In the cloakroom, the air was filled with the smell of medicinal herbs and vague devastation. In the dim yellow light, there was a mist of decadence, forming an ambiguous air of lust.
In the ruins, there was a man and a woman on the ground, dubiously entangled.
Xu Zhenyu's eyes blurred in a second. In his blurred vision, only two outlines were moving. It was as though he was submerged in ice, the cold biting into his bones. It felt as though his whole being, his whole world, had been frozen.
His heart tightened. That scene from his nightmare rushed into his head, and he was unable to push it back down. The bone-chilling pain gripped at his heart, making him ball his fists tight and grit his teeth.
"Ah…" The sharp sounds reverberated around the room.
Two girls fled from the mess they saw in the room.
A few young men were shocked; they had not expected this scene to unfold within the cloakroom. Someone even bled from their nose.
