After saying goodbye to Xu Rongfei, Ning Fan walked down the street, the cool night breeze brushing against him.
It was supposed to be a refreshing evening, but Ning Fan's mood was anything but light. Instead, it was endlessly complex. The events of today had left him unsettled, and he still hadn't recovered from it all.
As if the icy sensation on his cheek still lingered, Ning Fan instinctively touched his face. The cigarette dangling from his lips had unconsciously burned halfway through.
"It's getting late, I should head back..."
Checking the time, Ning Fan realized it was already late into the night. Looking at the deserted streets, he finally understood why the roads were so empty; the night had grown old.
Except for the night market, everywhere else was devoid of people.
Dragging his tired body in the direction of home, Ning Fan had no idea that someone whose pain was far deeper than his own was lying on a bed at this moment, silently crying.
