He pressed her lips again.
It doesn't matter if she is desperately faltering, struggling and kicking indiscriminately.
From her lips and teeth to the tip of her tongue, she sucked hard, sucking the last trace of oxygen from her throat, leaving nothing left. The fingers pinched on both sides of her throat seemed to loosen a little, just so that she could desperately draw oxygen, and then be brutally sucked away by him.
This is the gathering area for foreign tourists, and here is Thamel Street.
There are backpackers from countless countries, there are inns everywhere, one is next to the other, there are even people singing loudly in the local language outside the window, there is Indian music, and even she has heard Agassi's laughter from downstairs...
And the roof, the voices coming from the laundry room on the roof.
So close, so clear.
But she couldn't do anything.
In this room, in this man's almost predatory kiss, in a world where oxygen was gradually receding from him, hallucinations even began to appear. Due to the strong hypoxia reaction in the chest, dull pain, suffocation pain.
Tears kept streaming down her face and chin to the backs of his hands.
Warm and sticky.
Cheng Muyun felt that the back of his hand was completely soaked, and suddenly he was a little disappointed: "I don't like to force others, this should be something that makes us all happy."
All the shackled power suddenly disappeared.
He finally let go of her and re-fastened his half-loose belt, but he didn't bother to tuck his shirt into his trousers waist and let it go directly outside, like a man who hastily dressed himself after indulging.
Oxygen, oxygen.
Wen Han only knew how to breathe desperately, but because he was too eager, he leaned against the door and coughed violently. She never knew that being strangled for a long time could be so terrifying. She saw the person in front of her pick up the gorgeous shawl from the ground, and the moment he straightened up, she reached out her hand fiercely, trying to push him away and open the door to escape.
But she seems to be facing a soul, this person has a supernormal reaction speed.
Before her hand could touch him, she was already surrounded and bound by the shawl.
"You're really... special, is it because I was too rough just now?" He was still lazy, pressing her arms against the high door panel, "Or? I'm different from the guests you've seen, Do you want to impress me?"
"You—" Wen Han's wrist felt a burst of pain, but he finally realized why there was such a sudden calamity. The fear in the depths of hell just now was replaced by a sense of humiliation. She was so angry that she couldn't say a complete word, "Let me go! I'm not a prostitute!" Her voice became a little hoarse due to coughing and anger.
She glared at this man with a sacrificial gesture on the cross.
"Shh... don't be angry," he obviously didn't take it seriously, taking her words as another kind of flirtation, "I'm a very generous person, and the price I offer will definitely not disappoint you."
Cheng Muyun lowered his eyes, calmly admiring her front chest, where the front was spread out and undulating with intense breathing.
"Let me go," Wen Han trembled, "let me go out..."
She swears that she must be crazy to think that when she met this man in Tibet, she would think that he had the purest eyes among all the lamas she had ever seen in Tibet.
"Am I going to say 'no'?" He leaned closer to her.
There was no smile in his eyes when he said this.
The eyes are downcast and scrutinized, without the slightest trace of frivolous desire left. She still remembered that he could hold her own strength with two fingers, knowing that as long as he was unhappy, he would really... not to mention he had a gun.
She is about to collapse, those are not human eyes, there is no light there, it is all darkness, like a vortex, as if it can swallow her at any time.
…
There was a knock on the door behind him.
"Excuse me, is there someone here waiting for a beautiful Moscow woman?" The voice was a woman, with a distinct Moscow style.
Wen Han's body froze, and his voice was immediately muffled by him.
He snorted and replied lazily in Russian: "Baby, wait, I have another one here, getting dressed."
Wen Han opened her eyes wide and couldn't move, her body couldn't move under his pressure, she could only look at Cheng Muyun angrily. look! Obviously not me, not me!
As if he understood what she was going to say, Cheng Muyun raised the shawl on the ground with his boots, wrapped Wen Han's shoulders, and said in a barely audible voice, "It's a pity, it's not you."
So, the door was opened.
He didn't give her a chance to cry or get angry at all, exposing all the ambiguity in the open space. Wen Han's mind was completely empty at this moment, all he knew was to clench his shawl tightly, bite his lip, and stare at him fiercely. The young girl outside the door was stunned, pressing her left hand on her French sun hat, and muttering in Russian in a low voice, "God."
Wen Han could clearly hear the ambiguous tone of this young girl.
I finally understood that he wasn't lying, he was really waiting for a Russian-speaking girl... special service. The man behind him put his hand on the door frame and tapped the door lightly with his fingers: "Don't mind my dear, I'm willing to make some compensation."
Wen Han's body was hot for a while, but his hands and feet were cold, and he glared at him fiercely.
He shrugged.
Wen Han's footsteps were empty and he walked towards the stairs.
The girl laughed happily, and then the door behind her was closed.
Hearing that the door was locked, Wen Han ran downstairs to the door of his room, took out the room key tremblingly, and wanted to open the door.
The silver key kept trembling in her hand, and she managed to insert it into the keyhole. She pushed the door in, and then leaned against the door, panting heavily.
Why can I meet this person everywhere.
Even if this matter is really a "misunderstanding", she still has his weird identity in Tibet, and the scene of raising a gun under the Himalayas... Wen Han wanted to take a bath, but when he took off his clothes, there was a feeling Unspeakable humiliation.
She wanted to relieve this unpleasant feeling, but she couldn't hold it back.
always think,
The man, and his actions.
She felt weak in her legs, unable to stand any longer, and wanted to go to the bed and lie down for a while.
How should I tell a few friends of my peers about this, how should I say it? If you let them know, will they go to him to settle the account, but they made it clear that it was a misunderstanding...
Moreover, she was simply incapable of speaking.
Thinking so wildly, the proprietress of this inn suddenly came. After Wen Han opened the door, she realized later that she was still wrapped in the shawl. Under the shawl was naturally the torn shirt. She let the proprietress into the room, and went to the bathroom to change into a cotton short-sleeved T-shirt.
The proprietress is also of Chinese descent. When she booked this hotel online, it was also because of the proprietress' bloodline.
After all, she also has Chinese blood in her bones, and this sense of trust is innate.
The proprietress's long hair was casually tied up with a wooden hairpin, half hanging down behind her head, with a string of sandalwood beads hanging on her wrist, she smiled and said to her in a bit rusty but still standard Chinese: "I have a regular customer, for you. The people in this group bought the whole bill, and you don’t have to pay for the following hotel fees, rafting, and the expedition to Mount Everest.”
Wen Han was stunned for a moment, and immediately guessed who it was.
"He said," the proprietress laughed, "he was fascinated by you, so... he was willing to pay the fee."
"I don't need it," Wen Han couldn't help trembling when he remembered what he had done, especially the way he looked at himself when he choked her, "Is he a regular customer here?"
"Yeah," the proprietress smiled, "I come here often, and the room on the fourth floor has been reserved for him for a long time."
"He used to be… a lama, you know?"
"Yes, he mentioned it." The proprietress didn't care much.
But he still had a gun.
Wen Han didn't say anything, she was still more than surprised, and even more scared when she heard the proprietress say that he was a regular customer. That kind of... the feeling of fear that spread from the bottom of her heart is hard to explain, she has never been so afraid of a person before.
The proprietress said two more words, got up and left, but remembered something in the corridor, turned around and said, "You have two men with you. Seeing that everyone is Chinese, I will quietly ask the doorman to give them two guns for self-defense. You know. , Now there are still many rebels here, it's not peaceful, and gun control is poor, just in case."
She was startled.
The figure in front of him has entered the turning stairs, and only the light footsteps of stepping on the wooden stairs can be heard.
Wen Han returned to the room, recalled the words of the proprietress, and then remembered a series of impressions of this person, and began to have uncertainty. Is this person really just an ordinary monk, nothing weird? Listening to the boss's words, the firearms management here is so loose, most of them are self-defense, and there is no fuss.
But…
Wen Han was still worried. He ate dinner in Agassi's room, made an excuse to call her, and accompanies him to the first floor, where there are two computers with Internet access, which are very good equipment in this city. The remaining two men also went downstairs, saying that they were going to visit the scenery of Thamel. Because there are no lights here after nine o'clock, it is not suitable for girls to walk around, and it is safe to keep them online.
When the four of them went downstairs, the little Indian doorman was dozing off when he heard footsteps and woke up to look at them.
Wen Han pointed to the computer. Suddenly, the little boy led the two young ladies to the so-called "Internet Cafe" with only two computers, turned them on and entered their passwords.
"Are you in a hurry to receive emails?" Agassi didn't rely so much on the Internet. He was bored and typed on the keyboard.
Wen Han went to the open forum and found the introduction of this inn.
Without exception, they all praised the proprietress for her caring, because the proprietress likes to leave the word "Hu" when communicating with guests about booking information, and is often nicknamed "little fox". "Chinese people who go to Nepal are looking for the little fox's inn, which is absolutely cheap and safe." "The Nepalese milk tea in the little fox shop is really delicious." "I really want to go again. I met a Russian-speaking man, very humorous and likable, and I heard that he used to be a monk..."
Wen Han's eyes stopped here.
Look at the date, it was three months ago.
Is he really an old guest who never shy away from talking about his past
Conjectures, doubts, all bad thoughts are smashed by facts one by one. She couldn't even find any doubts to question him, and went to tell her companions that she once thought he was a very strange and dangerous person.
The door of the inn behind him slammed, causing the crisp sound of the copper bell.
Taking the opportunity to jump in from the door, the wind blew the incense lit on the first floor. She chose here because the proprietress here is a devout Buddhist. Including the layout and decoration of the entire inn, people deeply appreciate the belief of the owner here.
While Wen Han was still staring at the screen, an arm suddenly appeared beside her, supporting her: "It seems that you have some curiosity about me, should I be happy about it?"
He came back from a night in Kathmandu, Nepal, with the unique smell of the city all over him.
Mysterious, rough, and dusty.