Lin Wei woke up from the cold.
The biting cold wind carried the moisture of late autumn and penetrated into her collar. She shuddered and opened her eyes suddenly - what she saw was not the 15-square-meter small second bedroom she rented, but the terrace of the most luxurious seven-star hotel in Jincheng.
What she was wearing was not pajamas, but a thin white dress with very little fabric, and the skirt was still stained with mud. What's even more outrageous is that she is holding a bouquet of withered red roses in her hand, and the petals fall to the ground, like a scene from some kind of bloody drama.
