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"Meng Ping, it's really nice here." Ling Yun looked around curiously, and the bohemian dress on his body fluttered and danced. The light in the corridor is dim, as if there is misty smoke, and the small bright red searchlight on the wall makes the exquisite glass bottom tiles even more exquisite and translucent. Xu Mengping put his arms around Ling Yun's shoulders and walked forward with a smile in his eyes: "My wife personally picked me up from get off work, why don't you reciprocate the favor?" Ling Yun glanced sideways at her husband and said coquettishly, "Hey, don't do this." The beauty in cheongsam led the two of them into a small room at the end of the corridor. There is a four-seater walnut dining table and chairs in the room, and many small green potted plants are arranged on the windowsill.

At 11:30 pm on February 8, late at night on Chengyang Road, the wind suddenly blew. The dim street lights, like tired fireflies, made the night darker. Scattered sounds of firecrackers could be heard from residential areas in the distance, just like Japanese cuisine, one dish after another, exquisite and detailed, but never satisfying. When I opened the car door, the cold wind hit my face, unexpectedly hitting my heart and lungs. She gasped. The wind swept over the firecracker paper and dead leaves, swirling and dancing in the air. I waved away the flying dust and hit the car door, the anti-theft lock buzzing. The crisp sound of high heels echoed on the sidewalk, which was slightly messy. Several jokes about drunkards came to mind, and she tried the zigzag move, patted her red face, and giggled. Squatting down, using the light of the Nokia N95 in her hand, she unlocked the special lock, opened the rolling shutter, and pushed open the glass door.