"But why has Qianmo been here before?" wondered Yan Qingruo, feeling an inexplicable doubt in her heart.
Originally, during this visit, many of Chen Qianmo's behaviors and habits seemed very strange in Yan Qingruo's eyes because he was too familiar with this place.
For everything he did, there was a sense of particular familiarity, not at all like someone visiting for the first time as a tourist.
Instead, it was as convenient and comfortable as if he were strolling under his own building.
Even in this vast presidential suite, there were traces of him everywhere.
The hotel manager also regretted his indiscretion, feeling that he had touched upon some remarkable secret but, not knowing what it exactly was, found no better way to remedy it and was momentarily frozen in place.
"Ruoruo." Chen Qianmo's figure had already appeared by Yan Qingruo's side. He had just come over from the balcony and heard the conversation between the hotel manager and Yan Qingruo.