I Have 10 Trillion Dollars only Usable For Simping Chapter 2065: 1335: Thank You, Oppa

Seoul's premier Platinum Level hotel.

Jiang Chen sat with his legs crossed, reclining on the couch while casually viewing the television.

Naturally.

After all, this was Korea, and the news on TV was delivered in Korean, a language he definitely couldn't follow.

That said, it made no difference.

Two assistants of idol caliber were right there beside him, offering real-time interpretation.

This might explain why so many folks scramble to reach the pinnacle.

To put it objectively, Korea stands out as a truly enchanting nation, one that even its neighbor Japan, plagued by similar quirks, struggles to outmatch.

Consider the broadcast airing right now, for instance.

The National Assembly was clashing with the President, convening to vote on curbing presidential authority, particularly to eliminate the veto right outlined in the Constitution.

As is well known, under a parliamentary setup, the National Assembly holds the highest power, much like Shen Zhou's People's Congress. The President answers to it, and key decisions from the President require Assembly endorsement to move forward.

Certainly.

Still, the President isn't merely a figurehead; Korea's Constitution explicitly grants the President veto authority over Assembly resolutions.

The intent behind this is straightforward: to ensure equity and equilibrium.

The foundation was solid, yet reality frequently delivers absurd twists, leaving Korea's leaders in a ridiculous bind over this matter.

It's the classic tale of partisan rivalry—nothing new under the sun, since human societies breed rivalries wherever they exist, and rivalries spark disputes. However, globally, few spots rival Korea's brazen approach.

Typically, elites must uphold a facade of propriety.

Yet Korea's top officials? Forget the pretense; they simply aim to demolish their foes.

In Korea, Presidents who exit office gracefully are rare indeed, turning it into a global punchline that highlights the ferocity of the nation's political battles.

And this custom persists, carrying on without pause.

The report explicitly stated that the Assembly had approved yet another motion to probe the First Lady, launching a dedicated inquiry into her possible offenses.

Precisely.

They're targeting the First Lady for investigation.

In nearly any other country, such a move would spark outrage.

And note the crucial term in the coverage.

The word "again."

Indicating this isn't the initial attempt. Previously, these efforts were blocked by the President, who invoked the constitutional veto on grounds of spousal fidelity.

Even TV outlets were poking fun, speculating if the President would rise once more to shield his spouse.

The outcome is predictably affirmative.

After blocking numerous times before, what's one additional veto?

What does this represent?

Korea's ultimate display of loyalty.

Nevertheless, the Assembly presses on fiercely, fully recognizing the pair's unbreakable bond, yet refusing to yield, repeatedly pushing votes at breakneck speed no matter the vetoes.

You pass it, I block it—this goes beyond mere back-and-forth; it's free spectacle for Koreans and international onlookers alike.

If the power brokers' fights appear this messy, it's easy to picture the broader chaos in Korean society.

As an outsider, Jiang Chen refrained from weighing in, merely noting that the First Lady on screen seemed to have a poorly done facelift.

Far too obvious.

The heavy hand of cosmetic work was plain to see.

“Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong…”

The doorbell chimed.

One of the assistants headed to answer it.

Xing Jie entered the room.

“Where’s Xu Kuan?”

Jiang Chen inquired evenly, eyes fixed on the screen.

“He’s occupied.”

With Mr. Jiang silent, even at the peak of Seoul's elite circles, Xing Jie had no choice but to remain on his feet.

“That mishap from last night—it was Xu Kuan’s scheme, wasn’t it? He’s too scared to face you, so he dispatched you to shoulder the blame.”

Though not particularly aged, Boss Jiang proved remarkably perceptive.

Personalities vary widely; had Xu Kuan appeared, he'd likely feign ignorance and sidestep, but Xing Jie opted for quiet.

Forcing Jin Zhuxuan into the water could only stem from Xu Kuan's playful notion, and Jiang Chen chose not to vent his frustration on the straightforward subordinate.

“Sit.”

Xing Jie took a seat, glanced at the television, wisely steering clear of yesterday's fiasco, and observed, “Yin Ronghuan has to be the most bizarre president Korea has ever seen.”

“Cherishing one's wife isn't a fault; it's a strength.”

Boss Jiang offered a balanced defense for this ridiculed leader scorned by multitudes.

Undoubtedly.

Yet given the ongoing turmoil, even if this President deliberately avoided basing at the Blue House, he couldn't escape the deep-rooted jinx, no matter the endless tussles with the Assembly.

But what of it?

In ancient Shen Zhou, King You of Zhou ignited beacons solely to amuse his beloved. As a modern leader, is there harm in safeguarding his partner?

At most, the two could share the fate of pedaling sewing machines side by side.

No need to worry!

Across history, he's neither the pioneer nor the finale in this regard; even if not a sage monarch, he'll never stoop to being a cad!

The scene unfolding on the display.

True affection exists in the world—who claims partners are mere passing companions?

Of course, shielding one's wife so tenaciously amid opposition isn't solely from unadulterated romance—if not soulmates, they could be tied fates. Mr. Jiang's view was somewhat narrow, though Xing Jie had no intention of disputing it.

“Mr. Jiang, we should get going.”

“Hmm.”

During this trip to Korea, certain individuals warranted a meeting at this juncture.