Just as people of Asian descent are segmented into various ethnic groups with distinct physical traits, the so-called "Caucasian race" is similarly diverse. Many in society overlook this nuance, using the blanket term "White people" to distinguish Caucasians, which is quite unscientific. Take China, for example: historically, the Central Plains people used discriminatory terms like "Southern Barbarians" (Nanman), "Northern Savages" (Beiyi), and "Western Tribes" (Xifan) for the peripheral regions.

If the east hadn't been bounded by the sea, there would surely have been an equivalent term for "Eastern something." There’s an old saying: the same rice feeds a hundred kinds of people, meaning the differences between individuals are complex and varied. In Asia, because ethnic integration began early and has been long-standing, coupled with significant population mobility, the sub-branches of the race have become less distinct. However, in Europe and the Americas, these sub-branches are remarkably apparent.

This is precisely the situation Wang Zhuo and his companions have now encountered. The dancer Wang Zhuo selected had fair hair and blue eyes, a type of Caucasian. Meanwhile, Zhao Yu’s choice was a dancer with black hair and brown eyes, yet she was also unequivocally Caucasian.

The internal variation among Caucasians is vast. Hair color alone ranges from blonde, red, white, brown, to black; eyes vary between blue, green, and brown. During World War II, when the Germans carried out their campaign of racial extermination, the perpetrators—the Germanic peoples—were Caucasians, but the Jews targeted for annihilation were also Caucasians, as were the Roma people.

In contemporary times, if a man from Southern China travels north, a local might sneer at his appearance, remarking, "Look at that toad-like mug, jowls puffed out like a frog; he’s clearly a Nanman." Conversely, when a northerner visits the south, he might be scornfully labeled a Beilao (Northern bumpkin), instantly recognizable in a crowd. To reiterate the point, China's national integration has been so thorough that the true historical trajectory of many ethnic groups is now untraceable. The West has shown a similar trend over the past few centuries, but if one digs deep enough, a general origin can still be ascertained.

When buying a watermelon at a farmer's market, the vendor will still inform the customer, "This one is local," and, "This one was transported from afar." Similarly, whether seafood is farmed, whether apples are grafted, or if vegetables are genetically modified—these differences dictate consumer choice. What Wang Zhuo and his group hadn't anticipated was that the erminrin establishment would operate the same way! This holds true in virtually every venue worldwide dedicated to such pleasures.

Even among hostesses, there are distinctions—Wenzhou girls versus Sichuan girls. The red-light districts of Taiwan are even more blatant, advertising right on their doorways with signs like "New Arrivals: Tuomei [a term for mainland girls]," "Big-Breasted Beigu [Northern girls]," or "Exotic Girls Incoming!" It seems the act of patronage is treated like selecting supermarket goods, demanding knowledge of origin and brand label! Regrettably, Wang Zhuo had been in England too briefly, and in this specific arena, he was an absolute novice.

Thus, no matter how sharp his learning capacity, he couldn't engage deeply with the floor manager. When the manager solemnly introduced, "This one is Germanic, this one Slavic, this one Celtic, this one Caucasian," Wang Zhuo felt completely lost and bewildered. It was like winking sweetly at a blind man!

Before long, everyone had selected their dancers, and the main show was about to commence. Bai Zhuo's initial choice was a blonde, blue-eyed girl, standing about one meter seventy-two—a typical Nordic Germanic feature. The Nazi Party once hailed this type as Aryan, believing them the world’s superior race.

Regardless of whether that claim holds water, Wang Zhuo admitted she was undeniably beautiful. As for why a race revered by Hitler would end up performing such a job, Wang Zhuo merely chuckled. So what if they were superior?

They were still up there performing striptease for him. The dancer Zhao Yu chose belonged to the Mediterranean branch of the Caucasian race. People often joke while watching soccer broadcasts, "Why do the Italians look darker than the Chinese team?

Are they even white?" This stems from failing to grasp the complex composition of the Caucasian race. When the five dancers ascended the tabletop in the private room, Li Mingxu sighed, marveling at the vast differences between individuals within the same overarching Caucasian group. What a wondrous, varied world this is.

The ambiguous music, the dim, flickering lights, the novel exotic spirits, and the dazzling performances of the foreign women quickly enveloped them, and the group settled in to enjoy the evening with pleasure and ease. The inwardly lustful Zhao Yu rapidly descended into a trance of carnal obsession, utterly lost in the moment. University lecturer Li Mingxu followed the rhythm, gently swaying his head, appearing deeply engrossed.

Kang Yangqiu, however, occasionally observed the others. He quickly noticed something: although Wang Zhuo maintained an expression of relaxed enjoyment watching the dancers, his eyes remained clear and bright, utterly lacking the lecherous look of the others. Men of capability certainly possess inherent confidence...

Kang Yangqiu nodded to himself. Wang Zhuo was in his prime, handsome, wealthy, and highly regarded. A man of his standing, Kang Yangqiu thought, should surely struggle to control his lower half, treating beautiful women as inexhaustible military resources.

Yet, Wang Zhuo kept such excellent control. He must be a man of strict morals even back home. Possessing such self-discipline at a young age meant his future prospects were limitless!

Looking at the others, only Zhou Jiyuan remained relatively composed. Li Mingxu and Zhao Yu, on the other hand, were practically drooling fanboys! Kang Yangqiu felt even greater admiration for Wang Zhuo—this was the model of a man, able to maintain a calm and composed demeanor even while relaxing in a setting like this.

Truly remarkable! Little did Kang Yangqiu know that Wang Zhuo’s lack of a lustful display had nothing to do with purity. It was simply that women of this caliber failed to capture his attention.

They were beautiful, yes, but they lacked soul. A monetary transaction could never be as invigorating as an emotional connection. Therefore, he watched the performance purely with an appreciative and playful gaze, occasionally allowing himself a suggestive thought, but his true target was on a higher plane than the women on the stage.

After three consecutive dances, the women collected their tips, offered their thanks, and departed. Li Mingxu and Zhao Yu leaned their heads together, murmuring about something. Kang Yangqiu headed to the restroom, while Zhou Jiyuan drank and munched on dried fruit.

The next item was a solo performance, pre-booked—a segment highly recommended by Major Heidegger. After Kang Yangqiu returned, Wang Zhuo beckoned to get their attention and chuckled, "Next up is a magic show. The kind where they strip while performing illusions.

Make sure you watch closely, gentlemen." "Wow, that’s awesome!" Zhao Yu was overjoyed. Zhou Jiyuan remarked with a hint of regret, "Too bad they don't allow photos. Otherwise, I’d snap a couple to show off when I get back." "It's not entirely impossible to photograph," Wang Zhuo grinned.

"After the performance, you can ask for a photo with the female magician, though that will cost a tip." "That’ll probably run about a hundred Euros, right?" Li Mingxu analyzed. Seeing Wang Zhuo nod, those interested in a photo exchange looked conflicted. If it were a hundred Renminbi, they could grit their teeth and pay it, but a hundred Euros was steep!

While they were bantering and feeling slightly anxious, the door to the room suddenly nudged open, and a graceful silhouette slipped inside nimbly. She’s here! Li Mingxu and the others instantly became excited, fixing their gaze on the woman who stood with her back to them, peering out.

This woman was about one meter sixty-eight tall. Unlike the hot attire of the previous dancers, she wore a stylish, tailored suit ensemble. While alluringly attractive, it maintained a certain formality.

She also carried an elegant handbag, likely a prop for the magic act. Even though the light in the room wasn't bright, Wang Zhuo recognized immediately that her short hair was deep golden-blonde, sharp and highly layered. The instant she entered, Wang Zhuo caught a glimpse of her face and felt a strange sense of familiarity...

Could he be seeing things? Wang Zhuo, slightly puzzled, first looked down at his own glass, wondering if the drink contained some kind of hallucinogen. He didn't doubt anything else; he knew plenty of Caucasians—they were all business partners.

None of them were young women, much less magicians in a strip club! Of course, there was nothing wrong with the drink. Wang Zhuo dismissed the absurd notion after just one look.

At that moment, the woman finally turned around, and then Zhao Yu suddenly let out a roar of ecstatic recognition. "Erin Top!" That shout startled Wang Zhuo and the others, even freezing the woman momentarily. Then, Zhao Yu sprang from his seat like a rubber ball and lunged toward her.

Erin Top? Wang Zhuo snapped back to reality, looking at the woman standing at the door in disbelief—no, she should probably be called a girl. Before he could take a proper look, Wang Zhuo suddenly sensed that the situation was going awry.

Erin Top was clearly startled by Zhao Yu's outburst. She adopted a defensive stance, feet planted wide, fists held up guarding her chest, seemingly ready to throw a punch at the lunatic charging toward her at any moment! Wang Zhuo was instantly torn between laughter and despair.

This idiot Zhao Yu had clearly lost control due to the shock of recognizing an idol, perhaps fueled by a little alcohol, causing him to rush forward like a maniac. Whatever the reason Erin Top was in this room, she clearly wasn't there to perform magic, and "Erin Top" was just the Chinese phonetic translation of her name; she certainly wouldn't understand Zhao Yu's sudden shout! Fortunately, Zhao Yu hadn't acted too rashly.

While the private room was luxurious, it was barely fifty square meters. The distance from his seat to Erin Top was about five meters. Once she took a ready-to-punch stance, he hurriedly halted, stopping about a meter and a half away from her.

Wang Zhuo and the others had just stood up in surprise when someone pushed the room door open behind Erin Top. She instinctively took a small step back to clear the way. A suited giant, nearly one meter ninety tall, entered the room.

The moment he saw Erin standing in a boxing pose facing a flushed, red-faced Eastern man, he roared an order in English and forcefully shoved Zhao Yu. Thump! The little fatty already had unstable footing, and caught off guard while dazed, the forceful push sent him sprawling backward!