WHOOSH...
RUSTLE RUSTLE RUSTLE...
The night was deep and silent. The surroundings were quiet, with only the faint rustle of flowers, grass, and trees as the wind blew.
On the eastern outskirts of the city, at a construction site that had been abandoned for a long time, a faint light suddenly flickered on the third floor of an unfinished building.
On the dimly lit floor, Zhang Yuxi—a woman with long, flowing hair, willow-leaf eyebrows, a melon-seed-shaped face, and dressed in a black pantsuit—lay on the ground, her hands and feet bound and her mouth gagged.
Her hair was a mess and her expression was haggard as she stared at a group of men in the distance, her gaze landing on a familiar face among them.
A burly, tattooed man with a barrel chest and a menacing expression sat on a plastic chair. He looked at Zhang Yuxi, who was bound, gagged, and unable to speak on the floor, and chuckled as he spoke to the scruffy, middle-aged man beside him.
