In the morning, Bruce took a set of newly purchased women's casual clothes and delivered them to Martin's suite. Just as he was about to knock on the door, the room door across from him suddenly opened.
Mene stepped out, bursting with vigour on his nearly washed-out face, looking like a handsome young man of just twenty years old.
Bruce wondered, "When did this guy get back?"
Mene just chuckled but didn't speak.
Because from inside the room came the pleasant voice of a woman: "Wait for me, let's have breakfast together, and we'll come back after. How did you train your tongue? It's so flexible; you can even tie knots in hair. I've been through a lot, but this is the first I've seen."
Bruce looked at Mene in shock. He had already trained to this extent? Wasn't that a bit exaggerated?
A middle-aged woman in her forties came out of the room.
Anyone familiar with European films could recognize her at a glance—Sophie Marceau!
Bruce silently gave Mene a thumbs up.
