The rust-colored wind rolled up the gravel and hit the tempered glass curtain wall of the steam fortress hard, making a dull crackling sound, which was very much like Mu Jia's heartbeat at this moment. He huddled in the corner of the Reconstruction Bureau's material warehouse, his back pressed against the cold metal shelves. The stack of recycled parts on the shelves made his shoulder blades hurt, but he did not dare to move, and even breathed deliberately slowly, for fear of alerting the guards patrolling outside.
