"Hmm..." Holding the warm-bodied Qi Ya in his arms, Jiang Hai basked in the morning sunlight but was reluctant to open his eyes.
Although Jiang Hai generally treated all his women equally, he did have his own preferences—especially when it came to sleeping habits.
For instance, he liked to sleep on his side, probably because it made him feel more secure. He used to sleep with a pillow or blanket tucked between his legs, but now, it was usually one of the girls.
Among all of them, the two he preferred to cuddle the most were Qi Ya and Ai Xiaoxi.
Qi Ya had always been like a snow elf—pale, delicate, and unable to bask in sunlight since childhood. The lack of sun had led to mild calcium deficiency, which left her body unusually soft. Though Jiang Hai's spiritual energy had long since healed her condition, that innate softness remained.
Cuddling her felt like hugging a warm, fragrant bundle of cotton. Even during their more intimate moments, Jiang Hai often didn't want to part from her. Qi Ya enjoyed this closeness too—nestling into his arms gave her a deep sense of comfort.
Ai Xiaoxi, on the other hand, had a naturally cold constitution. As a child, even a mild fever would become serious. Although Jiang Hai's spiritual energy had corrected this, her body still felt cool year-round, making her perfect to hold during hot nights or summer naps.
Both girls loved snuggling up to Jiang Hai just as much as he loved holding them—it gave them a sense of warmth, safety, and... convenience.
As for what kind of convenience—well, no need to elaborate. The editor might come knocking if we say too much.
"Bang, bang, bang…" Just as Jiang Hai was dozing off again, a knock came at the door.
Jiang Hai didn't stir, but Hilda—sleeping on the outermost side—woke up. The women around Jiang Hai considered themselves his maids. In addition to tending to his nightly "needs," they were responsible for small errands and chores. Hearing the knock, Hilda stretched, wrapped herself in a towel, and padded over to the suite door.
Peeking through the peephole, she saw Afra and Feng Yunchen outside. She opened the door without hesitation.
"He's still not up?" Feng Yunchen blinked at the sight of Hilda, still nearly naked, and sighed in exasperation.
Hilda simply pointed inside and shrugged. Feng Yunchen and Afra stepped in and walked toward Jiang Hai's bedroom.
When Feng Yunchen saw the tangle of limbs sprawled across the bed, she was momentarily speechless. Four people lay there in a mess.
Perhaps sensing the change in atmosphere, Qi Jie—who had been sleeping behind Jiang Hai—and Becky—beside Qi Ya—both woke up. They looked at Feng Yunchen in confusion.
"Hey, wake up. Uncle Dulles has finished setting things up already," Feng Yunchen said, lightly patting Jiang Hai's leg.
Jiang Hai wasn't fully asleep—he had already heard them come in and even heard what she said. He just didn't want to move.
But at her words, he sighed and reluctantly sat up, gently releasing Qi Ya from his arms.
Feeling the shift, Qi Ya also stirred and rubbed her eyes.
With everyone awake, Feng Yunchen reminded them again that Dulles Gerald was waiting downstairs, urging them to hurry. The group got out of bed, quickly washed up, skipped breakfast, and rushed down. Business came first.
Downstairs, Dulles Gerald, O'Connor Murphy, and the others had been waiting patiently.
Once Jiang Hai and the group arrived, they all boarded the bus and headed to the venue for the Mâcon Wine Festival.
On the way, they noticed the streets of Mâcon were far more crowded than the day before.
Mâcon, known for its rich tourism appeal—charming plazas, historical sites, cultural landmarks, gourmet food, and vineyards—attracts countless visitors, especially in April, when wine lovers from around the world gather here.
Like the Paris Agricultural Competition, the Mâcon Wine Competition was a prestigious event in France with a long-standing history and sterling reputation.
First held in 1925, the wine competition originally debuted at a regional agricultural fair known as ité des foires. Over time, as wine grew to dominate the fair, the event was renamed Mâcon Expo and later French Wine Expo in 1948.
Eventually, in 2006, the wine competition officially broke off from the expo to become its own independent event—focusing even more on regional identity and blind voting, which became a hallmark of the competition.
Blind tasting allowed for a more objective assessment, especially important in France, where national pride often influenced judgment. If French judges knew which wines were domestic and which were foreign, the scores would naturally lean toward the homegrown.
That's why blind judging became essential—and why international participants were willing to come. In the world of wine, France was king, and anyone who could make a name for themselves here would earn instant credibility.
Each year, a staggering number of wineries submitted entries. Around 20–30% would win awards, but apart from the gold medal, the rest were mostly consolation prizes. Dulles Gerald was here for the gold—nothing less would do.
When the bus arrived at the venue, Jiang Hai and the team unloaded their wine. The organizers promptly received the entries, chilled them, and wrapped each bottle to mask its appearance—ensuring that every label, shape, or branding cue was hidden before judging.
Once everything was prepared, the organizers would bring out the wines for tasting.
With the wine in place, some of the girls got restless. They weren't here just to work—they also wanted to enjoy themselves.
So Jiang Hai sent Azarina and Connorson Peters along with them for security and gave them permission to explore. Besides, they could still participate in the voting process. Though a dozen votes might not sway the overall results, every vote counted.
Jiang Hai himself remained with Dulles Gerald and O'Connor Murphy at the organizer's lounge. After a while, the competition began.
Groups of attendees filtered in, moving from table to table, tasting and rating the wines.
At first, Jiang Hai was mildly interested, but his curiosity quickly faded. Before long, he was more focused on the growing hunger in his belly. After all, he hadn't had much to eat yesterday—nothing decent on the plane, and no time for a proper meal after arriving.
Now, having skipped breakfast too, the hunger finally hit.
Telling Dulles Gerald he was stepping out, Jiang Hai wandered beyond the competition venue, toward the nearby food stalls. Where there were people, there was business—and where there was wine tasting early in the day, people would be desperate for snacks.
The organizers didn't provide food, so local vendors jumped at the opportunity, setting up rows of snack stalls just outside. This was Jiang Hai's destination.
As he walked among the stalls, his mouth began to water.
In the world of Western cuisine, French and Italian food were undoubtedly at the top. German food was meat, meat, and more meat. Russian cuisine leaned heavily on fish. British food... well, boiled potatoes, potatoes, and more potatoes. But French and Italian? They knew how to eat.
Most of the stalls were selling French street food, with some Italian snacks mixed in.
The most common item was the crepe—a French staple available in sweet and savory versions. Traditional creperies served savory crepes as the main dish, sweet crepes as dessert, and cider as the go-to drink.
These crepes were like flatbread wraps—thin flour pancakes filled with a variety of ingredients: eggs, ham, cheese, mushrooms, tomatoes, salmon, beef—you name it. Prices varied depending on the filling. Basic ones cost 1–2 euros, fancier ones might go up to 3. Brittany-style crepes were even pricier, sometimes reaching 10 euros (about 70 RMB).
There were also macarons, though Jiang Hai wasn't a fan.
Italian paninis were another popular snack—essentially grilled sandwiches with a variety of fillings. They were simple but satisfying.
The prices were fair. Most items were 1–3 euros, which was reasonable. But there were also luxury items like foie gras rolls and snails, which the French seemed to adore. Jiang Hai, however, didn't care for snails—he much preferred bamboo clams.
Eventually, he picked up two crepes and a panini, then returned to the venue and found a quiet corner to eat in peace.
He devoured the food quickly, not noticing the three figures entering the venue behind him.
It was one man and two women, the women arm in arm, chatting and laughing, and the man trailing behind like a proper gentleman. Oddly, all three wore dark sunglasses despite the indoor setting. A few others in the crowd subtly flanked them, forming a loose perimeter around the trio.
As they entered, one of the women casually glanced around—then froze.
She had spotted Jiang Hai sitting in a corner, eating enthusiastically.
Pulling off her sunglasses for a better look, her expression turned to surprise and confusion.
"Why is that guy here?" she muttered, staring at Jiang Hai with a puzzled expression.
(To be continued.)