They surrounded me right after the breakup.

Inside the lobby, the appearance of two top models instantly attracted the attention of the guests.

Two identical Scandinavian models stand beside an Asian face.

This is already an uncommon combination.

They are all over 1.78 meters tall.

The proportions, hair color, and skin texture are all on a different layer than those of the other passersby.

Judging from the looks of it, she's a man's nighttime companion.

What else is there to say?

I'm just so envious!

Jiang Han had no time to care about the reactions of outsiders.

Turning her head to look at the rest area, she saw Song Wanning lounging on the sofa.

He rested his right arm on the handrail, supporting his chin.

His head drooped, and his eyes were tightly closed.

His body was slightly curled up, and his breathing was steady.

It looks like she's asleep.

Jiang Han breathed a long sigh of relief.

He was having so much fun backstage at Fashion Week that he almost forgot everything that had happened before.

Xiao Xiao hurriedly followed him from China.

Even though Song Wanning had already picked up the person, she lingered in the lobby and refused to leave.

In addition, there were twins beside her.

Jiang Han has found himself in a situation where he is attacked from all sides.

Claudia noticed that he had stopped and was looking at the sofa.

Did you run into someone you know?

"I guess so, just a moment."

Jiang Han waved to Mathieu, and the butler quickly approached.

"Mr. Jiang, please give your instructions."

"Book me a suite."

"Then get a blanket and cover the lady on the sofa with it, and then book her a private room."

"Give her the room key when she wakes up."

As the saying goes, a cunning rabbit has three burrows, and Jiang Han is not prepared to show off his skills in the previous presidential suite.

If Wang Jing rushes back at night and puts too much pressure on his older brother, I'm afraid he won't be able to handle it.

Mathieu nodded slowly, without asking a single further question.

The Ritz's butlers are not talkative, which is a tradition of old-fashioned European hotels.

Whether the guest brings 2 people back to the room or 4 people back to the room, it's fine.

They only cared about opening the door, making the bed, and delivering breakfast; they didn't ask about anything else.

After Jiang Han finished explaining, he turned back to the twins.

Both hands simultaneously climbed onto the waists of the two people, with palms pressed against the narrowest curve of their waistlines.

I could feel the temperature of her skin through the skirt.

Europe's large frame was even more robust than he had anticipated.

The twisting motion was extremely exaggerated.

The twins, understanding the situation, snuggled closer to Jiang Han's arms, their movements perfectly synchronized.

They've lived together for over 20 years since childhood, and even their reactions to being hugged by a man are synchronized.

Just as the three people stepped into the elevator and disappeared into the lobby.

The waitress carried the folded blanket to the sofa and gently unfolded it.

The blanket had just landed on Song Wanning's shoulders.

She suddenly opened her eyes.

That's right, Song Wanning was pretending to be asleep.

She saw Jiang Han the moment he walked in.

I also saw a dazzling woman beside him.

She really wanted to stand up, walk over, and confront them.

They asked him why he brought a woman back again.

But Song Wanning ultimately did nothing.

What makes her think she can compete for it?

Is there any difference between someone coming to Paris to bring a girl to spend the night and sleeping with her?

They were all just sleeping with women.

In terms of status, I am no different from a female model.

These are all playmates I can't bring home.

Song Wanning pulled the blanket down a little.

The blanket is made of cashmere; it's very soft and warm.

Perhaps this was the only bit of tenderness Jiang Han could show himself.

Song Wanning stood up; her legs were a little numb from holding the position for too long.

After holding onto the sofa armrest for a while, I dejectedly prepared to leave.

At that moment, the butler came forward.

"Madam, Mr. Jiang has arranged a room for you."

Please come with me.

Song Wanning stood there, stunned for a while before she came to her senses.

Her immediate thought was that Jiang Han and two beautiful models were also inside.

Sending myself there was meant to intensify the already complex battle.

Song Wanning was no longer able to stay angry.

She clenched her fists angrily and ordered the butler to lead the way.

Go ahead and go, who's afraid of who?

Enter the elevator.

Song Wanning's face was reflected in the elevator mirror.

My hair was a mess from being rubbed against the sofa cushions, and my lips were dry and chapped.

He looked like he had just gotten off a long-haul flight.

No, it's worse than that.

The door was pushed open, and the room was empty.

There was no erotic scene as I had imagined.

It wasn't the room Jiang Han stayed in.

All those random thoughts I had in the elevator were just wishful thinking.

"Which room is Mr. Jiang staying in tonight?"

The housekeeper hesitated for a moment before giving the room number.

Song Wanning nodded.

The door was closed, and the room was quiet.

There was only a slight humming sound from the air conditioner vents.

Song Wanning sat on the sofa, not having time to appreciate the luxurious decorations in the room.

Exhausted, aggrieved, and resentful.

She sat in the room for a long time without even turning on the lights.

The clock struck 12.

The Parisian night grew ever deeper outside the window.

In the distance, the lights of the Eiffel Tower have been turned off.

After holding the same position for two hours, Song Wanning finally moved.

She was barefoot on the carpet, holding her high heels in her hands.

Open the door.

The corridor was carpeted in dark gray, and the wall lights cast a soft glow.

Like a cat searching for food at midnight, Song Wanning followed the butler's instructions and gave him the room number.

They approached slowly and unsteadily.

She even imitated the catwalk she remembered and walked like a cat on a runway in the corridor.

Left foot, right foot, pause...

"Model walk?"

"Hehe~ I can walk too!"

We finally arrived at the door.

The double solid wood door is dark walnut in color, with a faint light shining through the gaps.

There's sound coming from inside!

The door panels are thick, but when you put your ear to them, the soundproofing of the presidential suite doesn't seem as good as you'd imagined.

Or rather, the people inside had no intention of keeping their voices down.

The English was unclear.

And Jiang Han shouting in his hometown dialect.

That tone of voice… Song Wanning was all too familiar with it.

She had experienced the same treatment.

Song Wanning stood still.

His face was expressionless, and his feet were as heavy as lead, unable to move.

His left hand was still in the position of pressing the doorbell, hanging in mid-air.

The sounds inside the room were continuous.

A burst of laughter, followed by a string of rapid English words beginning with the letter F.

His tone was indescribably excited.

Song Wanning's fingers slowly clenched.

I secretly cursed those foreigners for being so uninhibited.

A floor attendant who was passing by saw her standing at the door and stopped in her tracks.

A French girl in a black uniform and white apron, with a standard smile on her face.

"Ma'am, how can I help you? Did you forget your room key?"

Song Wanning turned her head away, her face expressionless: "No need, I'm waiting for someone."

The waiter nodded and turned to leave.

The elevator's arrival announcement came from the end of the corridor.

Song Wanning faced the door again and brought her knife down with a swift motion.

They launched a fierce attack on the wooden door.

"Clap clap clap! Clap clap clap! Thump thump thump! Thump thump thump!"

The waiter had just turned the corner of the corridor when he was startled by the noise and stopped in his tracks.

……