Two days later, Saturday.
At five in the morning, in the dimly lit bedroom, the alarm clock sounded urgently.
Li Qiao reached out her slender, fair arm to turn off the alarm and immediately opened her reddened eyes.
Outside the window, the sound of rain rustled, with the foggy sky shrouding the city in dampness.
At five twenty, Li Qiao, dressed neatly, took advantage of the fact that her family had not yet risen, and stepped into the rain with her umbrella.
At that moment, on Huanan Road at the second red traffic light, an old Santana had been waiting at the muddy street corner.
Less than ten minutes later, Li Qiao's figure appeared in the rearview mirror.
She approached in her austere black attire, holding an umbrella, opened the passenger door, folded her umbrella, bent down to get into the car, and nodded towards Mo Qi.
