Yang Fan was half-lying on the sofa: "What's the matter? Disappointed?"
"No, make yourself at home. Just sleep on the sofa. There's everything in the fridge, help yourself. I'm going to bed, I have work tomorrow." Yang Huiru got up, walked into the bedroom, and closed the door.
Yang Fan took a bottle of drink from the fridge, gulped down a sip, and laid on the sofa squinting his eyes.
Time passed, and Yang Fan felt a strange commotion. He got up from the sofa, ran to the window, and looked around, but found nothing.
He then ran to the door, pressed his ear against it, indeed heard footsteps, and abruptly opened the door; still, he found nothing.
Yang Fan was sure that there had been someone. Since today all the terrorists were wiped out, retaliation was inevitable, and Yang Huiru was also a target. It seemed that this place was no longer safe.
Turning back, just as he was about to lie down, a sharp scream came from Yang Huiru's bedroom.
