902 A melody of Chu Renmei, where in the world to find a soulmate

Knocking on the door definitely didn't seem appropriate.

After all, Hang Seng was simply expressing gratitude for having his life saved.

It was just like watching a cultural performance.

Thinking so, Jiang Chen gradually steadied himself, turned around, and began to survey the room.

Calling it a "room" was actually inaccurate.

The area was far larger—at least two to three hundred square meters—spacious enough, with a small stage directly ahead. The dance troupe likely performed here frequently, but the stage was currently obscured by a semi-transparent curtain. The curtain was a deep red color, making the stage behind it hazy and indistinct.

Facing the stage were several luxurious leather sofa chairs. Each chair had a small round table beside it, yet not even a glass of water adorned the tables, let alone snacks or seeds.

So much for being prepared.

This was shockingly careless.

Was this really how the Hang Seng Dance Troupe hosted their guests?

Reputation precedes reality.