Huang Xiaolong, burning with a heart full of ardor, walked into the hotel with his wife, Song Yuru.
The front desk was manned by a middle-aged man with lewd features, engrossed in his phone, watching something. Faintly, phrases not of their own language could be heard, "Yametode," "Comor," "Ikuyo"...
"Renting a room?" Huang Xiaolong stammered as he and the bashful Song Yuru entered. The sleazy man looked up, and in an instant, he was dazzled by the sight of Song Yuru!
Beautiful!
Busty!
Long legs!
Slim waist!
An innocent allure, spiced with a puff of shyness!
A stunner!
Absolute stunner!
'Holy moly! A college girl from the neighboring university, eh? She could even be the university flower! These types of girls should be taken to presidential suites in five-star hotels. What on earth is she doing here in my shabby hotel that only costs 50 yuan for a night?' he thought.
