"Hey, gorgeous, are your legs measured to the golden ratio? I've been staring for ages and can't find a single flaw."
Song Yanze leaned against the bar, turning a virtual glass of whiskey in his hand, a smile on his lips with a curve even the System couldn't calculate. The young woman in front of him wore a Barcelona jersey, her blonde hair tied in a ponytail, and a face so exquisitely beautiful it looked painted on. She heard him, covered her mouth, and laughed, the tips of her ears turning pink.
"How come you're such a smooth talker?"
"A smooth talker?" Song Yanze leaned closer and lowered his voice. "I'm just telling it like it is. Look at your calves: when you kick the ball, your gastrocnemius contracts and your Achilles tendon stretches. The golden ratio lands right at 0.618. I'm no good at math, but seeing you suddenly made me understand what beauty means."
The young woman laughed so hard she doubled over, her shoulders shaking. A few female fans nearby gathered around, teasing him all at once.
"Song's at it again!"
"Yesterday you said my eyes were like stars, and today you've moved on to someone else?"
"What do you know? Song's just making sure everyone gets a little attention!"
Song Yanze raised both hands in surrender, wearing the shameless expression of a man caught red-handed. "Hey, hey, ladies, spare me. I just can't stand to see beautiful things go unnoticed. The lot of you standing together are a riot of color. My mouth just can't help itself; it starts handing out compliments on its own."
Behind the bar, the bartender, Old Zhang, wiped a glass with an impassive look. He was an NPC, programmed to be a taciturn retired player who had opened this bar. Every day, all he did was wipe glasses, pour drinks, and wipe gla
