The late autumn wind was both cold and refreshing, making it difficult to describe the feeling it brought as it brushed against one's skin.
Waiting is always hard to endure, and Lei Tong and Hua Biao were sitting on the massive open-air balcony at the top of the villa, having a laid-back conversation.
From time to time, they would stand up and look westward through binoculars, not only to keep watch but more importantly, to wait for their returning companions.
A coal-black dog drooped its eyelids listlessly and lay curled on the pile of dead grass in the yard.
Beside it, Fangfang was carefully combing its fur, not letting the dog's lack of enthusiasm dampen her spirits.
He Jing, with the rare assistance of Zhang Zhicai, had managed to step out of the house and was now sitting in a wicker chair in the yard, though her eyes remained hollow and absent, showing no sign of change.
Yue Guishan strolled around He Jing, a task entrusted to him by Zhang Zhicai.
