The distant Erentop was one thing; King Masuvi IV admitted he was a country bumpkin, lacking the finesse to court an international superstar. But another matter filled him with blinding rage: those damn American adult entertainment companies. Some of their biggest female stars were openly on the market, yet why did a single encounter cost others ten or twenty thousand dollars, while doubling the price for him?! This wasn't about being ripped off; it was outright discrimination against him as a hayseed! But for the bumpkin king, the services of adult film stars were truly a "seller's market"—they named their price and adopted an aloof "take it or leave it" attitude. King Masuvi IV could only accept it with resignation. Unfortunately, his good times were short-lived. Not long after becoming king, he was infected with AIDS by a philandering concubine. That was it—not only was there fire in his own backyard, but a rebellion had broken out domestically. Furthermore, the American adult entertainment industry had blacklisted him; no amount of money could secure him company anymore.

King Masuvi IV didn't understand Chinese, but when he met secretly with Fatty Long and heard the fat man vividly describe Sun Donghao's "blissful" sex life, he desperately wanted to curse him. The moment Fatty Long threw out a barrage of empty promises, Masuvi IV was stunned, reeling and unable to tell north from south! The King of Wealth was developing a new AIDS drug, with slots for the first users; the annual profits from the deep-sea monetization ship, with the chance to become a vested shareholder; a position in the American and Japanese adult entertainment worlds—hanging with Fatty Long meant access to the very best: villas, fleets of cars, private jets... Damn it all! With such magnificent prospects, who would choose to remain a king as poor as a piece of dog shit!

King Masuvi IV had been entirely focused on "Ocean Blondes" and hadn't given any thought to East Asian beauties. But when he saw the two stunning women standing behind Wang Zhuo, he finally understood what the word "stunning" meant and how completely wrong he had been. They were both people of color, yet East Asians and Black people were undeniably different. In truth, his thought process was an overcorrection, falling into the trap of preferring the exotic to the familiar. In reality, there were many beautiful Black women who could earn a thumbs-up even from the world's most discerning men. Experienced men knew that Black skin was far smoother than white skin, feeling like silk and satin. If one set aside racial prejudice, excellent Black individuals were unsurpassed by any other race, whether in intelligence, physique, appearance, or any other metric.

King Masuvi IV's sudden aesthetic upheaval was because Gan Shuang, Yang Ru, and Fu Xinran, standing behind Wang Zhuo, were truly exquisite. To what extent they were exquisite needed no further description, but what shocked Masuvi IV most was Yang Ru’s distinctly unique 'snake spirit' face, and Fu Xinran’s cool, professional beauty. Gan Shuang, meanwhile, had skin that was extremely pale, and a figure that even the most famous "American Bombshells" couldn't overshadow. Masuvi IV strongly suspected her magnificent bosom might be fake, but it was obvious that only the absolute rarest gems could stand beside the King of Wealth; there was no room for silicone or saline bags. According to Western aesthetics, East Asian women with slanted eyes and upturned noses were considered beauties, as were those with large bone structures and broad faces—a standard vastly different from Eastern tastes. Masuvi IV’s own aesthetic was a muddled mix of both, neither fully Eastern nor Western, and he hadn't seriously contemplated which East Asian women were truly beautiful. But now, his mind had finally formed a concept: the Asian women surrounding the King of Wealth were beautiful!

Noticing King Masuvi IV's momentarily loss of composure, Wang Zhuo chuckled inwardly. His prior preparations had not been in vain. Intelligence showed this exiled monarch was lustful and subscribed to the "new priest chants louder" mentality, being particularly fond of Caucasian beauties. Showing him this display would certainly strengthen his conviction to "sell his country."

The process need not be detailed. On the return journey, King Masuvi IV’s joy was tinged with disappointment. The King of Wealth had ultimately rejected his demand for "ruling without governing." However, he had offered terms that were impossible to refuse, meaning this king's reign was definitively over.

Although he couldn't emulate the Emperor of Japan or the Queen of England, King Masuvi IV was quite satisfied with the deal. As a terminally ill patient, even though the latency period for AIDS could be long, an abrupt onset meant death was near. The meaning of living in the moment was paramount. Furthermore, Masuvi IV was pragmatic; his throne was already precarious, so what capacity did he have to worry about abdication for his heirs? Rather than leave them a ruined mess, it was more practical to ensure they became wealthy second-generation heirs. Perhaps in the future, they could even run for a governorship or presidency in America, which would certainly be better than squatting in that undeveloped inland patch of Africa.

King Masuvi IV had never savored the supreme height of royal power, so when he made this decision, he truly felt "no pain in selling his father's fields." Thus, when he secretly returned to the Stuart Convalescent Center, he was already joyfully anticipating the monthly dividends from the "Big Shot" stock options!

“Meeting him like this, can we really keep it hidden from the American agents?” On the other side, amidst the lively conversation, Fu Xinran suddenly posed a question. “Who cares?” Gan Shuang smiled lightly and said dismissively, “Even if the Americans know Wang Zhuo met with Masuvi IV now, they can’t reverse this deal. Besides, Wang Zhuo offered the Americans terms they also can’t refuse—it’s thirty thousand job opportunities, more than the entire employment population of the Melody Auto City. Combined with the political compromises, the Americans have no reason to refuse.”

Wang Zhuo immediately held up an index finger, shaking it proudly: “Let me correct that. That isn’t compromise; that’s being roundabout, that’s being evasive.” Laughter broke out. Wang Zhuo was showing increasing political potential lately. It was a pity a person only had two hands; if he had gone into politics, perhaps he could have climbed another peak. This could be considered a form of life's inevitable trade-off: gaining in one area means loss in another.

Yang Ru sighed softly thoughtfully, “I truly can’t imagine that for the price of one hundred million dollars a year, a man would abandon his kingship. That monarch is too cheaply valued.” “Do you think this is a developed nation? That sum is absolutely immense to him,” Fu Xinran laughed. “It’s just a small country with a million people, smaller than many counties in China, and so underdeveloped. Being king there is meaningless anyway.” Qu Jingyou teased from the side, “How so? Wang Zhuo thinks it’s very interesting, doesn’t he, Wang Zhuo?” Wang Zhuo gave a sheepish laugh. Some things were understood without being said, but stating them outright would indeed be awkward. Moreover, he only had one mouth; if these women started debating him volubly, he’d never win. If it were just one or two, he might risk it, as he could easily silence them when cornered. For example... and for example... But now, counting Siyuan, there were six women present. While Bailu and Siyuan would certainly be on his side, and Fu Xinran might remain neutral, there were still Gan Shuang, Yang Ru, and Qu Jingyou. He could silence one with words, one with a summons, but how could he silence the third? Better to be sensible and maintain silence!

Just as Wang Zhuo predicted, although the American agents monitoring Masuvi IV allowed the exiled king to slip away quietly, another team monitoring Wang Zhuo spotted him as he left Wang Zhuo’s residence. This incident caused the leadership of the “Relevant Department” to fly into a rage. However, when the diplomat sternly requested a meeting with King Masuvi IV, they discovered the situation had fundamentally shifted in a direction they hadn't anticipated. Thus, the matter was inevitably reported to the US President...

While the American President, his Secretary of State, and their advisors engaged in deep discussion on this matter, the small measure the Americans had prepared for Wang Zhuo finally found its opportunity to be deployed! Sunny skies, beautiful, abundant women. It was another beautiful day. Early summer Miami Beach was already heating up. Wang Zhuo was waiting for the Americans' response after hearing his terms, so he was lingering in Miami for the moment. Of course, he wouldn’t admit he was hunting for pleasure at this world-famous tourist spot, even though the local tabloids suggested as much. Miami had many private beaches; even the sunshine wasn't free here. American real estate was cheap, but the taxes caused many expatriates who sought "investment immigration" here great distress. Only a wealthy magnate like Wang Zhuo could afford to own a private beach in Miami, then plant signs, string up ribbons, or install artificial hedges between his property and his neighbor’s to delineate boundaries.

The women were playing a blindfolded watermelon-smashing game, a pastime learned from Japanese manga that was quite entertaining. Wang Zhuo lay lazily on a beach chair, watching An Qi, who was being playfully teased and tricked by everyone while wildly hacking at the sand with a golf club, a smile gracing his lips. A faint, elegant fragrance drifted past. An Qi, her skin tanned a deep bronze, approached carrying a tray of cracked coconuts. She placed it on the table under Wang Zhuo’s sun umbrella, picked out the largest one, and handed it to him with a smile. Wang Zhuo reached out to take it, secretly squeezing her lower back, and chuckled softly, “Tonight, An Qi and I are coming to your place, and you’re not allowed to lock the door.” An Qi shot him a fierce glare, feigning annoyance: “Dream on! Either you come alone, or nobody comes!” Wang Zhuo laughed heartily, tossed the coconut a couple of times in his hand, bit down on the straw, and began to drink, his gaze fixed on An Qi filled with teasing amusement. An Qi couldn’t help but blush fiercely; this was clearly not something she could decide alone. This man was her natural nemesis; which of his requests had ever gone unmet?

Just as he was anticipating the pleasure of a night of sisterly indulgence, a cheer suddenly rose from the private beach to the north. Wang Zhuo turned to look. A seven-colored frisbee was rotating slowly, flying over the hedge separating the two beaches, wafting gently toward his side.