Northeast of Karamay City, following National Highway 217 northward for 170 kilometers, there are no officially recognized villages or towns marked on the map in this area—just a small market that some people have put together, barely even the size of the average vegetable market back in the heartland.
The market is enclosed with wooden fencing, and at its entrance, there's a sign that almost seems weathered away: City that Never Sleeps.
Ren He pulled over his SUV at the entrance and just standing there for less than a minute, he already felt the sand creeping into his hair. He removed his transparent wind goggles, looked at the words "City that Never Sleeps," and then glanced at the six or seven earthen houses that you could see from end to end with a sudden pang of... annoyance.
Just at the entrance, he could see a sign hanging at the door of one of the adobe houses within the fence: Massage.
