Exchange meeting
Chen Ran wiped away the white semen with tissue paper, hugged Shen Tinghe, put his hand on her back and gently soothed her, kissed her forehead, and asked her if she wanted to take a bath.
Shen Tinghe buried herself in his arms, panting blankly. Her whole body was soaked, making her feel like a small fish that had just been pulled ashore. She was so tired that she didn't want to take a shower.
She shook her head, not suggesting that he carry her to the bathroom, as that wouldn't be appropriate.
After a while of tenderness, Chen Rancheng got up and went to the bathroom to take a shower. Lying on the bed, he appeared even taller. His genitals were quiet, but only Shen Tinghe knew how ferocious they had just been.
The red marks on his back were clearly visible under the twilight lamplight. Chen Rancheng suddenly turned around, and she hid and buried her head in the pillow.
Hearing the sound of water, Shen Tinghe struggled to her feet, tiptoed, grabbed her underwear, and ran to another room.
The next morning, Shiyu knocked on the door with two sets of clothes. She had received the message the night before and had been asking around before dawn where she could buy suitable women's clothing.
Chen Rancheng ordered breakfast and brought it to the room. Shen Tinghe was sitting on the sofa in a bathrobe, biting into a croissant, his eyes still sleepy. The collar of his bathrobe was quite low, revealing a few red marks. He sat in the chair opposite him, drinking tea. Perhaps the taste wasn't good, because he frowned, put it down, and didn't pick it up again.
Seeing Shen Tinghe's gaze fall on the tea, she said, "Want to try some? But the taste isn't very good."
She shook her head and refused, "No need." Sensing the slightly awkward atmosphere, she turned her head to look out the window. Gray clouds drifted in the sky, and the rain that couldn't fall turned into fog, shrouding the sky and blocking out the sun.
The dress was a long skirt. After changing, Shen Tinghe packed yesterday's clothes into a bag and went out with Chen Rancheng, but refused his offer to take her back.
It's best not to let him interfere too much in your life.
Professor Terence sent her the materials that could prove her identity and instructed her to prepare in advance and find out who would be attending the conference. Terence, nearly seventy years old, saw Shen Tinghe as adorable as her granddaughter. Shen Tinghe was also very grateful to have such a wonderful mentor.
The exchange was held in an auditorium near the embassy, and both the Chinese and French education sectors attached great importance to it.
Shen Tinghe and Alina arrived at the auditorium early to prepare, coordinating and verifying details with the planners. Graduate students are always cheap labor under their teachers.
We determined which door they would enter through, the location of the restrooms, and most importantly, the seating arrangements for the attendees.
As the time approached, the coordinator's voice came through the earpiece, telling Shen Tinghe and Alina to go to the door to greet the delegation.
A black van pulled up at the entrance, and several men and women in suits stepped out. They smiled warmly at Shen Tinghe, then turned to greet the people getting out of the car. It seemed they were of similar status, and Shen Tinghe followed their lead.
The car full of familiar Asian faces made Shen Tinghe, who was far from home, feel especially warm. He introduced himself and led them inside.
The anxious voice of a classmate came through the earpiece, "Tinghe, stall for time, the water cup has been knocked over in the room."
Shen Tinghe frowned, then calmed down and her mind raced. She asked them if they had visited any famous tourist attractions. If not, she could be their guide, which would definitely be just as good as a tour group. She also knew quite a few good restaurants.
The professors in the delegation beamed with joy upon hearing this, saying that they had only arrived yesterday and hadn't had time to go yet. They were just talking about finding a guide when one of the professors interjected, "Didn't Xiao Chen say he would come with us?"
"Who does Xiao Chen think he is? Only you would have the nerve to ask someone to accompany you," another professor snorted.
The sky over Paris was exceptionally clear today, a rare treat of sunshine. The sunlight shone on Chen Tinghe's head, casting halos of light. A pigeon perched on the lawn below, strolling leisurely, completely unafraid of people.
The voice from the students inside came through the headset, and Shen Tinghe led them in through the door.
While the professor was exchanging pleasantries, Shen Tinghe stepped aside to remove her clothes. The collar of her shirt was a little itchy, and she had been holding back from fixing it. When she returned to her seat, she was taken aback when she saw Chen Rancheng sitting opposite her.
He was wearing a black suit, and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched on his straight nose. His hair was neatly combed back, revealing his full forehead.
When the accompanying Chinese education officials took the stage to deliver their speeches, their passionate and eloquent words contrasted sharply with the relatively calm French spoken in the background.
Like having a throat lozenge in his mouth, the muddled voice suddenly became clear and cold.
Chen Rancheng was the head clerk, sitting in the most prominent position. He was gentle and refined, like a moon shrouded in dew.
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Old Chen has mastered the art of creating contrast.
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