At night in Jiangcheng, the neon lights were like an overturned paint tray, painting the entire city in a strange and bizarre light.
In the penthouse duplex apartment, Chen Mo was sitting alone in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window, holding a glass of freshly sobered red wine in his hand, looking calmly at the city that never sleeps below him.
He didn't like it to be too lively, so he decorated the apartment extremely simply, with cool colors and almost no extra decoration except for necessary furniture. Quietness is his way of enjoying solitude.
The cell phone on the table vibrated, breaking the silence in the room.
Chen Mo did not go to get it immediately, but drank the red wine in the glass first, feeling the warmth of the mellow liquid sliding down his throat and into his stomach. He put down the wine glass and then picked up the phone slowly.
Two words danced on the screen: Old K.
