Every night before sleep, she would send him a message to say goodnight.
Sometimes Mo Shiqian replied, and sometimes he didn't.
Of course, most of the time, he did.
On the seventeenth day of his trip to Mexico, at eleven o'clock at night, she routinely sent him a message.
[I'm going to sleep now, goodnight. Be careful and take care of yourself.]
After the message showed as sent, she held her phone and waited for about five minutes, but still no reply came. She felt a bit disheartened, yet she set down her phone and prepared to go to sleep.
Less than two minutes after she turned off the light, her phone dinged with a notification.
She immediately picked up her phone to check, and indeed a message had come through, but—
It wasn't from Mo Shiqian.
What she received was a photo.
Chi Huan abruptly sat up, her fingers trembling as she opened and enlarged the photo.
She bit her lip, her breathing was chaotic, rapid, and unsteady; her pupils were dilating.
There were four photos.
