21: Chapter 21: Let the Burj Al Arab dazzle the whole world!

The revolving door was violently pushed open by a force. Not the wind, but a person.

A hand reached out from the gap, the suit cuff crisp, the cufflinks pure gold. That hand precisely grabbed Li Li's forearm with immense force, almost pinching through the shirt into his flesh.

"Come in! Quick!"

English, with a heavy Arabic accent.

Li Li was dragged in by brute force, with Jiang Rumu following closely behind, pulling her suitcase.

The door closed behind them, instantly cutting off the forty-one-degree heatwave. The oncoming blast of air conditioning caused the thin sweat on their skin to freeze instantly, raising goosebumps.

The lobby was pitch black.

The main chandelier, wall lamps, floor lamps... all light sources were extinguished.

The only light came from the figures scattered throughout the lobby. They stood or sat, no one speaking, only the pale glow from dozens of mobile phone screens illuminating one tense face after another.

The air was so oppressive it made it hard to breathe.

The middle-aged man who had grabbed Li Li let go. He was in his early fifties, with graying hair, a well-tailored suit, and a gold brooch in the shape of a sailboat pinned to his collar.

The Hotel Manager.

"Are you guests?" he asked in English, his voice very low.

Li Li took out his phone, swiped the screen, and pulled up the booking email from the Production Team. Jiang Rumu also took her passport out of her bag.

The Hotel Manager took the phone and passport and walked quickly behind the front desk. In the darkness, only one computer screen remained lit, clearly connected to a backup power supply. He bent down, fingers tapping on the keyboard, verifying the information.

A few seconds later, he looked up, his expression as if he had swallowed a fly.

"Sir, Madam, I have found the booking record." His English was fluent, but at this moment, every word seemed squeezed out from between his teeth. "A Chinese production company... five two-bedroom suites, two three-bedroom suites..."

He paused, then struggled to spit out the last two words.

"Seven suites."

He said the words "seven suites" in a tone worse than crying.

Li Li's gaze crossed over him and swept toward the people in white robes in the lobby. The Middle East culture crash course provided by the system told him that the fabric of those white robes was Swiss handmade cotton, with royal-grade hidden embroidery on the cuffs.

A young man in a white robe walked out from the shadows of a pillar. Twenty-five or twenty-six years old, with deep-set features, his headscarf secured by a golden cord, his steps steady.

He walked to the Hotel Manager and asked in Arabic: "What is the matter?"

The Hotel Manager immediately turned to the side and whispered a quick explanation of the situation.

After listening, the young man in the white robe shook his head and cast his gaze toward Li Li and Jiang Rumu with a scrutinizing look. Then, he said a few words to the Hotel Manager in Arabic.

The Hotel Manager took a deep breath and walked back to the counter, placing his hands folded on the surface.

"The two of you, I am truly sorry." He switched back to English. "You have seen the situation outside. Many... important figures are arriving with their families. We need to reserve rooms for them. Seven suites, I cannot guarantee."

He paused, his tone carrying a trace of imperceptible superiority.

"Also, if you will excuse my frankness, your companions will not be able to arrive in the short term. The airport has been completely sealed off."

Li Li did not speak.

Seven suites—it was a waste for just the two of them. The hotel needed to clear rooms for royalty and high-level officials; there was nothing wrong with the business logic.

Forget it, having one suite to stay in was enough.

He was just about to say "One suite is enough."

"Li Li."

Jiang Rumu's voice came from his side.

She was standing half a step behind him to his left, her long black hair draped over her shoulders, the red dot of the micro-lens at her collar blinking in the darkness.

Over nine million viewers were watching everything unfolding before them through this tiny lens.

"What about the others?"

These five simple words were like a needle pricking Li Li's nerves.

He turned his head.

Jiang Rumu was not looking at him; her gaze passed through the gap in the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking toward the black smoke that had not yet dissipated outside.

"Four female guests, at least ten female staff members." Her voice was extremely low, audible only to him. "If they cannot stay here, they will be diverted elsewhere."

She paused for a second before saying the most critical sentence.

"You know what the Middle East in wartime means for a woman alone."

Li Li's fingers rubbed silently against the seam of his trousers.

She was right.

Qi Wanyin, Yin Ruoying, Fang Ruowei, Wen Ditang, and Director Pei Zhao and those dozen or so female producers... if this group were thrown into a lawless temporary shelter, the consequences would be unimaginable.

More importantly, if the show failed, the system would deem the mission a failure, and he might lose all his skills.

By then, let alone returning to his country, he wouldn't even be able to afford a bottle of water.

Therefore, the show must continue.

Everyone must stay here.

Li Li withdrew his fingers, turned around, and faced the Hotel Manager.

He spoke.

In Arabic, even more authentic than the other party's.

"May I ask, who is in charge here?"

The voice was not loud, but it was like a stone thrown into stagnant water.

The Hotel Manager recoiled half a step, his hands springing up from the counter. He looked at Li Li in disbelief, from his old shoes covered in sand to his face soaked in sweat.

A Chinese person who arrived on a Yadea, carrying a bag of snacks swiped from the plane... speaking Arabic so fluently it made him feel inferior?

The Hotel Manager turned his head and shouted to the young man in the white robe.

The young man in the white robe was about to walk away, but hearing the shout, he stopped and turned back.

He stood still in front of Li Li, looking him up and down for three seconds.

"You speak Arabic?" he asked in Arabic.

"Yes."

"Where did you learn it?"

"Talent." Li Li did not change his expression.

The young man in the white robe stared at him for two seconds, did not pursue the question further, and extended his right hand.

"Fahd bin Deputy Prime Minister Mohammed Al Maktoum. The seventh son of the Dubai Royal Family, Vice Chairman of Jumeirah Group."

Li Li shook it.

This building, he was in charge.

"Li Li. Chinese. Profession... is quite complex."

Fahd released his hand, crossing his arms over his chest. The cuff of his white robe slid down, revealing a Patek Philippe.

Li Li glanced at the dark lobby.

"Turn off all the lights," he said in Arabic. "Do you want to make the Burj Al Arab 'disappear' from satellite maps?"

Fahd nodded: "The raid by the Israel, you saw it too. Before they officially admit it, all landmarks are potential targets. We can only... hide for now."

"Hide?" Li Li asked back. "Your Highness, the Seventh Prince, let me ask you a question."

"Please speak."

"In this world, who doesn't know where the Burj Al Arab is?"

Fahd's lips moved, but he made no sound.

Li Li stepped forward.

"It is in the database of every commercial satellite, on the 3D models of Google Maps, precise to every pane of glass. You turn off the lights, and it is still here. You pull the curtains, and its shadow is still a 210-meter-tall sailboat."

He enunciated every word.

"You cannot hide it."

In the lobby, those few men in white robes all turned their heads, looking with suspicion and uncertainty at this Chinese man who dared to speak to the Prince in such a tone.

That was not a request; it was a statement.

"So," Fahd's chin lifted by a centimeter, "what do you mean?"

"Lights, all on."

Fahd's pupils contracted.

"Doors, all open. Business as usual."

Li Li's volume was not loud, but it clearly carried throughout the deathly silent lobby.

"In the lobby, outside the hotel, on the road one kilometer away, set up live streaming equipment everywhere. Twenty-four hours, live stream the Burj Al Arab to the whole world."

The tendons on Fahd's wrist tightened.

"Let the whole world see—Dubai is still here, the Burj Al Arab is still here, the Ala Country has not fallen!"

Deathly silence.

Three seconds later, Fahd spoke, his voice hoarse: "What if they don't play by the rules and attack civilian facilities directly?"

Li Li looked at him.

"Then you will be the next Deputy Prime Minister Mohammed, becoming a martyr to inspire the nation. History books will write a whole chapter about you, the kind with portraits."

The corner of Fahd's mouth twitched.

Li Li lifted his chin, pointing to the red dot flashing on his collar: "And, they wouldn't dare."

"Why?"

"Because we are here." Li Li held up a finger. "We are a Dating Reality Show from the East, ten guests, thirty-plus staff members. The show has twenty million viewers watching in the country."

He held up a second finger.

"And, a global live stream will start immediately. By then, every blade of grass and tree in this building will appear on the screens of tens of millions of people around the world."

He held up a third finger, almost poking Fahd's nose.

"If the Israel dares to bomb this building, it is equivalent to bombing a group of civilians from the East who are recording a dating show, right in front of the whole world."

"Do you think they dare to go to war directly with the East?"

The air solidified.

Fahd stared at Li Li for a full five seconds.

He raised his hand, touched the golden cord on his headscarf, then turned abruptly and pulled out his phone.

He dialed a number.

"Engineering Department? Within five minutes, restore lighting to all floors! Exterior floodlighting system, start at full power! Open the main lobby doors!"

He hung up. He dialed another one.

"IT Department? Get the big screen in the banquet hall up for me, connect an international live stream line, max out the bandwidth!"

He hung up.

Fahd put his phone back in his pocket, turned to Li Li again, and extended his hand.

"Mr. Li."

Li Li shook it.

"Your rooms—seven suites, not one less."

The Hotel Manager beside them had his mouth open in a perfect O-shape.

Just then, the main chandelier in the lobby lit up.

From the top of the atrium, sixty meters high, warm yellow light poured down. Floor by floor, lamp by lamp, the lights of the entire Burj Al Arab were awakening one after another from top to bottom.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, night had already fallen.

But the floodlights on the exterior of the Burj Al Arab exploded into life, bands of white, gold, and blue light rolling from the bottom to the top, forcibly stripping this 210-meter-tall white sail from the dark night of war, shining blindingly bright.

Li Li's live stream room, the barrage of comments made the server lag again.

But he didn't look.

He turned his left wrist.

Under the skin, a line of blue text appeared quietly.

[Ding. Hidden tier reward (1 million fans) unlocked.]

[Reward content: War Correspondent · Full Media Live Streaming Kit.]

[Note: Given the current situation, the system chooses to shut up.]

The elevator doors opened. Fahd gestured for him to enter.

As Jiang Rumu pulled her suitcase and walked past Li Li, she tilted her head and said in a voice only he could hear:

"Shouldn't you update your resume?"

Li Li followed her into the elevator.

"No rush."

"Hmm?"

"There are still several pages left."

The elevator doors slowly closed, the mirrored inner walls reflecting their silhouettes. The floor numbers climbed rapidly.

"Ding—"

The twentieth floor arrived. The elevator doors opened, and Li Li walked out first, arriving at the floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the corridor.

Outside the glass, the myriad lights of the Burj Al Arab, like a golden sword, split the pitch-black sea surface of the Persian Gulf, paving a blinding path of light that reached straight to the horizon.

At the end of the path of light, the silhouette of that gray destroyer was illuminated clearly.

It was like a shark startled by the light, its gun barrel slowly turning.