Paula's room is now in a complete mess. Ever since she was brought home from the police station by Lynn, she has been losing her temper. She threw everything she could in the room to the ground.

She now looked around the room and smashed everything to pieces except the chandelier on the ceiling and the floor-to-ceiling window on the wall.

Everything was smashed and the mood was vented.

Paula shook her hair and walked out of the bedroom. When the servants, who had been carrying brooms and dustpans for a long time, saw her out, they filed in and began to clear the battlefield in the young lady's bedroom.

Lynn, with her long legs folded, sat at the table with a cup of coffee beside her.

"I've told you so many times to learn to control your temper, but you never listen." Lynn has criticized Paula so many times that her daughter just won't change her bad habits.

"I'm just unlucky. So many people are playing and nothing is wrong, but when I go, Henry follows. He's doing it on purpose. He's targeting me." Paula pouted and complained to her mother.

"He's targeting you, you have to learn to confront him, instead of rambling around the house like a madman."

"He's been kicked out of the house now, and I can't even catch a glimpse of him. How can I confront him?"

"Your grandma is coming back soon." Lynn felt a headache at the mention of her mother-in-law, an old fellow who was very difficult to deal with. On the surface, she pretends to be crazy and confused, but in her heart, she is very clear and has defended Henry several times.

"Then we have no chance at all." Paula knew that grandma was Henry's backer.

"Not necessarily." Lynn sneered. "Don't you know what your grandma's hobbies are? To give her a taste, to try to show off, to try to pull her favoritism back from Henry, to cut off Henry's escape route, that's what you can do."

With such a hint from her mother, Paula suddenly understood what she should do next.

Early that morning, Bailey was busy with breakfast in the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

"Hello, is this Bailey's home?" A man with a ponytail and a white T-shirt asked.

"I am. Who are you?" Bailey didn't recognize the man in front of him at all.

The man took out two tickets and placed them in Bailey's hands, saying, "I'm Floyd's assistant. He asked me to pass them on to you."

Bailey took a look and saw that the two tickets were printed with "Close Listen to the Celestial Music - Floyd's Ascalia Concert", along with Floyd's elegant and graceful autograph.

"But I don't recognize Floyd."

Floyd is a star who is currently very popular. Not only does he sing great songs, but he is also handsome and talented, an idol singer. But Bailey was already of the age to chase stars and had only heard of the star's name and had no idea what he meant by giving him a ticket.

"Whether you know him or not, don't jump to conclusions too early. Go to the show yourself and you might be pleasantly surprised." Floyd's assistant smiled at Bailey and turned away.

Bailey had no idea what was going on.

Two tickets, apparently Floyd was inviting her to go with Tessa.

But Tessa was not in good health, so Bailey had to go to the concert alone.

Bailey thought of calling Henry and asking him to accompany her, but later, when she recalled how he had been scolding her with a cold face that day, she lost interest.

Bailey arrived at the concert venue according to the time and place indicated on his ticket.

With more than half an hour to go before the show began, Floyd's fans were dressed up like a carnival, holding up glow sticks and banners and cheering loudly for their idol.

Some fans who didn't get tickets were waiting at the ticket counter, hoping to get a refund.

"Tickets for the concert cost two thousand each. The seats are perfect. First come, first served." The scalpers shouted loudly, and many fans without tickets rushed over and surrounded him.

The scene was no different from the rush to buy train tickets during the Spring Festival travel rush.

Many of the little girls, all sixteen or seventeen years old, had little physical strength and could only be anxious outside but couldn't squeeze inside to get a ticket. Some of the little girls were so anxious that they cried.

And even worse, a girl dressed in red patent leather and wearing a sky-blue wig was pushed out of the crowd. She staggered back, but managed to hold onto a car parked by the roadside, and thus did not fall.

The car's alarm began to scream, making a shrill sound.

The owner of the car was a big, burly bald man with a gold chain as thick as a finger around his neck. He rushed over and, seeing the situation, was extremely angry. "My car is worth over a million and has just been waxed. You've got it dirty."

Saying this, he raised his hand to hit someone.

But when he raised his arm, he couldn't hit down. Because Bailey rushed over in one step and grabbed his wrist, "There's something to talk about. Why bother to hit someone? She didn't mean it."

The bald man was quite indignant and shouted at Bailey, "Mind your own business and get out of the way."

"Speak politely." Bailey's temper flared up too.

"Civilized nonsense." The bald man deliberately brought his mouth close to Bailey's face, being frivolous and impolite.

With force in his hand, Bailey turned the man's wrist behind his back and then lifted his leg to kick his bottom.

The man fell headfirst into the belt of green bushes.

Bailey patted the dust off his hands, shook his hair, and stood gracefully.

The onlookers cheered for Bailey's act of bravery.

The girl, who had just been saved by Bailey, also stood beside him. She was half a head shorter than Bailey in height.

"It's all right, little sister." Bailey thought she was frightened, so he comforted her, "You don't have to get the scalper ticket. I have an extra ticket to share with you."

Bailey took out the ticket with Floyd's autograph and handed it to the little girl.

"Wow, there's Floyd's autograph on this ticket." The girl shouted excitedly as soon as she saw the ticket. She jumped up and down, holding the ticket in her hand.

The blue wig on her head fell off, revealing a head of snow-white hair. At the same time, her sunglasses slipped down, revealing an old face inside.

Oh my God, what's going on? It's not sixteen or seventeen, it's sixty-seven.

Bailey stood there in astonishment, watching the star-chasing grandma jubilant.

"Grandma, you've lost your wig." Bailey reminded her a little awkwardly.

"Don't call me grandma. It's so old-fashioned. You should say, dear, you've lost your wig." The star-chasing grandma was still correcting Bailey's choice of words.

Bailey was taken aback and then asked cautiously; "Hey, how old are you this year?"

"Seventy-nine."

Bailey spat out a mouthful of old blood. Oh my god, this is really amazing.