This is a Westerner. Generally, Westerners who have stayed in China for a long time tend to have a special kind of temperament—a gentle demeanor rooted in Eastern culture. Such people always wear a warm smile on their faces, unconsciously radiating peaceful body language. Just by looking at their backs, you can’t tell if they are Chinese or foreigners.

But this person was different. His muscles were taut all over, like a leopard before the hunt, his entire being exuding a sense of alertness. Although he tried hard to disguise his friendliness, everyone who passed by him kept their distance with caution.

From this, it was clear how clumsy his disguise was.

Charles Sutton’s face was pale, his facial muscles twitching, his body convulsing in spasms, as if trapped in a deep nightmare, or perhaps having an epileptic seizure. Sweat poured down like rain, and his gaze darted about restlessly.

At this moment, Yvonne Quinn pushed a food cart into the bedroom. Seeing Charles Sutton like this, she rushed over in a panic, moving so hastily that she accidentally kicked over the cart.

“Wake up, wake up,” Yvonne Quinn frantically shook Charles Sutton, her eyes wildly searching the room.

Ice water, towels...

Charles Sutton’s bedroom was very tidy, with nothing but a bed, a bookshelf, and another neatly arranged bookcase.

“Mm...” Charles Sutton let out a soft moan, his gaze gradually clearing.

“There are two people on the street...” Charles Sutton mumbled.

Yvonne Quinn immediately looked out the window.

Charles Sutton’s words became more fluent: “I know both of those people... but they’re from completely different places, they shouldn’t have met. Now they’re both here, appearing together on the main road outside our house—there can only be one reason: they’re here for me. A-Ying, go greet them.”

Sure enough, those two had come with a purpose. As soon as Yvonne Quinn stepped out the gate, the foreigner immediately turned his gaze to her, his sharp eyes almost scraping a piece of flesh from her face. Yvonne Quinn shrank back, noticing that as soon as she appeared, the other party’s attention was instantly focused on her. Yvonne Quinn almost thought they had met before.

“Do we know each other?” she asked uncertainly.

At this moment, the Chinese hippie turned around, looked at Yvonne Quinn, and shook his head. “No, we haven’t met, I’m sure.”

“Charles Sutton, do you know them?”

“Ha, you’re hiding out here, made me search all over,” the hippie said with delight. The foreigner, meanwhile, kept a sullen face and said nothing.

“He’s waiting for you. Please, come with me.”

Led by Yvonne Quinn, the two entered the small courtyard, climbed the stairs, and arrived at Charles Sutton’s bedroom on the second floor. The thick curtains were already drawn. Fortunately, it was noon, so the room wasn’t dark.

“It’s really you?” The hippie in denim spread his arms and rushed toward Charles Sutton, and the two men hugged each other tightly.

“Mark Shaw, how did you find this place?” Charles Sutton enthusiastically patted Mark Shaw’s shoulder and said warmly, “I owe you a favor. If you’ve come all this way, you must need help. Whatever it is, just say it.”

The two men patted each other on the back. Meanwhile, Mark Shaw’s “muscleman” foreign friend stood by with his arms crossed, watching the reunion with a cold, sharp gaze, saying nothing.

“Come, let me introduce you. This is Hagen, also a close friend of mine. We’ve run into a bit of trouble lately, so we’ve come to you for help. Brother, you won’t let us sleep on the street, will you?”

Hagen extended his hand to Charles Sutton: “Hagen Devans, pleased to meet you.”

This self-introduction left Yvonne Quinn stunned. She distinctly remembered Charles Sutton had said—“He knows both people outside.”

The two pairs of hands clasped together like a long-awaited reunion, holding on for a long time, reluctant to let go. Their expressions were odd; as they shook hands, they both drew sharp breaths, occasionally baring their teeth and showing fierce looks.

“My guitar is still at the hotel,” Mark Shaw said, oblivious to the tension between the two, “We came to find you as soon as we got off the plane... Do you have a spare room here? Or is there a spare room nearby? We need to stay for a while, maybe a long while.”

Mark Shaw’s words interrupted the “handshake” between Charles Sutton and Hagen. After withdrawing his hand, Charles Sutton put both hands behind his back. Yvonne Quinn clearly saw Charles Sutton shaking the hand that had just been gripped.

“Two men, sharing a room? Ha...” Charles Sutton muttered under his breath.

Hagen suddenly raised his eyebrows, and Mark Shaw quickly explained, “Don’t get the wrong idea, we just want to lay low for a while... Maybe I’ll need to find a job. Do you know any nightclub owners? You know, my singing voice is no worse than those third-rate pop stars.”

Since the two entered, Yvonne Quinn had been standing by the door, faintly sensing something off between Hagen and Charles Sutton. Now that there was a pause, she quickly interjected, “We have our own bar... The west wing is still vacant...”

“The backyard is vacant too,” Charles Sutton interrupted her. “Let’s arrange for our two guests to stay in the backyard. Please tell A-Ying which hotel you’re staying at, and she’ll arrange for someone to move your luggage.”

“The backyard?” Yvonne Quinn opened her mouth in surprise, seeking confirmation.

“The backyard!” Charles Sutton replied firmly.