Zhang Yang put on his clothes and strolled downstairs, heading straight toward the parking spot.
From Zhang Yang's angle, he could only see half of Han Mocheng's face with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. This guy was looking down, not fiddling with his phone, lost in his thoughts.
"Hey! What are you doing, following us to the hotel in the middle of the night instead of resting?"
Zhang Yang, like a ghost, silently walked over to the spot beside the driver's seat and suddenly greeted.
"Whoa! You almost scared me to death!"
That unexpected greeting almost sent Han Mocheng flying. The cigarette hanging from his mouth fell onto his chest, and he awkwardly brushed it off.
"What's up? Is there something going on?" Zhang Yang glanced at Han Mocheng, trying to read something from his eyes.
