The heavy rain pounded on the iron awning, making a crackling sound, like the countdown of fate beating down on the head.
Su Wanqing opened her eyes suddenly, her chest heaved violently, and cold sweat soaked her thin pajamas.
She stared blankly at the winding black water stain on the ceiling, as if she could still see the image of herself hanging on the edge of the window frame three days ago - the wind rushed into her throat, the neon lights downstairs flashed like will-o'-the-wisps, and the mobile phone screen finally freezes on Gu Yebai's live broadcast of the new drama conference: He stood under the spotlight, his suit straight, and his voice was low and sad: "Wan Qing is my most regrettable muse... I hope she can finally write with peace of mind in another world."
