Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Hold on.” Chen shook his head and wiped the newly beaded sweat on his forehead. “I never said that. No. No. No. They could uh. . .they could work. . .maybe. . .I more said I needed to do background checks. This is just a. . .clerical thing. From what I see I think this could be a very delightful situation. . .in a formal. . .um official way, not any other way. Definitely. . .no other way.”
Moni stared back at him like he was crazy. “What other way would it be, Chen?”
I crossed my arms, enjoying the show. “Yeah, Deputy Mountain Master. What other way could it be?”
“Oh.” Chen cleared his throat. “I am merely saying that I would have to execute a thorough process making sure that they are good in bed.”
Oh God.
Moni frowned. “What?”
One of the women chuckled.
“No. No. No.” Chen shook his head. “I meant to say good in their. . .ability to adapt to. . .stressful situations that could require. . .umm. . .in depth knowledge of. . .palace protocols. Nothing about bed. I mean they would have beds to sleep on, but I would not have anything to do with that or their beds. . .respectfully.”
Moni and I exchanged glances.
Sorry. He likes one of them. He gets nervous and weird when he likes a woman.
Duck jumped in. “If it matters, I already approve. All three have my vote and my bed. It’s a comfortable one.”
One smiled.
Chen shushed. “You don’t get a vote and that is not. . .appropriate.”
Duck muttered. “You’re the one that mentioned a bed in the first place.”
“Be quiet.” Chen straightened his tie and cleared his throat again.
Hu—who typically remained quiet and in the background—moved in closer and smiled. “Nice to meet you three. What’s everyone’s names?”
I turned to Moni’s ladies-in-waiting.
The tallest woman warmly smiled. “My name is Thandi.”
Duck cleared his throat, stepping forward with a flourish and extending a hand to her. “A pleasure to meet you, Thandi. If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to call on me. You and I will be working close together from now on, so. . .welcome. Officially.”
I held in my laughter.
The second woman in the sky-blue outfit spoke, “I’m Lan.”
She nodded at me. “I am honored to be able to serve, Mountain Master. I met you long ago, when we were both kids and I was living at Sky Haven. You gave me extra candy canes and cookies for the yearly Christmas festival.”
“Aww.” I blinked. “You grew up in my mother’s orphanage?”
“Yes, sir.” She gestured to the other two. “We all grew up there, so it feels good to give back to your family.”
“Then, you all are basically from the East?”
They nodded.
Women of color that grew up in the East? Smart move, Aunties.
Moni’s ladies-in-waiting already understood the complexities and challenges of our society in ways that few others could. Additionally, they knew the East’s culture, the traditions, and the unspoken rules that governed life here.
With them by her side, the public would see Moni as someone who wasn’t just paying lip service to the ideals of representation and empowerment but was genuinely committed to uplifting those who had lived in the East’s margins.
Well played, Aunties. Maybe, I will free you all a bit earlier. Twenty days, instead of thirty.
More importantly, the people of the East would recognize Moni’s hiring of these women as a bold step forward—a recognition that those who had been orphaned, marginalized, or dismissed could rise to positions of power and influence.
Another strong message that the Mountain Mistress wasn’t afraid to break from tradition in order to shape a new future.
Plus, my mother’s orphanage would be back in the spotlight. Her charity gala would be next month. This gesture would help with raising money.
Oh wait.
Since my mother passed and there was no longer a Mountain Mistress, my aunts took over the job of planning the gala.
Now with Moni as M.M.I.T., it would make more sense to have her plan it. And that was a big, complicated job.
The annual event was more than just a celebration; it was a tradition steeped in elegance and prestige, drawing officials and dignitaries from across all of Paradise City and even attracting guests from China who flew in to pay their respects.
The gala itself was a colossal undertaking. For weeks leading up to the event, my aunts and their team were consumed by a flurry of activity, turning every corner of the palace’s ball room into an oasis of opulence. Elaborate floral arrangements were crafted to complement the theme, each bloom carefully selected for its hue and fragrance. Silk banners embroidered with traditional motifs were unfurled and draped along the walls.
Seating charts were designed to ensure that Paradise City’s dignitaries, business moguls, and political officials were strategically placed to encourage collaboration and conversation.
Caterers and chefs orchestrated culinary masterpieces, testing recipes and curating the menu to reflect both local flavors and international tastes. The wine selection alone required diplomatic consideration, as vintages had to appeal to guests of different cultures and palates.