The subway during morning rush hour is like a moving pressure cooker.
Xia Wanxing was squeezed tightly against the door, half of her body was numb. She felt like a can of beans that had been forced into a sardine can, with no room to turn around. There was a complex smell permeating the surroundings, the smell of sweat, greasy buns, and a woman's sweet perfume that hit her nose. The three mixed together to form a unique smell that can make people lose their vitality in an instant.
She was particularly unlucky today.
Just as the car door was about to close, an old man carrying a briefcase suddenly squeezed forward. The cup of scalding Americano coffee in his hand spilled every drop on her only decent white shirt.
"Hiss--"
