In the hotel.
In a large private room that could seat twenty to thirty people, there were only five: Yang Jian, Zhang Wei, Zhao Lei, and Wang Shanshan.
Despite the table being full of expensive dishes, the atmosphere was exceptionally bleak, even the servers felt it odd.
"Do so few people really need such a large table for a meal? With so many dishes, we can't finish them all, it's quite wasteful," said Yang Jian.
Zhang Wei sighed, "From a class of over forty people, together for three years, to only seven left in a blink of an eye. And damn it, even among those seven, two didn't show up, and one is late. I'm feeling sorrowful inside, and recently I've been very anxious, as if I'm going to drop dead at any moment."
"Yang Jian, you don't think I'll suddenly kick the bucket one day, do you?"
"It's all about luck, if we don't bump into a ghost, everything else is fine."
