Two o'clock in the morning.
Bian Xunzhou drove his black Mercedes, circling the empty streets over and over, as if tireless. The window was cracked open, letting in a biting wind, but it could not disperse the burning, suffocating pressure in his chest.
His pale, slender fingers held a cigarette. The scarlet ember flickered under the control of the wind as he took a sharp drag. Through the swirling smoke, his expression was indiscernible.
Chapter 100