The butt of the cigarette crushed out tiny sparks on the concrete floor of the rooftop. Fanzi looked at the night view of Hong Kong Island below. Neon lights were like melted gold flowing all over Victoria Harbor, and even the sea breeze carried a sweet smell of fireworks. The secret letter in the pocket was so hard that the corners were so worn that the fingertips ached. The three words "Supervisor" in italics on it were more dazzling than the neon lights.
