8:30.
Shen Qianqian followed Mo Shangjun down the mountain while Duan Zimu stayed on the mountain to clean up the garbage.
The rain was still falling.
Mo Shangjun, holding a flashlight, led the way, with Shen Qianqian following closely behind him, matching his steps.
Shen Qianqian stared intently at Mo Shangjun's silhouette.
The shoulders were slender and fragile, yet the spine was straight and rigid, like a fine but tough gun, just like the 88 sniper rifle she had just handled.
"Hey."
Halfway down the mountain, Shen Qianqian, who had been silent, suddenly called out to Mo Shangjun.
"What is it?"
Mo Shangjun, walking ahead, didn't slow his pace and casually responded.
Shen Qianqian paused, then quickened her pace a bit, took a few steps forward to Mo Shangjun's side.
She tilted her head to look at Mo Shangjun's profile.
