An urban village in Haiqing City. Even Haiqing City, which is prosperous and full of high-rise buildings, has never lacked such slums where the poor gather together. Here, the roads are narrow and the houses are dilapidated everywhere.
Along the dark and narrow alley, the shabby van drove into and stopped slowly in front of a run down small house with a courtyard.
A man opened the van door and came down from it. He looked about thirty-seven or thirty-eight years old, unshaven, wearing a washed and bleached shirt and trousers. Judging from the sign posted on the car, he is a taxi driver.
Zhao Yang took out a cigarette, lit it, and let out a breath, feeling a bit comfortable.
"Hmm~" Humming softly a song, he opened the door and walked inside the house.
'Luo Xian should have already cooked the meal.'
