When the night fell, Wen Leyang was standing before a square shaped, giant matchbox-like steel grey-colored building.
On the street, every building appeared distinctive from the rest. Some had clearly-defined edges and corners with a towering and arrogant mannerism; some were in bright colors penetrating with joy; some had mottled colors as if a storm had just passed, trying to stand tall and upright desperately…the matchbox stood straight and narrow in between those buildings, appearing slightly hideous and clumsy in comparison to the rest.
Other than the matchbox, every single building displayed its signboard that Wen Leyang could not read. Rows upon rows of words and numbers formed into a different taste from the antique style of the City God Temple of Shanghai.
The street was slightly desolated, with only a few occasional passersby. They were discussing to one another softly of the peculiar event that took place in the City God Temple earlier.
