Rainwater still clung stubbornly to Ding Feng's clothes by the time he finally dragged himself into the apartment building.
The stairwell smelled faintly of mildew and old concrete, every step upward creaking beneath worn-out shoes and years of neglect. Dim hallway lights flickered overhead, buzzing inconsistently as though even electricity struggled to care about this place.
Ding Feng climbed the stairs slowly.
His body was tired.
But more than that—
His spirit was.
By the time he reached his apartment door, his sweatshirt was soaked through, damp hair sticking uncomfortably to his forehead and neck.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The apartment was exactly what one would expect from a man who had given up trying. It was sparse and messy with minimal furniture. There was a couch that had seen better decades...A small table and bare essentials. There was no warmth and no personality.
