Miss Beautiful C.E.O and her system-Chapter 690: Conversation of power

Beside her, Xiao Yue sneered openly. She knew Ling Qingyu too well—this was her 'gentle' mode.

The minister tried to swallow, but his throat caught. It wasn't until the woman beside him tugged on his sleeve that he snapped out of it.

"Madam Ling," he managed, "Please—my sincerest apologies. There will be no search. This was... a misunderstanding."

Maybe the unpleasant affair had reached the so-called head of state.

Ling Qingyu said nothing more. She simply turned and moved forward, as if the matter was too trivial to bother remembering.

But everyone present knew—she'd remember it. And so would his superiors. In addition, the commotion should have reached the man she was about to meet today.

That must be the reason why the woman interrupted the minister to loosen the stake, giving in.

Ling Qingyu was sick of such temptations to test her bottom line. Truthfully, she had none apart from guaranteeing the 'sovereignty' of her islands.

If she received uncertainties, she would ensure one with cannons and force. Navy bombardment policy in the old navigation age.

For now, she shouldn't make a rash judgment before seeing the head of state and understanding their evil intentions.

In fact, Neither Ling Qingyu nor Xiao Yue carried weapons and firearms. They didn't need one with their outrageous physiques and attributes.

Plus, she owned a bracelet, a storage device. If she needed a gun, she could swish one in her hand in an instant, faster than drawing handguns from the holster and others.

Just a prepared hand gesture, and she could gun down everyone here with an assault rifle. The security measures, requested by the minister, existed as thin as paper in front of her capabilities.

The double doors opened with a smooth, silent glide, revealing a bright yet oddly sterile reception hall. Thick carpeting muffled footsteps. Art hung on the walls—strategically placed pieces that spoke of culture and prosperity, a façade polished to perfection.

On the left, a mere glass wall existed to display a beautiful natural scenery, a chill serene lake and small, lush tiny island, with vegetations that pleased the eyes.

At the far end, the head of state stood waiting. His personal securities poised themselves around every corner.

He was not old, but age clung to him. Thinning hair slicked back, creases hidden under expertly applied powder, posture upright like a practiced diplomat who had spent more years at the negotiating table than in real conflict. His smile was composed, carved with care.

Nevertheless, in Ling Qingyu's point of view, his outer stature raised more disgust, when the pretense of formal and polite person showed up vividly close to her.

The more she understood and knew about his private deeds, the more she couldn't connect with the man waiting for her. Devil under a human skin.

In his eyes, perhaps, Ling Qingyu was a sheep within his grasp though unsure of his own finding. The undercurrent moves hidden beneath the surface were meant to test Ling Qingyu's means.

Ling Qingyu was quite familiar with this contempt. The style shown by politicians toward businesspeople. Military toward scholar. Bandits against beggars.

In all cases, whoever possessed power reigned everything and dictated the other's fate.

The President stepped forward with both hands extended. "Ah, Madam Ling. Welcome. We've been looking forward to your visit."

Ling Qingyu didn't hurry. She paused, just long enough to tilt the balance—reminding the room who had made whom wait. Then, gracefully, she reached out to shake his hand.

"A pleasure, Your Excellency." Her voice was smooth, crisp. The kind of tone used when compliments were issued without sincerity, yet without offense.

"I trust the journey wasn't too taxing?" he said, watching her closely.

"Quite smooth," she said. "Except the part where I had to walk off the fatigue." Her eyes flicked to the deputy minister standing to the side. "But I understand it was to ensure I enjoyed the landscaping."

A flash of tension rippled through the room. The deputy minister lowered his eyes.

The head of state chuckled lightly, dismissing the tension with a wave of his hand. "Ah, that. I must apologize on behalf of our staff. We had hoped to show you our renovated compound. The walk was not intended as… discomfort."

"Discomfort is subjective," Ling Qingyu replied, smiling thinly. "But rest assured, I've been through far worse. A little walk never killed anyone."

Xiao Yue stifled a cough behind her hand, hiding a grin. This woman… She was practically lighting the room on fire, wrapped in silk and protocol.

"Please," the head of state gestured toward the central sofa, "let's sit. We have much to discuss."

They did. The rest remained standing watching the two chatted over a variety of topics.

But not a single useful word came out for the next ten minutes.

They sang and danced, praising each other.

He praised the rising cooperation between their peoples. She agreed—warmly, vaguely.

He expressed hope that her company might be interested in infrastructure bids. She noted the importance of transparency and fair processes, with a side glance sharp enough to shave skin.

He smiled, spoke of stability, of the efforts made to secure peace in the region. She nodded, complimented their bravery in light of the recent attack. Then gently reminded him that instability is often rooted in a failure of internal vigilance—not external threats.

On the surface, it was friendly. Cordial. Even boring.

But beneath the words, blades clashed.

He hinted at their sovereignty.

She responded with her autonomy and status.

He downplayed the incident at the airport and hinted the possible relationship with her.

She questioned the results of military investigation about the attacker and mocked their lack of preparedness if she were the target.

He suggested mutual benefit.

She reminded him she hadn't received even a courtesy report about the airport explosion—despite being the largest investor to step foot in the capital since the crisis began. freёwebnoѵel.com

Not once did she raise her voice. Not once did she lose her temper.

And that was what made her terrifying.

At last, the head of state leaned back, fingers steepled together, studying her. "Forgive me, Madam Ling," he said with a slight smile, "but you speak as though we owe you."

Ling Qingyu's smile didn't waver. "I don't recall suggesting such a thing. But I suppose guilt speaks loudest when no accusation is made."

If people aware, ignored the fact that Ling Qingyu spent huge dimes without the slightest gains, his word definitely sounded righteous.

Silence.

Even Xiao Yue blinked. That one hit square in the chest.

The head of state exhaled softly, pressing a hand to his chest in mock defeat. "Madam Ling… You are as formidable as they say."

"You should never trust rumors," Ling Qingyu said. "Some people exaggerate. Others don't say enough. I am only a human, after all."

He laughed again, this time with less ease. "Well. Let us move forward, then. I understand you have ideas for regional development—logistics corridors, data infrastructure, offshore projects. We welcome them all."

Now she shifted. "Only if the environment is stable and safe—for my people and my interests."

"Of course."

"And if the same respect I give is returned. Consistently."

"Naturally."

"I've brought ideas," she said. "But not favors. I'm here for partnerships. That's the distinction."

His face barely moved, but something behind his eyes flickered. He nodded slowly. "We understand each other now."

"Then we can begin," Ling Qingyu said.

She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other as if she'd finally found a comfortable position—not because she relaxed, but because she had drawn first blood in a war without bullets.

And the rest of the room? They held their breath.

Because this, right here, was how power negotiated.

Time passed, and Ling Qingyu stifled her laughter as she continued to lure the man, whose greed was almost overflowing.

His eyes betrayed everything—each flicker of interest, every glance toward the luxury brochure she casually left open, all fed into the trap she had woven with careful intent.

The reaction was understandable—who didn't fancy a little extra income, even when they already had capital, connections, and an established portfolio?

But it wasn't the lack of wealth that drew people in; it was the illusion of effortless gain that seduced even the most disciplined.

Every proposal she introduced, every offhand mention of "potential," subtly positioned her as an idealist.

To those watching closely, she appeared like someone with a stubborn dream—someone trying to build a community centered around innovation and shared prosperity.

Not once had she uttered the word "deal." Not once had she hinted at profit-sharing, investment returns, or political alignment.

It was all too subtle for most, but that was by design.

She had studied the politicians of Country E long before her arrival, and she understood their craving for power disguised under a facade of service.

Another duel was on the horizon. Not of blades or bullets, but of patience and perception.

Whoever blinked first would lose the initiative.

She could afford to wait. Her schedule may have been packed, but in negotiations like these, time was not a constraint—it was a weapon.

The longer she delayed, the more her silence fermented uncertainty in her opponent's mind.

No one touched the drinks available on the table. Not the polished glassware, not even the condensation pooling at the base of the untouched tumblers.

They were a formality, a ritual offering in a meeting that no one trusted enough to toast.

Here, in this room, every behavior was under silent scrutiny. Every breath, every tap of a pen, every tightened jaw or shifting eye—

each detail exposed something.

Had the Country E official reciprocated with sincerity, the messes wouldn't have stacked up like unfinished reports on a forgotten desk.

There had been chances—several of them. But sincerity demanded courage, and greed rarely left room for that.

Sometimes, Ling Qingyu wondered if human nature was constantly being tested by the smallest temptations.

For just a little gain, people wouldn't hesitate to offend others, to sour long-term relationships, or to dismiss caution as paranoia.

They would step on dignity just to pocket an advantage.

Future connections, once severed, were hard to mend. Yet in the moment, no one seemed to care.

That, to her, was the tragedy of modern diplomacy—short-term opportunism disguised as strategic foresight.

And so she smiled—subtly, patiently.

Let them think she was naive. Let them underestimate her.

The more they saw her as a harmless dreamer, the more blind they became to the net tightening around them.

She wasn't here to ask. She was here to decide.

Hopefully, everything ended with word and she didn't need to exercise extremes. If she could spend money to solve problems with sustainable benefits, all for the best.

Securing her island's control at the cost of cooperation didn't seem bad, even if she was being taken advantage of, as long as the situation wasn't overboard.