Leng Youchen lowered his head and stared at the paper slip in his hand, feeling as though it weighed a thousand pounds. After a long while, he clenched his fist tightly and strode out of the hotel. The doorman drove his car over, and he bent down to get in.
His fist unclenched, and he glanced at the room number on the slip of paper. He stepped on the gas and drove away.
Wei Anning remained in a deep sleep, her consciousness floating aimlessly. She felt as if she were enveloped in a thick, white fog, unable to see anything ahead. Childlike voices echoed in her ears, faintly guiding her.
She followed the voices, running forward. The fog began to disperse, revealing a forest ahead. Within the woods stood a small wooden cabin, and the voice of a little girl emanated from it.
