s exactly why I say you have no eye for detail,” Wang Jing retorted. “You only see those two little mounds peeking out, but let me tell you, that’s all padding. See how her clothes bulge? That’s not her chest, that’s stuffing. She’s deliberately pushing those things up and cinching her clothes tight to create the illusion of deep cleavage. It looks impressive, but it’s all the work of her outfit—there’s nothing real underneath. Pay close attention when she lifts her arms; you can see the padding peeking out from under her armpits.”

Wang Jing’s eye was sharp—growing up in the TV studios with his father, he’d seen every kind of beauty there was, and could spot a fake at a glance.

“Seriously? It’s all fake?” Nan Yan rubbed his eyes, staring intently at the woman’s chest and the movement of her arms, hoping to spot the trick.

“Wang Fatty’s got it right,” Yan Xu chimed in. “Look at her cleavage—it’s unnatural, and her whole chest is lifted too high. Dead giveaway. After Director Zhang’s movie filled the city with well-endowed actresses, these tricks have become common knowledge, though they’re still not that widespread these days.”

“And forcing the cleavage like that all the time can block or reduce the flow of lymph in the breast, causing poor circulation, which leads to hyperplasia. Plus, squeezing so tight makes it hard to breathe. Notice how her breathing is faster than most people’s, and her movements are bigger too?”

“You really know your stuff,” Wang Jing said, eyeing Yan Xu with a new respect. He’d always prided himself on his keen eye, but here was someone who could match him. “Cleavage, huh? That’s what you call a business line. Xu, how did you come up with that?” Wang Jing muttered to himself, then his eyes lit up and he burst out laughing, looking at Yan Xu with admiration. Not to be outdone, he called Yan Xu “Little Xu,” since Yan Xu had just called him “Fatty Wang.”

“It’s nothing, really,” Yan Xu replied. “All men like beautiful women, so I just spend time observing. Nothing special.” In truth, Yan Xu had decades more experience than Wang Jing. In the future, he’d seen every kind of beauty—natural, artificial, alternative. Though only an assistant director, there was nothing he hadn’t seen.

“Not bad for someone who just observes for fun. What else have you figured out? Let us in on it.” Both Wang Jing and Nan Yan looked at Yan Xu, eager to hear more.

“It’s nothing much,” Yan Xu said with a slight smile. “I just categorize beautiful women into a few types. If you’re interested, I’ll tell you.”

“Don’t beat around the bush,” Nan Yan urged.

“I divide beauties into ten main types. The first is the ‘secret crush’ type—the girl-next-door, childhood sweetheart kind. These women are simple and straightforward. Maybe not stunning, but there’s something about them that tugs at your heartstrings, making you want to look again. They remind you of your school days, of a girl who sat nearby. Seeing her made you happy, distracted you in class, made you wonder what she was thinking. You’d look forward to seeing her every day, maybe even follow the same path home, just by chance.”

“The second type is the ‘wounded bird’—the delicate, dependent type. Seeing her awakens a man’s protective instincts. Her timidness and fragility are a kind of moving beauty, giving a man the chance to show his masculinity and heroism.”

“The third is the ‘classical’ type—gentle and serene. Being around her, you feel nothing but ease. She’s like a quiet stream, never impatient. The fourth is the ‘mature’ beauty—a woman in her prime. That’s a word full of temptation. The beauty of a mature woman is something young girls can’t match—some are intellectual, some are homemakers, but all inspire a sense of conquest. These women know how to read a man’s heart, understand all his needs—in life, work, even in bed. Whether you’re a boy or a man, this kind of woman will make your desires swell.”

“The fifth type is the ‘icy beauty’—cold and aloof, like a mountain peak. Her appearance alone feels out of reach, and combined with her proud air, most men won’t even try, though some will be drawn to the challenge.”

Yan Xu paused here, took a sip of champagne to wet his throat, and continued.

“The sixth is the ‘cute’ type. These women like to be doted on, love to pout and act spoiled. There’s even a rare subcategory—the baby-faced seductress, who is simply irresistible to many men. The seventh is the ‘sexy’ beauty—though everyone and every country defines sexiness differently. Americans love full, round chests, shapely hips, and plump lips. The French prefer a straight neck, slender waist, ample chest, and a deep line of cleavage. The English admire long legs and bright eyes. But all share one trait: a perfectly curvaceous figure.”

“The eighth type is the ‘fallen angel’—bad girls, barflies, mistresses, even married women having affairs. You can’t deny their beauty, and their air of decadence is like the allure of poppies—poisonous, yet impossible to resist.”

“Ninth is the ‘wild’ type—a new phenomenon in recent years, born of feminism. These girls are bold, decisive, and shatter every traditional expectation of womanhood, turning men’s ideas on their heads. Yet this very quality only makes them all the more irresistible.”

“And lastly, the ‘makeup beauty.’ Cosmetic technology is so advanced now that even a woman in her fifties or sixties can look like a thirty-something, or even a young girl, with the right makeup. But once the makeup comes off, the transformation is so dramatic it’s like seeing a ghost—completely unrecognizable. They’re just like the surgically enhanced women—entirely man-made beauties.”

PS: I’ve been busy lately, working overtime until one or two in the morning. These days I only update when I can find the time. I was planning to thank everyone for getting me to the top of the new books list, but before I could, I’d already dropped down again—haha.

I want to thank Shi Yaoqian, Da Baicai, Roast Hen, Heartbreak, Broken Moon Over the River, Ugly Enough for Cosmetic Surgery, 18377707194 for their support, and another tip from Sister Xia.

Of course, a special thanks to Heartbreak for three requests for 9,000-word updates—9,000! My manuscript reserve is almost gone. I’ve barely written a thousand words all week because of overtime, but I’ll do my best. Here are two chapters for now.