The storm howled outside the window, obscuring the vast full moon and washing over each leaf of the Blue Eucalyptus trees like viscous, clinging threads that seemed to cement one's soul.
Pei Zhen extended a pale hand and picked up the robe beside him. He loosely draped it over himself. The high-quality fabric hem fell, dragging along the floor. His icy eyes were barely open, the red mole on his nose bridge gleaming faintly in the night.
He surveyed the room. The safe was open, its contents taken. The empty envelope, now weightless, had been blown by a gust of wind to the side of the bed, like an unsigned farewell letter.
"Gone?" He affectionately parted his lips and closed his eyes.
He walked to the bathroom and stood before the mirror.
Once again, he opened those frenzied, brooding eyes. He felt his blood coursing coldly and slowly through him as he indifferently scanned his body, his gaze exceptionally detached.
