A trace of excitement unexpectedly appeared on his face.
He even dabbed a bit of saliva and slicked his hair, attempting some kind of hairstyle.
Then, rubbing his hands together like a fly, he jogged to the door, muttering:
"My dear receptionist sister~"
The door opened.
A thick cloud of smoke blew straight into his face.
"Cough cough cough—"
"Cough cough cough—"
He coughed violently from the irritants.
Then he heard a very mature voice saying:
"You're the one who made the call, right?"
"Alright, let's get this over with. Do you want a bath before or after?"
The smoke cleared, and the man took deep breaths of fresh air.
Then, he saw an older woman with a mole on the corner of her mouth and obvious crow's feet, looking at least over fifty.
She wore a tight pencil skirt and fishnet stockings standing at the door.
Just those strong legs of hers seemed thicker than his.
And most impressively, she had a Ta Shan cigarette dangling from her mouth, confident and unyielding.
