...
The man who had warned Zheng Bolan hung up and casually tossed his phone aside, letting it bounce a few times on the worn, mottled table before he stood up.
The rental unit he was in was small and cramped, the light dim and gloomy, like a forgotten corner of the world.
The water stains on the walls resembled hideous, grinning faces and gave off a damp, musty smell.
A subtle tension showed in his eyes as he began to meticulously inspect the cramped space.
First, he strode over to the window.
He forcefully shut the rickety window with both hands, then carefully checked if the lock was securely fastened,
as if countless spying eyes were hidden outside.
Next, he turned and went to the door, giving it a hard shove to make sure it was sealed tight.
Then he picked up a dirty burlap sack from the corner
and carefully scattered the already-dried peanut shells from inside onto the floor.
His movements were as gentle as if he were setting up an intricate trap.
