He was lying on the cement floor at the edge of the rooftop, it was freezing cold, and the clothes on his back were torn. I glanced down - there were about thirty floors, and my heart was beating very fast. He remembered everything.
The billboard on the second floor was still lit with neon lights. It was Shu Jiuxiang Hot Pot. The smell of butter wafted up from the bottom of the red oil pot, making him so greedy that he almost cursed.
