Blackstone Code-Chapter 594: Developed Light Industry

People are strange.
As people move through different stages of life, their perspectives shift—often without them realizing. And at every stage, each person believes,
This is truly who I am
, until they step into the next.
When boys are young, they often play pranks on girls—pulling braids, poking with pens, making them cry. Not because they hate them or want to hurt them, but simply because they don’t know how to express their budding affection.
Girls mature a little earlier in thought. They tend to like someone quietly, rarely saying it out loud.
In adolescence, physical development brings psychological change. Boys begin to learn how to express admiration. They write poems and love letters, sing songs, pass notes. They’ll even cross half the city just to catch a glimpse of that surprised look on someone’s face.
They might think this feeling is forever. They believe they’ll always be drawn to vibrant, energetic people, and they’re heavily influenced by appearances and physical attraction—far more than anything else.
As adults, people start to value character and emotional connection. Compliments shift away from
You’re so pretty
or
You’re the most handsome
. Instead, they use more subtle, suggestive phrases like,
You’re impossible to resist
.
By middle age, people care more about something deeper, something that radiates from within. At this stage, they’ve already tried everything. Life settles into a calmer rhythm. The person who once wanted the universe to explode just to prove their love feels like a stranger now.
What they seek now is something fuller, more layered—not just one part of a person, but the whole.
Only then do they realize those beautiful young men and women have nothing else that truly attracts them. And in that realization, they understand—they’ve grown old.
They once swore they’d never be attracted to anyone over twenty-five. Now, that’s all they’re interested in.
The woman in front of Lynch was exactly the kind who could instantly command an older man’s full attention. Her appearance, her background, everything about her fit Lynch’s age-specific sense of attraction.
Lynch, after all, was a fifty-year-old soul in a young man’s body.
He looked the woman over from head to toe. This made Jania feel something hard to describe—it didn’t feel like being stared at by a young man. There was appreciation in Lynch’s gentle eyes, something she could read clearly. It stirred something inside her.
She had dealt with young men before. They were shallow—their gazes filled only with curiosity about mature women. They didn’t understand the difference between women like her and girls their age.
Or they looked at her with blatant, aggressive desire—a sign of something twisted, maybe even an Oedipal complex.
Lynch was different. His gaze was warm, like early summer sunlight—bright, not blinding. That quiet admiration made Jania want to show him an even better version of herself.
“You’re very brave, Jania,” Lynch said, raising his glass. “Is it too familiar if I call you that?”
“Oh no, I find it endearing,” Jania replied, clinking her glass against his.
There wasn’t much of a clink—just a soft, crystalline echo between them as they held each other’s gaze and took a sip.
If a sleazy director were behind the camera, he might cut in two voiceovers here:
Male voice:
I’ll show you 108 ways to feel my length!
Female voice:
You’ll never uncover the depths or heights of me—no one ever has!
Luckily, there was no such director. No cringe-worthy voiceover.
“I can understand your situation,” Lynch said. “Joining the film industry as a royal was a rebellious move. You must’ve been very young.”
If he’d said that to a younger woman, she might not have grasped the meaning. But Jania did. She nodded. “Exactly because I was young, I had the courage. And fortunately, that courage brought me a good ending.”
It truly was a bold act for a royal to join the film industry. Beyond the chaos of the film world, romantic scenes were inevitable—kissing, even intimate ones, albeit censored. Just the idea of random men kissing a royal princess on screen, even lying beside her in bed, was an affront to royal dignity.
This was why royalty was strictly barred from entertainment.
The monarchy had to remain distinct, superior. Jania’s actions were as rebellious as one could imagine.
If she’d made that decision at her current age, people would’ve called her insane. So it had to be something she did in her youth. After years of gradual acceptance, the public grew used to the idea of a royal actress. It became normal.
Otherwise, the Emperor would’ve long since locked her away—banished her from public sight entirely.
What Lynch didn’t know was that Jania hadn’t joined the industry entirely by choice. At the time, the battle for the throne was at its peak. Royal siblings were dropping dead left and right—both inside the palace and out.
Everyone knew why. Everyone knew who was behind it. But no one interfered. No one wanted to be on the wrong side of the future emperor.
So they just watched. Watched prince after princess fall, untouchable, dying in silence.
Cruel. Cold. Terrifying.
Jania had fled, using a false name to join a mildly risqué film. In its most daring scene, she wore a wet nightgown, her body barely concealed.
She didn’t cross any hard lines—she knew better. If she’d gone further, she might’ve died once the new emperor took the throne. The royal family would never tolerate a princess starring in an adult film.
But she had to soil her reputation, to convince everyone—especially the crown prince—that she posed no threat.
Her gamble paid off. After the new emperor took power, he had the palace maids beat her, strung her up, whipped her. He exiled the film’s cast and crew.
But he let her live. And let her keep acting.
Years passed. And only sometimes did she recall that chilling period.
So when Lynch called her brave, whether he knew her story or not, it made her feel understood.
She was a royal, yes—but a girl, too. And at that moment, she made a choice. A courageous one.
Her eyes sparkled. Lynch glanced around. “It’s a bit noisy here. Maybe we should go somewhere quieter.”
Was that too fast?
Jania looked at Lynch—his handsome face, tall frame, calm and powerful presence, and his ability to get her. She felt this was exactly the right moment.
“I know a quiet place…”
The two quickly vanished from the watchers’ view. One of the observers sighed, impressed. No wonder she’s royalty—such dedication. All for the glory of Gephra!
In a quiet room, the TV was on, playing a local drama. Jania sat curled up on the sofa, and Lynch was at the other end. On the coffee table sat food, a wine bottle, and glasses.The room was filled with a particular, subtly suggestive atmosphere. The two laughed loudly, talking nonstop—everything seemed interesting now, sparking an endless desire to talk.
The room was hot. With all the talking, drinking, and rising emotions, they both felt the heat intensely.
“Lynch, help me out…” Jania suddenly called.
As a gentleman, Lynch stood up promptly. “What do you need me to do?”
Jania tossed her hair and lowered her head slightly. “It’s too hot, and this corset is too tight. I can barely breathe. Help me undo it.”
Lynch dutifully stepped behind her. She tilted her head forward, revealing the back of her neck. His fingertips touched the hollow at the base of her neck.
That light contact sent a jolt through Jania, like an electric shock. Goosebumps rose briefly on her skin, then quickly faded, replaced by a soft rose-colored flush that slowly spread outward.
His fingers slid down from the nape of her neck, landing on a delicate zipper adorned with a ruby the size of a soybean. He gently pulled it down.
As the zipper slid and the fabric parted, Lynch couldn’t help but admire it.
What a high-quality zipper, he thought.