Just as Zhou Xiang was about to pick up a stone from the roadside to smash a car window, a hoarse and blurry voice suddenly came from above his head, with a hint of laughter.
Zhou Xiang jerked his head up, and within his gaze, there were a pair of long legs wearing short boots and black cargo pants dangling in midair.
Beside this path was a nearly two-meter-high border wall, and he was sitting at the broken end of the wall, wearing a dark blue hooded sweatshirt, almost blending into the night sky.
Zhou Xiang took two steps back, sobering up more than halfway.
The person pressed his hands on the wall and leaped down from midair, landing lightly and silently on the ground, quick and nimble.
Zhou Xiang looked at him warily, "Who are you?!"
He was now completely sober, the sense of crisis filling him, but the sedan was blocking his way, leaving him no way to advance or retreat.
The person lifted his head.
