The double-decker bus was eerily quiet as the glare of the street lamps shone through the windows, illuminating Qian Wu's face.
The sound of the brakes and the tires rubbing against the ground was particularly harsh in the dead of night.
"Old man, it's so late, are you working the night shift?"
The driver, seeing he was the only one on board, casually asked.
Mr. Wu didn't say anything, just smiled kindly at him, and then got off the bus all alone.
As the bus departed again, only Mr. Wu was left standing under the bus stop sign. Before him stood a circular warehouse with two rows of roller doors in front and behind, and seven black dragon columns standing in the middle. Without realizing it, he furrowed his brow. Whether intentionally or not, this architecture was very much in line with the Feng Shui concept of "Seven Stars Anchoring the Soul," an undeniable method of suppressing corpses.
