Lin Mo woke up from his hazy state when the cold rain hit his face. He shuddered suddenly and found himself standing in the middle of a deserted street, holding a hard-shell notebook tightly in his hand. The dim yellow light of the street lamp dimmed on the wet ground, and there was only the sound of rain and his own heavy and suppressed breathing.
Where is this? Why is he here?
The memory is like film soaked in water, blurry. He only remembered the last time... The last time he seemed to be in his rental house, facing this damn notebook... And then it went blank.
He lowered his head and looked at the thing in his hand. The black hard cover has no logo and is cold to the touch, even showing a chill in the rain on this summer night. The rainwater flowed down his wrist and dripped on the cover, but it did not leave any water stains. Instead, it seemed to be absorbed into it.
