Leng Chenxuan swiftly parked the car in the garage and strode straight up to the second floor, his large palm twisting the doorknob of his own room open.
The curtains fluttered, the room was pitch black, and there was no sign of the petite woman, but a faint, alluring fragrance invaded his nostrils.
She really did live here, but where was she now?
"Where is Yin Qianxue?" he asked, grabbing a passing maid in haste.
"The young mistress might be with Mrs. Xianglan."
"The young mistress?" he murmured and then let go of the maid and walked toward the third floor where Lin Xianglan and her son resided. Before he reached the door, he heard Leng Yuntuo's voice inside: "This kind of tree is harder than steel, and bullets that hit it are like hitting a thick steel plate, not moving an inch. Look, this is the bark I cut from its trunk this morning... I didn't expect the Leng Residence to have planted one, probably for ornamental use..."
