Two and a half years later.
Danyan.
Quiet Sea City, a container wharf.
The crane arm slowly descended, the container clattered to the ground with a crash, letting out a scream.
Flames cut through the metal, creating a narrow slit in the container.
It was like a doghole, just big enough for an adult to get through.
The next moment, a panic-stricken middle-aged man crawled out, his hands and face full of bruises.
He looked up at the night sky, gasping for breath.
Until a group of people walked in.
He saw a familiar figure.
Her ice-blue hair seemed like a non-mainstream style, but at that moment, it brought him endless nightmares.
"Why?!"
The middle-aged man's eyes reddened, tears streaming, like a stray dog struck by a truck on the roadside, howling helplessly.
"I've already fled overseas, why can't you let me go, my son, my wife are dead, isn't that enough?"
