26: Chapter 26 Alien Beauty

Inside the conference room, Bloom nodded: "From a sociological perspective, physiological needs are the most basic and indispensable level of human needs."

"They cannot be 'turned off,' at least not within the physiological framework of this vessel; it is impossible to turn them off completely. Hunger, he can satisfy. Sleep, he can satisfy."

"But sex is the most unique among physiological needs. Unlike hunger and sleep, it cannot be accomplished alone. It requires another human being. It is the most social of all human physiological needs."

He tapped his fingers lightly on the table: "If he also reacts to this need, then perhaps we can observe a more authentic version of him."

"I understand," President Trump said, moving his hand away from his chin. "Nobody understands beauty better than I do. I'll contact Hollywood right now; I know a few excellent world-class supermodels, they are absolutely..."

"Wait, Mr. President," Fish's voice came from the other side of the table.

Fish picked up a picture from the table and held it up so everyone could see.

Chen Mu's face was magnified to fill the entire photo. The arc of his mouth was clearly visible under Fish's annotations; a red line marked the contraction trajectory of the zygomaticus major muscle, and a blue line marked the contraction range of the orbicularis oculi muscle. The two lines almost intersected at a certain point.

"The so-called 'honey trap' doesn't work with just beauty alone."

"We also need to make the adversary lower their psychological defenses. Only then is it possible to extract the intelligence we need."

"If we send a strange supermodel, then no matter how beautiful she is, the other party will know immediately that this is a probe."

President Trump withdrew his hand from mid-air and rubbed his chin: "Psychological defenses?"

Advisor Cole's voice came from the other side of the table, "You mean Officer Maya."

Fish nodded. He placed the screenshot back on the table and moved his finger away from Chen Mu's mouth.

"Officer Maya is perhaps the only person on this planet right now who is relatively familiar with him."

"And because she already treated him as a 'person' before she knew who he was."

"We cannot do that. The first second we met him, we knew he was an alien ambassador. We can never look at him the way she does."

Professor Ache placed the turquoise pendant on the table: "In mythology, there is a recurring theme: when gods or demigods descend to the mortal world, everyone either kneels or draws their swords. Only one type of person makes a god lay down their divine power."

"Those are the people who don't know he is a god—not pretending not to know, but truly not knowing. Because only in the eyes of such people can a god temporarily set down the weight of the 'god' identity and become a being that can be touched, hurt, and loved once again."

"Are you sure this will work?" President Trump touched his hair.

Fish gathered the screenshots of Chen Mu's micro-expressions one by one: "Not certain, Mr. President. Our psychological modeling of him is still at a very rudimentary stage."

"However, this is just a probe."

President Trump picked up his cola and downed it in one gulp: "Cole, I'm leaving this entirely to you. Codename: Alien Beauty!"

Cole nodded.

"Meeting adjourned."

Second basement floor, safe house.

Maya sat on the sofa, chatting with her sister.

[Sister: Sis, the news says you saved the Blue Planet, is that true?

Maya: I just bought him a KFC meal, don't listen to the nonsense online. Also, I'm sorry I missed your birthday. I should be able to go back in a few days.

Sister: That's not important, Sis. When you get back, can you take me to meet that alien ambassador?]

Just as Maya was thinking about how to reply, the door opened, and Cole stood at the doorway.

"Officer Maya, please come with me."

Maya stood up from the sofa and followed him out: "Are you going to let us go?"

Cole didn't look back: "You'll know when we get there."

They stopped in front of a door upstairs, and Cole pushed it open.

There were seven or eight people standing in the room. Some were carrying makeup cases, some were pushing rolling racks filled with clothes, some were crouching on the floor opening a suitcase full of shoes, and some were setting up a ring light, just like a movie set.

Cole clapped his hands, and everyone stopped what they were doing simultaneously.

A woman in a black dress walked toward Maya and circled her.

Her gaze swept from Maya's hair tips to her heels and back again, then she noted something on her tablet.

"She's in your hands," Cole said.

The woman in the black dress nodded.

For the next two hours, Maya Rodriguez felt like an old house that had been declared in need of a complete renovation.

Her hair was let down, washed, dried, trimmed, put up again, and let down once more.

Someone took off her uniform jacket, put on a dress, took it off, put on another, and took it off again. She felt like a sculpture being shaped by countless hands at once.

She closed her eyes, and after who knows how long, all the hands left at the same time.

"All done," the woman in the black dress said. Her voice carried a professional satisfaction, like a sculptor who had finally completed her most time-consuming work.

Maya opened her eyes, and the woman in the mirror looked back at her. A deep blue dress, the hem falling exactly one inch below her knees, with a tailored waist that outlined a curve she never knew she possessed.

Her dark hair was loosely pinned behind her head, with a few stray strands falling by her ears, revealing the line of her entire neck.

That female police officer who had patrolled the streets of Brooklyn for three years seemed, in an instant, to have turned into a top model from Europa.

It turned out that Maya's foundation wasn't bad at all; it was just the daily toil, combined with a lack of financial nourishment and good clothing coordination.

Now, after being transformed by these top stylists from the United States, she was not the least bit inferior to those famous models.

Cole stood behind Maya and waved his hand at the makeup artists and stylists by the door.

They quickly packed up their things and left the room one by one.

The woman in the black dress was the last to leave. When she reached the door, she stopped and looked back at Maya.

"The foundation is very good. It just lacked a bit of light."

The door closed gently behind her. Only Cole and Maya were left in the room.

"Officer Maya, I need you to carry out a mission."