The sandalwood texture at the end of the billiard cue made the palm of his hand ache. Zhou Daye stared at the spinning white ball on the table, and a chill suddenly shot up on the back of his neck. At three o'clock in the morning, in the "E's Billiards Hall", the air conditioner was humming. A man in a black trench coat was wiping the cue with fine powder. The sound of the metal box lid "clicking" shut was very similar to the gunshots coming from the alley last month.
