There was nothing in this world that belonged to them, and what could belong to them was actually just this string of numbers.
Sun Yuhan walked out of the factory. She was wearing prisoner clothes that had been washed to the point that they were colorless, but she was still wearing them. Other than the gray color on her body, there was also her almost colorless face, she also wore the same pair of pants that had lost their color.
Six years had passed. She was much older. She lived here every day, doing repetitive work. She was also used to the same life and wore the same clothes, she saw the same faces.
