Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 227: Men’s Flower Arrangement (10)

Dragon Raja 3

“Ukyo, you have such a talent for numbers!” The manager was pleasantly surprised.

“These women come to Takamagahara seeking emotional comfort, not just to drink. Although I don’t speak Japanese, with the help of a server translating, I learned that 27 of them have experienced domestic violence, 31 have husbands who had affairs, and 16 believe their marriages are on the brink of collapse. In other words, I’m dealing with women who are disillusioned with their marriages and emotionally repressed. My role is somewhere between a friend of the opposite sex and a therapist. My main task is to listen. If my Japanese were better, it would greatly improve my performance, but improving my language skills quickly is difficult. Having a server translate for me is helpful but also problematic. With a server present, the clients feel like it’s a public conversation and are reluctant to share their private thoughts.”

“Of course. If I were a woman with emotional trauma, I’d only want to confide in a beautiful young man like you, Ukyo,” the manager nodded repeatedly, indicating that Chu Zihang was doing better than Caesar.

“No, they don’t want to confide. What they crave is being dominated. Logically, they exhibit symptoms of Stockholm syndrome.”

“That’s a rather academic term, Ukyo. Please explain it to me in detail,” the manager leaned in, eager to learn.

“Stockholm syndrome, or hostage syndrome, was first observed in hostages. When hostages lose faith in rescue efforts, they begin to rely on their captors, even developing feelings for them. If the captors show them even a hint of kindness, the hostages may become their accomplices, helping them achieve their goals in exchange for freedom. Psychologically, it’s because the hostages fear being abandoned. Although the captor is the one harming them, he’s still with them, paying close attention to them. This makes women feel closer to their captor. Women would rather be treated harshly than be ignored. The most common complaint I hear from drunk clients is that their husbands neglect them.”

“Ukyo, you’ve opened a new chapter in my understanding of the host’s technique! Keep going! I’m eager to hear more!” The manager leaned forward, his ears practically twitching in anticipation.

“Once we understand the clients’ psychological state, we can treat it accordingly. I don’t need to be fluent in Japanese to play the role they expect. I don’t need to cater to them deliberately. No matter what they say, I won’t show any emotional reaction. Instead, I’ll remain cold and distant. To them, I’m like a captor in a hostage situation—present but unreachable, maintaining psychological pressure on them. Due to the characteristics of Stockholm syndrome, they’ll start thinking, ‘He’s intentionally being this harsh to me,’ which makes them feel noticed. And that’s what they truly need—attention.”

The manager clapped his hands excitedly, “Brilliant! Brilliant!”

“I’ve only learned one phrase in Japanese over the past few days, and I use it whenever the clients seem ready to leave,” Chu Zihang said, his face solemn as he gathered his strength, almost like reciting a mystical incantation, “『じゃあこれで今日は終わりにする。君は家に帰って、よく寝たほうがいいね【So, is that it for tonight? Why not go home early and cry yourself to sleep?】』. This kind of blunt language further wounds the clients’ pride. As successful women in the workplace, it provokes their competitiveness and fighting spirit, leading them to stay longer and buy more drinks, increasing my sales.”

“Ukyo, you’ve fully evolved! This is your complete form!” Lu Mingfei was stunned, never having seen Chu Zihang appear so tall and mighty—practically a saint, prophet, and conqueror in the world of hosts.

Chu Zihang returned to the long sofa. Lu Mingfei, with great reluctance, stood up. Whether he stuck his neck out or shrunk back, it was a one-time cut either way. A brave person wins in a showdown, and he decided to go for it.

His heart was racing, feeling as if he had 15 buckets tumbling inside him. Caesar and Chu Zihang might be new to this too, but at least they had some natural charm with women. Even if they hadn’t “eaten pork,” they had at least “seen pigs run”… But Lu Mingfei had only been close to three girls in his life: Chen Wenwen, Nono, and Xia Mi. Two of their boyfriends, or potential boyfriends, were sitting right behind him, while the other had already joined hands with Zhao Menghua, walking the righteous path toward faith, far removed from his own degenerate world as a host.

The more he thought about it, the more his confidence plummeted. What were women? How do you charm them? He’d pondered this for years without figuring it out—how could he possibly figure it out on the spot?

“Little Sakura,” the manager said slowly.

“Here!” Lu Mingfei shuddered with fear.

The manager’s iron-hard face suddenly softened into a smile, and he patted the seat beside him, “Sakura-kun, come sit next to me. I saved this seat for you.”

The wide ocean-blue velvet sofa could comfortably seat three people. The manager sat in the middle, with the left side reserved for his Himalayan cat, and the right side saved just for Lu Mingfei. Even the top-ranking Basara King and second-ranking Ukyo hadn’t received such an honor. There was no way to refuse, so Lu Mingfei gingerly sat down, his hands nervously clasped between his knees. The overpowering scent of the manager’s cologne made his head spin, but he absolutely couldn’t pass out now—if he did, he might fall right into the manager’s arms.

The manager placed a hand on Lu Mingfei’s shoulder and gently stroked it. “At first glance, Sakura-kun, you remind me of my younger self,” he said with a sigh. “So youthful, so sensitive, easily struck by melancholy.”

Lu Mingfei stole a glance at the powerful man beside him and couldn’t help but picture a scene in his head: a bear embracing an otter, sitting on a rice field, with the bear saying, “Ah, otter, the world is vast, but only you understand my delicate, sensitive soul.”

“Ah, young love is always poetic,” the manager recited a Chinese poem with impressive fluency. “‘In the morning we sit together, speaking of love’s longing; then turn away beneath the orchid window, calling you to come play with crickets.’ I wrote this when I was young. Back then, I was obsessed with Chinese poetry.”

Lu Mingfei slowly widened his eyes, doing his best to show an expression of deep understanding, as if he had just been enlightened by the profound beauty of the poem.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Sakura-kun?” The manager asked in a casual, chatty tone.

“Not yet,” Lu Mingfei blurted out, instantly regretting it. He had basically just said, “I have no experience in this field.”

“How wonderful, how wonderful. Young love is always poetic. A poem is perfect before it’s written, but once it’s on paper, it becomes mundane,” the manager said softly, then asked, “Is there a girl you like, Sakura-kun?”

Caesar and Chu Zihang exchanged glances. When the manager had interviewed them, the atmosphere was tense, but now it was calm and gentle, more like an uncle catching up with a distant nephew.