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Chapter 383 Hugh Hefner's Strangeness

Hidden Mountain City.

The spacious master bedroom was filled with a warm and ambiguous atmosphere. Clothes scattered throughout the room now looked like carelessly discarded trash, adding a touch of absurd passion to the atmosphere.

Her curvaceous body undulated like waves, her silk robe had long since slipped down to her waist, but her face, hailed as being sculpted by God himself, showed no sign of joy. Her brows were furrowed, her lips were downturned, and even her eyes carried a hint of despair.

"So, does love really disappear?"

Ok?

Ernst snapped back to reality, his gaze shifting from the crystal chandelier on the ceiling.

"You don't care anymore once you've got it?" Theron's voice was almost overflowing with grievance when she saw that he didn't speak.

"Tell me when you're done playing, then I'll leave?"

The face of the Cyron in front of him suddenly began to blur and distort for some reason, and the next second it turned into the face of an old lady.

Ernst was so startled he almost jumped up on the spot, as if the blurry image had only flashed by and then returned to normal in an instant.

"What exactly are you trying to say?" Ernst took a deep breath and asked irritably.

"At a time like this, you're still thinking about other women? What do you think I'm thinking about?" Theron's tone instantly became domineering, like a lion that had been provoked.

"Which woman am I thinking about?" Ernst was baffled by the question, then muttered under his breath, "I was definitely thinking about men."

Sometimes, language really is superfluous.

He wasn't deliberately getting distracted at this moment; he was simply driven crazy by those lunatics at Bell Labs.

Just as he was boarding the plane to return to Los Angeles, a private jet employed by Bell Labs was parked on the tarmac next to him.

Many of the equipment pieces were too heavy, and given that New Jersey to California is a long and winding road spanning the entire American continent, air freight was definitely the best option.

So Bell Labs chartered multiple airlines' planes, making several trips a day, like a dedicated logistics line, just to ensure that equipment, data, and personnel could arrive in Redwood City, California, in the fastest and safest way.

These planes are not only transporting equipment and documents, but also tens of thousands of employees, and even their families.

Some family members set off early, intending to rent a house in Redwood City first, and then return to New Jersey to settle their accommodation.

Some families chose to sell their houses here first and then settle down in Redwood City.

Selling houses in the US is quite different from selling them in the East; all kinds of houses can be sold here.

In the US, especially for middle-class homes, the ideal is to be move-in ready. Just getting the house ready takes at least a week and requires hiring a professional housekeeping team for deep cleaning, which is no easy task.

Therefore, this massive migration across the American continent could not have been completed in less than one or two months.

Bell Labs had to charter planes to make multiple daily flights between the two locations to provide convenience, at a cost of over ten million US dollars.

However, Ernst's headache wasn't about money. What bothered him was that when he boarded the plane today, in the Bell Labs charter area, he saw a group of researchers from the communications department giving him friendly smiles.

Kindness is interpreted from the other person's perspective, but he felt that the smile was so sinister.

These lunatics from the communications department managed to pack everything in just half a day and board the plane to Redwood City.

So it wasn't that Theron lacked charm, but rather that Ernst had a persistent image in his mind: when he and Theron were passionately embracing each other, the bedroom window was suddenly opened, and a group of bespectacled old faces crowded around the window, holding research funding application forms, asking him when the research funding would arrive.

He knew it was impossible for this to happen, but the image kept replaying in his mind like a virus, making it impossible for him to concentrate on enjoying the present moment.

However, Theron didn't care about any of that; she only knew that her charm was still intact, and Ernst's reaction didn't lie.

Forget about being scorching hot, it's probably so hot it could generate static electricity.

She didn't know how she fell asleep, but when she opened her eyes again, she found that Ernst had gotten out of bed and was getting dressed.

"Are you going out?" Theron's voice was hoarse from just waking up.

"Let's go to Playboy Estate," Ernst said, reaching quickly and efficiently for his suit jacket on the chair.

Theron didn't say anything, but silently turned around, leaving his back to Ernst.

This action clearly expressed her current mood—unhappy, very unhappy.

Everyone knows that in a few days, the super show that has already become a global sensation will begin, and those angels have already moved into the luxurious villa at Playboy Estate.

But Cyril felt a little helpless. This bull was too much for her to handle. She didn't even want to move, let alone stop Ernst from going out.

She could only curse silently in her heart: How can this damn man have so much energy?

Ernst had no idea what Theron was thinking at that moment. Even if he did, he probably wouldn't explain why that old guy Hugh Hefner had called him earlier, sounding very pained and intermittent. Ernst even wondered if history had changed and that this old guy, known for his womanizing, was about to pass away.

Since the other party specifically requested that he meet at the Playboy Manor, he was determined to go and take a look, even though it was already past 11 p.m. and even though he had a beautiful woman in his arms.

He picked up the landline and dialed Muller's number. When he got dressed and arrived at the first floor of the villa, Muller and the others were already waiting at the door.

The car slowly drove out of the villa gate and headed towards the Playboy Estate.

Los Angeles at night is completely different from its bustling daytime scene. The streets are deserted, with only the occasional car passing by, its headlights casting two bright streaks in the darkness before quickly disappearing into the night.

As Ernst passed through several areas, he saw zombies on the streets.

Los Angeles isn't in such a bad state yet, but in another decade or so, these areas will become veritable zombie zones, like ghost towns, and the mere sight of them is enough to send chills down your spine.

The car arrived at the entrance of Playboy Estate without any obstacles. Even though it was late at night, the area was still brightly lit, and the word PLAYBOY on the huge neon sign at the entrance of the estate was flashing pink.

The roar of the car didn't disturb the people in the manor, not because of the good soundproofing, but because the angels in the manor were still awake and partying all night.

The moment Ernst opened the car door, he heard deafening music mixed with women's laughter and screams, as if a grand party was underway.

The story of a man and a group of women is unfolding here. An old man sits in the crowd, holding a wine glass in one hand and a cigar in the other. He has somehow found a new outfit, and all the angels have changed into bunny girl costumes that represent him.

Is this very painful?

If this is considered suffering, Ernst would rather live in this misery every day.

Seeing the other person beckoning, Ernst didn't go over immediately. Instead, he casually grabbed one of the bunny girls and asked, "What's going on?"

Ernst pointed to Hugh Hefner sitting in the middle of the crowd and asked, "What's going on?"

"A party, huh?" The bunny girl blinked her big blue eyes, as if she didn't understand why Ernst would ask such a simple question.

When Ernst heard this answer, he almost couldn't help but slap her twice.

I'm not blind, do you think I don't know you guys are having a party?

"I mean, what's up with Hugh Hefner? Why are you all wearing those bunny girl outfits again?"

A playboy is a playboy. As he said in an interview, he was sincere with every wife he had.

Whether she cheated on him in private is certain.

However, at least on the surface, there has never been a situation like today.

"I'm not entirely sure either." The other person shook his head. "Mr. Hefner arrived a little over an hour ago, saying he's throwing a big party tonight, and everyone who attends will receive $100,000."

Seeing Ernst looking at the bunny girl outfit she was wearing, the other person said again, "He just had it delivered. He said whoever wears it will get another $100,000. As for the rest, I don't know."

They really spared no expense, spending $200,000 per person and dozens of angels, totaling tens of millions of dollars in one night.

What exactly triggered this old man?

Is the following thing working again?

Did you go to the hospital for a checkup?

Or is the child not his?