On a late autumn night, the temperature was already cold, and gusts of chill wind blew through the desolate cemetery, always seeming like someone was sobbing by the ear. It made the listener's scalp tingle, and a timid person would probably have been scared to the point of passing out.
Kang Chen looked around, without even a lamp, and walked into the cemetery.
The call that afternoon only said to meet here but didn't mention in which specific area.
This cemetery was huge, looking around, rows upon rows of tombstones, eerie and as if ghosts could appear at any moment.
Kang Chen's hands were already handcuffed, yet he walked with firm and swift steps. To him, the pitch-black night posed almost no obstacle; he walked the path as easily as if it were daylight.
Kang Chen walked for a while, then stopped: "I'm here, come out."
The night was deep, and the wind blew past his ears.
