Prison Pet of the Abyss: Wan Wan, Don't Run Away

The wind in September carries the residual warmth of late summer, blowing through the thick branches and leaves of the large camphor tree, casting mottled light and shadow. Zheng Wanwan held a stack of professional books she had just borrowed from the library and walked briskly on the avenue. The hem of her white dress swayed gently with her steps, like a fluttering butterfly.