The evening wind of late autumn carried a bone-chilling chill, rolling up a few withered yellow sycamore leaves. They slapped against the glass curtain wall of the Jiangcheng Municipal Building and were pulled by the wind to the distant neon sea. Su Jin stood on the terrace of the 18th floor. The cigarette butt held between her fingertips burned to the end, and her fingertips shrank because of the heat. Then she pushed the cigarette butt into the metal ashtray next to her.
