Qiao Yi stood on tiptoes on the slightly tilted eaves of the inn, her dark red gauze skirts blooming in layers in the night wind, fluttering wantonly. Her eyes were fixed on the busy traffic not far away.
It is spring, and even at night there is still a faint fragrance, and the rue trees beside the road scatter petals like star rain. Gorgeous cars and BMWs were coming and going on the road not far away, and sweet music mixed with women's smiles passed through all kinds of people and came through the whistling wind.
Qiao Yi raised her catkins and looked at her hands, which were once covered with blood. But now she didn't expect to use these hands to save one person's life, no, maybe many lives.
A murderous intent suddenly surged in the darkness in the northwest corner.
Qiao Yi pursed his lower lip, the air flow moved slightly and disappeared into the darkness.