September in Jiangcheng City is as sultry as a giant steamer, with only the chirping of cicadas tearing at people's eardrums in the lifeless afternoon.
The old street in the west of the city, at the end.
An old two-story building stood alone, its exterior walls covered with dead ivy, and its dark windows, like hollowed-out eye sockets, staring at passers-by. The "Horror House" sign at the door was in disrepair and hung crookedly in the air. It creaked when the wind blew, as if it would fall down and kill someone at any time.
Inside the room, Lu Feng was holding several wrinkled reminder forms in his hands, and his brows were so furrowed that he could pinch a fly to death.
"Water bill, electricity bill, and this damn property tax..." Lu Feng slapped the bill on the paint-stained front desk, his knuckles turning white, "If we don't open, I will really have to go drink the northwest wind."
