Chapter 127: Overly Disciplined

[Chapter 127: Overly Disciplined]

[41 (no photos uploaded): I have heard of the forum's reputation for a long time!]

[4444 (7.1): @Ryan...]

[22222 (7.3): A new short code has appeared, report your name.]

[13Taylor (8.7): She is my friend.]

[5854 (8.1): Do you want to watch the live broadcast too?]

[13Taylor (8.7):...]

[41 (no photos uploaded): Is there really a live broadcast?]

[13Taylor (8.7): Stop it, Selena.]

[3111 (no photo uploaded): Selena Gomez?]

[15Debicki (8.9): It's getting more and more lively]

"Why does everyone have a number following their ID?" Taylor wondered aloud as she noticed that every user on Ryan's page had a score, while her own page looked the same as before.

"Oh, there was a hot girl contest before, encouraging fans to upload selfies. I had Veronica connect the scoring system," Ryan explained.

"I didn't upload a photo, and why is my score so low? Who is this 15 person? Why is her score higher than mine?" Taylor exclaimed.

"You know, men's tastes are different from women's. The majority of voters now are probably male users," Ryan patiently clarified.

"You know how guys are -- their needs are simple, waist, legs, curves; at least one of those has to be there. Number 15 probably uploaded a sexier photo. That doesn't mean she's prettier than you," Ryan continued.

After hearing Ryan's explanation, Taylor felt a bit better about her score.

Ryan intentionally shared the scoring link in places frequented by male users. The resulting selections were naturally the kinds of girls that appealed to them, fitting Ryan's practical needs.

"And as time goes on, more people will evaluate, so your score might go up," Ryan concluded.

...

At that moment, Elizabeth Olsen sent a private message to Ryan.

[16Olsen: sTRay series has launched at The Row stores, going on sale tomorrow.]

The Row was the Olsen sisters' high-end brand. Under their advice, sTRay followed suit, with average prices exceeding four figures.

For Ryan, it was a no-risk situation since he hadn't invested a dime into the fashion line. He earned a commission with every sale.

"I'm going to take a shower," Taylor suddenly announced.

"Make sure to clean your butt well," Ryan said casually while still chatting with Elizabeth.

"Why don't you help me wash?" Taylor teased, a smirk on her face, sounding more comfortable than usual.

"That's fine, I'd clean you even better," Ryan quickly replied.

Seeing Ryan stand up, Taylor's smile faltered as she suddenly realized what he had in mind.

...

"...Enough, enough." Taylor was now in the bathtub, one leg curled up, slightly sideways, her brows furrowed, and her expression uncomfortable.

"Almost there," Ryan nodded.

Just then, Ryan's phone on the sink rang with an old-school ringtone.

This was a specially set alarm.

Taylor opened her eyes only to see Ryan had walked out, seemingly distracted by something.

"What are you doing?" Taylor propped herself up, abandoning her previous delicate demeanor.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. I set an alarm; I'm going to work out for three hours every day, and anything else will be put on hold during that time -- including... you," Ryan said, drying off.

Taylor was taken aback while Ryan was already getting dressed.

"You're just leaving me here?" Taylor protested as she saw Ryan heading for the door.

Sure, discipline was a good thing, but being overly disciplined felt a bit excessive.

Ryan turned back and kissed her forehead while stroking her hair gently to reassure her. "Just wait for me to come back."

"I want to go too! I want to work out with you," Taylor declared, raising her fist, determining she still wanted to join Ryan.

...

"I can't do this anymore... Ryan... I really can't," Taylor panted as she leaned on the treadmill, her legs struggling to keep up with the moving belt. Having just changed into her workout gear, her toned abs revealed glimpses of sweat glistening on her skin, her face flushed as she gasped for air.

Ryan, on the treadmill beside her, reached over and stopped it for her.

Taylor leaned on her knees as she painfully made her way to a nearby chair, breathing heavily.

Watching Ryan from behind, she felt amazed at how fast he was moving; he was running at a pace several times quicker than hers, having been at it for nearly twenty minutes.

"No wonder he's so good at that..." Taylor thought, absently playing with her hair.

For Ryan, this was merely a warm-up. The real muscle maintenance came from strength training after cardio.

He sat on a high pulley machine, pulling down with both hands. This equipment mainly targeted the back muscles. Taylor stood nearby, watching as Ryan's muscles bulged with each pull, showcasing a unique aesthetic strength.

Taylor's heart raced in sync with Ryan's motions, feeling a mix of nervous tension, curiosity, and exhilaration -- much like a man watching porn for the first time. She was nervous, curious, and secretly happy. She was like a fan girl and took the initiative to wipe sweat for Ryan.

After training back, legs, arms, and chest, three hours quickly flew by.

...

"You must be exhausted, right?" Taylor asked with concern.

"Not really," Ryan observed Taylor in her form-fitting athletic attire; the workout made him feel more invigorated rather than tired, surging hormones only intensified his thoughts.

"Have Erica buy a soft cushion, the softer the better," Ryan said as they exited the gym.

"What do we need that for?" Taylor asked, momentarily confused.

"You might need it tomorrow," Ryan affirmed with a nod.

...

"Hiss..."

In first class on the plane, Taylor sat down then inhaled sharply, sweat beading on her forehead. She regretted not taking Ryan's advice yesterday and inwardly cursed him for being so reckless. Then she realized -- that thing is determined by genetics; Ryan had no control over it.

Next time, she'd stock up on baby oil... Taylor muttered to herself, leaning forward, barely fitting on the ample, plush airline seat.

...

At the same time, Ryan boarded his return flight, heading to a different destination than Taylor, so they couldn't sit on the same plane.

Upon landing, Ryan received a message that Ellie Goulding and her current boyfriend were waiting for him at the record label's office.

The club had fully established itself now, with steady crowd flow. On peak nights, there were 2500 people spending money, with an average daily footfall between 3500 to 4000, easily raking in over $40,000 per night. Most of this revenue came from ticket sales -- it wasn't an exaggeration to say it was "making money hand over fist." Before opening, Ryan thought the space was too large; now, he realized it felt too small. If there was a possibility to expand, revenue could increase even more.

The stable cash flow also quickly filled Ryan's pockets; phase two of the project, including the record label and remaining booth renovations, had already started.

As for the expansion plan, the property of the abandoned church was held by an asset management company, and Ryan had already sent someone to negotiate.

"Fifteen years? Are you kidding me!" Ellie Goulding's boyfriend shouted upon seeing the contract.

"This is just a record deal, not a lifetime commitment. Why the rush?" Ryan replied, his tone unimpressed.

"I... this term is just too long. If sales are poor, Ellie's music career will be locked down by you. Unless you shorten the term, this contract can't be signed," her boyfriend stated firmly, though quieter than before.

"Ellie, we can still contact other record labels, right? Several have already reached out to us," he hinted to Ellie.

Ellie quickly nodded. "Yes, that's right."

These guys' acting skills were lacking. Ryan shook his head, took a sip of soda, and continued, "We can also bypass the contract, but you'll have to pay the penalty in the locking agreement, which is just PS100,000."

"PS100,000? You only offered us PS5000 before!" Ellie exclaimed.

"And that's a deposit!" her boyfriend added.

"Oh really? You must not have read the contract closely -- that was an advance payment. The agreement we have gives my record label the priority to sign. If you sign with another label, no matter the offer, it counts as a breach of contract," Ryan explained calmly.

"Fuck you!" the young couple stood up abruptly.

*****

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