Morning.
Inside the hotel suite, tranquility and peace.
Sunlight filters through thin sheer curtains, casting gentle light.
A few pieces of exquisite lace lingerie scattered on the smooth floor, torn stockings seem to be recounting the tales of yesterday.
Zhang Ling, with slightly tousled long hair, leans against the headboard, quietly watching Li Jing sleeping beside her.
Although last night's story ended, looking at the young and wealthy man before her, she couldn't help but feel a desire to continue the story.
However, even at the most intense moments last night, her several attempts were rejected by him, making her realize she could never truly have this man.
Previously, she could predict Li Jing's likelihood of buying a house from her at fifty percent through observation. But now, she predicts the chance of becoming Li Jing's woman is less than one percent.
Thinking of this, Zhang Ling took a deep breath, dispelling those unrealistic thoughts from her mind.
