Everyone looked at one another, their faces full of panic.
But they were wealthy, after all.
The heads of the families, the old men, and the old ladies could still keep their composure.
The younger generation, however, was different.
"Esteemed Grand Commander Lynn, what do you mean by this?" A handsome young man, who had once been exceptionally talented—
Equally adept at the piano, dancing, and painting—hurried over to strike up a conversation.
But a Political Commissar stepped forward to stop him. "My dear cousin, our Grand Commander has already made himself perfectly clear."
"Why don't you understand?"
The Political Commissar held out a hand to block him.
"This is an ambush! Are you deliberately holding a dance to round us all up?" A young girl cried out in alarm and raised her hand to point, only for her grandfather to slap her at once.
"You youngsters, stop causing trouble!"
"Likewise. Back in my day, I got the full treatment: a meeting, exile, and a whole send-off with gongs and drums." Lynn shook the documents in his hand. "Everyone, the younger members of your families usually enjoy fine clothes and singing and dancing. Their greatest pleasure is showing themselves off to gain advantages."
"They don't understand anything else. All they know is how to socialize and have fun together."
"And you? You don't understand either?"
"Understand what, Grandpa?" The younger generation began asking their elders what had happened.
Years ago, in Lynn's memory,
every dance inevitably turned into a contest of one-upmanship.
It wasn't really any different from comparing oneself with relatives, except that the topics were more sophisticated and the stakes were higher.
Then there was the classic routine of men pursuing women and women pursuing men, each showing off to the other.
Lynn had hated it back then.