After pushing open the door, a wave of stuffy warmth hit them, which was much stronger than the dry cold outside, but the faint odd smell also made the students accompanying him cover their mouths and noses involuntarily.
Yalian entered, scanned the area, and found that there were quite a few people inside the supply station: at least ten in the hall alone, including two clerks, while the other eight appeared travel-worn, some dressed in greasy, worn work clothes, others wrapped in shiny jackets. The old equipment by the bar played slightly husky music, rhythmic, and a 3D projection beside it displayed a film from over twenty years ago that had been un-banned.
Stepping on the slightly echoing metal floor, Yalian assessed his surroundings as he headed to the front desk.
