I became a son-in-law in the United States

Yes, the salon had already started even before Rose and her daughter arrived.

This is not a good sign.

Either the other person forgot about you, or it was intentional. Either way, it's emotionally unacceptable, and that's deliberate humiliation.

The clever Mrs. Rose was well aware of this, and seeing the scene before her, she turned to leave.

"Jia, let's go back."

She tugged at her daughter's sleeve and found that Jia was standing still, motionless.

At the crucial moment, Jia remained remarkably calm, displaying a quality completely different from her mother. She paused for a moment, then said to her mother:

"Mom, if you leave now, they'll be so happy, and then guess what they'll say about you?"

"But Gia..."

Mrs. Rose was furious; her face turned red.

She had expected to be a respected guest, receiving basic respect and courtesy, and to sit at the table and eat with the other wasp ladies.

But in reality, she was overthinking things, or rather, from the moment she received Mrs. Whitney's invitation, she had imagined many scenarios that didn't actually happen.

They never intended to respect her, a nouveau riche Irish woman, because there was simply no need for it.

It's important to understand that although Mrs. Rose is of Irish descent, she is no ordinary person. She is the daughter of the former mayor of Boston. Having grown up in social circles, how could she not understand these signals?

She was somewhat angry, and her emotions surged. She wanted to leave immediately, but Jia's words made her hesitate.

Yes, they clearly did it on purpose; your leaving played right into their hands.

What will people say then? They'll say this family is petty, rude, and left without saying goodbye.

Don't underestimate these seemingly minor matters. After being stirred up by the upper-class ladies, the mother and daughter will be ruined and it might even affect Joseph's election campaign.

That's all there is to it.

Fortunately, this time Gia was there. The eldest daughter of the Kennedy family inherited her husband's composure and saw through the truth of the matter at a glance.

As the old saying goes, those who can see through the essence at a glance and those who can't see it their whole lives are destined for two completely different fates.

So Gia didn't hesitate, pulled Mrs. Ross inside, found a seat, and sat down.

The banquet hall paused for a moment, as if time had stood still. A second later, the ladies resumed their smiles.

Mrs. Whitney quickly came over, apologizing profusely.

"I'm so sorry, darling, they started doing it on their own while I was away," she explained with a faint smile.

This is a basic attack, a common tactic. If anything goes wrong, don't hesitate to blame it on someone else; out of politeness, they won't say anything.

"It's alright," Mrs. Rose said with a smile, regaining her composure. "I admired your garden on my way here, especially the palm trees."

"Yes, speaking of these palm trees, they have quite a history. My husband is currently mining in Africa, and these were all shipped from the Gold Coast. They just arrived last week."

"Really? Madam, you manage the manor so well; it's truly enviable..."

"Oh ho ho ho..."

After a few words, the previous awkwardness and "misunderstanding" vanished instantly. Mrs. Whitney demonstrated her superb skills and excellent taste, while Mrs. Rose displayed her elegance and poise.

Win-win.

Then Rose and her daughter entered the salon and squeezed in among the other ladies.

These are all wives from the wasp circle; their harassment is never as direct as a dockside brawl.

The wives are all skilled at using subtle tactics. They wear kind and friendly smiles on their faces, but say harsh things in their mouths, making you suffer without being able to retaliate.

But today was different, because Mrs. Whitney was hosting a literary salon, and the guests were all ladies who loved literature. It was said that she had also invited a young writer.

Soon, under Mrs. Whitney's guidance, the salon returned to its original rhythm.

After the pleasantries, Mrs. Whitney took out her recently written poems and began to read them aloud to the public.

"Ah...the night at the seaside, how deep, how bright, how intoxicating you are."

"Ah... stars in the sky, how romantic, how dazzling, how enchanting you are."

"Ah...the one I love, how sorrowful, how heartbroken, how reluctant I am to let you go."

After Mrs. Whitney finished reading, the second, third, and so on...

After reading for a while, the ladies looked on with admiration and smiled, but Jia's heart was racing and she couldn't take it anymore.

Perhaps influenced by Luther, she didn't think these things were poetry at all; they were just piles of fancy words, empty rhetoric, and rambling nonsense.

Mrs. Whitney said a lot, but it all boiled down to two words: emptiness.

Yes, that's how people are. They suffer when they're not satisfied, but feel empty once they are. They're forever oscillating between these two extremes, life after life.

They persisted like this for almost an hour before the ladies finished sharing the poems they had written, but that wasn't the end of it.

According to the rules of the salons of that era, the next step was a time for free discussion, where the ladies could speak freely and express their views on literature.

The ladies were also very proactive, speaking up one after another, spouting a few words they'd picked up from who-knows-where.

At first, the atmosphere was good, the theme was clear, and everyone had common topics, so much so that Jia Zhen thought it was a literary gathering.

But as they talked, the atmosphere somehow changed. The ladies moved from literature to poetry, from poetry to prose, and then from prose to novels...

Once we get to this part of the novel, things get out of control, with all sorts of strange and unusual events and recent news being brought up one by one.

Jia sighed, then realized that the ladies were about to have their main course.

The first to appear was Mrs. Whitney's niece, who, like Gia, was a student at Wellesley College.

In front of everyone, the girl first greeted them in a friendly manner and chatted about some things at school.

After the two became a little more familiar with each other, she asked a seemingly unrelated question.

"Gia, your dress... is so unique... which designer in Paris created it? I don't think I've ever seen this style before."

This statement seems reasonable at first glance, but upon closer examination, it reveals significant problems.

Because the other party clearly implied that the dress might be a "copy" or a "high-quality replica," since people in the industry are familiar with the Parisian designer's style.

Jia smiled and immediately retaliated.

"This is a collection by Lucien Lelong from Paris, from this spring. It was only released last month. The production of this batch of fabric was very small, and only a few pieces were made. I waited more than a month to receive it."

After Jia finished speaking, the other person was speechless.

Because she accurately stated the designer's name and the release date, it was enough to prove that this was not a style she bought casually.

Seeing this, Mrs. Rose quickly added, "Mr. Lelong specifically confirmed with me that this is one of his few three-dimensional draping works. He said that this technique is almost lost in Paris."

In the first round, Jiya won by a narrow margin.

The wives weren't angry, because there was always a second round...

P.S.: I need the data and follow-up reading!