GoodReadQuinn's gaze shifted upwards, immediately landing on a man of middle age, nestled within the throng of people.
He was in his prime, somewhere between his thirties and forties, yet his body bore the weight of excess, his girth
quite pronounced.
He wore a vibrant short-sleeved shirt that strained against his expansive belly, resembling a woman seven or
eight months into her pregnancy. A pair of sunglasses rested atop his head, and a chunky gold necklace
encircled his neck. His face, plump and jovial, displayed a smile that hinted at a touch of foolishness.
Flanking the rotund man were two individuals, their attire mirroring his own. They held aloft a banner that bore a
bold proclamation: "WelcAlexander to Sylvadora." Their garish ensemble painted them as caricatures of
villains, prompting the surrounding crowd to give them a wide berth. Their ostentatious display was excessive,
bordering on embarrassing.
Yet, Alexander remained unperturbed. He casually removed a pair of sunglasses that matched the fat man's,
discarding them into a nearby trash can. The sight elicited a chuckle from Walter.
As Alexander guided Quinn towards the exit, the fat man promptly beckoned someone over to greet him.
"Alexander, you're finally here. The car is waiting outside, please, this way," he gestured invitingly, his gaze then
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtshifting to Quinn. She was clad in a thick, white sweater, her hair fashioned into a bun atop her head. A few stray
strands hung loosely by her ears, accentuating her petite face. "Why is this girl dressed so thickly?" the man
queried awkwardly, his eyes darting towards Quinn several times.
She appeared delicate, the epitof a fresh-faced college girl. Her face was devoid of makeup, yet her skin
was fair and smooth, akin to a peeled egg, its surface reflecting light as if it could glow. The fat man admired her
inwardly, acknowledging Alexander's taste.
Feeling his gaze upon her, Quinn lowered her head further, revealing the nape of her neck adorned with fine
strands of hair. The man found himself staring at her neck, gulping involuntarily.
As he continued to gaze at Quinn, a sudden chill swept across his forehead. He instinctively looked up, only to be
met with Alexander's icy stare. Startled, he chuckled nervously, "Alexander, you don't need to dress so thickly in
Sylvadora. It's eighteen or nineteen degrees during the day, perfect for short sleeves."
Alexander didn't respond to his comment, instead asking, "Where's the car?"
"It's in the parking lot, this way," the fat man gestured, leading the way while carefully avoiding looking at Quinn.
"Is it just the three of you, Alexander?"
"es."
The fat man opened the door of a Porsche, chuckling. "You can take this one, I'll be your driver." Walter
nonchalantly tossed the luggage into the trunk and claimed the front passenger seat. Alexander guided Quinn to
the back seat.
As the fat man drove them out of the airport, he enthusiastically introduced them to Sylvadora and its numerous
attractions. Sylvadora was indeed a popular vacation spot, especially during the winter, drawing in tourists from
far and wide. This fat man was the property owner of Sylvadora, owning approximately eighty percent of the
hotels and resorts in the area. Walter raised an eyebrow, suddenly saying, "You're... Quentin Ford, right?"
The fat man scratched his round belly and laughed. "I'm not worthy of that title in front of Alexander. You can just
callFatso, many people do."
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