More than a dozen people.

In this classical, tranquil, elegant, and at the same time eerie fireplace hall, which relied entirely on the light of candles to reflect each other's faces, there were more than a dozen people sitting in the seats alone, and even more if you counted the "little ones" behind them. Except for a few old ghosts who were real or fake, almost all of them were noisy as if they were buying vegetables in the vegetable market, but now they were all quiet.

They closed their mouths and opened their eyes to look at the young, petite, languid figure with a little strange sharpness in the doorway, as if they had been caught in some incredible magic, and for a moment they all lost their voices and the ability to speak.

"The eldest lady with a gloomy personality" - this is not a small number of people, this is the common impression that most of the family members present have about the head of the family they are now serving. This is certainly not a good impression, and it should not be accurate. Strange as it was, it was true, most of them had a not-so-good impression of the Grand Leader, but they both knew that it was biased.

If you think about it, the reason is simple—because they have a very limited understanding of the temperament of this eldest lady, and it is too one-sided. Because it wasn't until the eldest lady inherited the control of the family that they suddenly realized that they knew too little about her.

In fact, there don't seem to be many people in total who have really in-depth knowledge of the new head of the No. 1 crime family in Barblair Beach, and it seems that no one can really have any in-depth knowledge of her. It was a girl who had been psychedelic like smoke before, and she had now stepped out of the smoke and walked in front of them.

She is now their ruler, one step to the sky. When you think about it, it's a really amazing and interesting thing. And this is where the problem arises, because although similar stories are rare, this is not the first time that they have been staged on the stage of Stuttgar's black-and-red miracle. Most of the people here know one or two of those, and of course they all remember how those people ended up on stage.

It's not too funny. It's like a big bag bitten by a blood-sucking mosquito, which makes people itch and hurt, and they can't help but scratch and scratch - this may be a little friendly to ordinary people, but it is a bit cruel to these people, because they are all dressed in suits and leather shoes, and they are very concerned about their own image, but they can't be as wanton as ordinary people who don't have any special baggage, just stretch their hands into the collar of their clothes and scratch their flesh without any scruples.

No, that's not something they can do. These people, these people, who are not to a certain extent compared to the large numbers of ordinary people on the streets outside, have enormous and unimaginable powers that ordinary people cannot reach, but on the other hand, they are also bound by these forces. The rules that gave them these powers, the laws of success that they had always adhered to, became the shackles that bound their hands and feet when certain moments came. None of them dared or were not sure whether they would break free from this shackle, because no one could be sure what the consequences would be, whether they would achieve the desired end, or whether they would lose everything they had now, no matter how they developed, and it was not surprising.

So they have to sit there upright, sit respectfully, sit straight, no matter how much the damn bag hurts, itches, is red and swollen, or bleeds, they can't scratch it, scratch it, give up the catharsis and release of moderation. The only thing they can do is writhe and twist their bodies with small movements that others don't notice, and rub them a little - this is not a very clever thing to do, because the consequences of this can only become more and more itchy and unbearable.

Now, in this situation, the really experienced person knows exactly what is the right thing to do, and that is to calm down and leave it alone. When your attention is deliberately diverted to something more constructive, it often has an unexpected effect. When you come back to your senses, you will find that the bag has already healed by itself, and it no longer hurts or itches.

Walking on the porcelain tiles with a crisp sound of stepping on the ground, Safatina waved her hand, signaling that the family members present could take back their attention. She didn't look back, she didn't look at them.

So everyone took their eyes back. They sat quietly in their seats, some with their hands on their stomachs, some with their fingers crossed on the table, and some with one arm on the armrest, their index and middle fingers between cigars or cigarettes. They had their own thoughts, but they were all silent for the time being. They waited for their time to speak, and everyone was ready. Although they are not as particular as those who are professionally engaged in politics, they also have their own set of language treasures for such occasions.

Taking off her coat and tossing it to the rabbit behind her to hang on a nearby hanger, Safatina first kissed each other on the cheek with Nancy, who was smiling and waiting for her. Then Nancy pulled open the large high-backed chair that belonged to Safatina at the top of the long table—it was almost like a throne—and Safatina sat on it relaxed and wantonly.

She raised her head and looked at the people who were focusing their attention and gaze on her in the dead silence, and a strange smile suddenly appeared on her face, which was originally expressionless, and the gloom that was originally a little depressed was swept away, and she reached out and pushed her round glasses.

"What is this doing?" She asked with a smile, her voice was not loud or small, just enough for everyone in the room to be able to hear and hear clearly, "Why are they all looking at me?" Didn't you just say that you were very noisy, didn't you say it when I was away, and I heard your lively chatter from the other side of the corridor before I entered the door, and it almost deafened all these poor candles - why did you all stop talking when I came? ”

“……”

No one talked. Of course, if anyone chooses to express their opinion at this time, then he must be in a bad mind. Everyone was silent, listening as their leader continued. They knew she was going to keep talking, because what she really wanted to say hadn't been said, what she really had to say hadn't been said yet.

"What were you all talking about?"

Safatina asked again, her tone revealing a hint of interest, and a friendly and nervous smile that belonged to her kind of young girl, but behind the two large round lenses, there was a faint hint of depth without a smile.

She turned her head, looked around at her family, and swept them around one by one, lingering on everyone's faces for no more than a second.

"What were you all talking about?" She repeated her question, "No one wants to talk to me?" ”

“……”

No one answered. Many people had shifted their gaze at this point, and they no longer stared at Safatina, but moved to something else. For example, your own fingers, or the candles in the middle of the long table that are as free as stars and have no regularity to speak of. They looked at the flickering flames, and the same light flickered in their eyes.

But despite this, of course, their attention was still on the person in control of the situation in the field, listening to her next voice.

"Okay."

Shrugging helplessly, Safatina seemed to accept the fact that everyone in front of her had kept their mouths shut and remained silent about her. It seemed like a very strange but reasonable thing, and she couldn't understand them, because not so long ago she was one of them, and was even more silent than they were.

So she knows them, she knows that they don't keep their mouths shut because they really don't want to talk, not because they really don't have anything to say. There are only two reasons why they are like this, watching, and waiting. And they do two things for one purpose, that is, to open their mouths to speak when the right time comes.

After all, one of the main reasons why people have a long mouth is to speak, so how can they not get up? Of course they will use it, and of course they will use it sometimes. And they don't use it now because the time hasn't come yet. And then guess what? Safatina felt that they were right.

It is indeed not yet their turn to speak.

"It's okay." She said, shrugging her shoulders and sitting lazily in her high-backed chair, with one leg crossed, her hands folded on her knees, her head tilted slightly, and she stuck out her tongue a little playfully, "It's okay, it's okay if you don't say anything." I know, I know what you're thinking, and I know what you're just talking about. ”

“……”

"That's not that difficult, is it?" Safatina lowered her head and smiled, like a scarecrow with an electric motor, sticking into the field to scare the brainless birds, "Because in such occasions we all have only one topic to talk about, and it has always been the case - and that is the problem that our family is facing that needs to be solved." ”

It's a nonsense, but it's a nonsense that sounds very plausible. And the smartest thing is that it's a nonsense that will bring today's family meeting to the point — finally to the point. Everyone's ears pricked up at this point, and their eyes looked at the bespectacled girl on the first seat again.

The girl still kept her head down, and her round lenses reflected a little bit of fire. Behind her, the petite rabbit and the tall Nancy stood on either side of the throne, one left and one right, like lifeless stone sculptures, motionless and silent.