A thick fog surrounded the room. Heavy eyes failed to open, but the body stumbled across the room. Weisheng could tell he was drunk. His fading consciousness prevented him from understanding what was going on. He could feel his body hitting the walls of the hallway. His footsteps were heavy but created little to no sound.
His body dragged him to an unknown room. He knew he had never seen this room before. The bed in the room had curtains over it. Someone was asleep behind those curtains. The room had dim lights and a strong scent of tobacco and oil paints.
Weisheng walked to the nightstand and held onto the glass of water. He pushed his hand into his pocket and pulled a folded paper. He unfolded the paper and slipped the powder inside into the glass. He dropped the used paper on the ground and turned around to leave.
