The night was deep, and the evening breeze was slightly cool.
The dim streetlights cast long, solitary shadows.
Sheng Qianchi's car was parked in the middle of the road, arrogantly blocking Pei Nianchen's path.
The road was deserted and empty, clearly cordoned off.
He wore black trousers and a black shirt, lazily leaning against the car door, holding a cigarette between his fingers, elegant and aloof.
In the night breeze, the smoke rose in tendrils, blurring together, giving him the appearance of an old photograph.
Hearing a sound, he turned his head and glanced over with a wild and alluring gaze.
Pei Nianchen involuntarily gripped the steering wheel tighter, the corners of his eyes and brows carrying a fierce mockery, slowing the car down, stopping three meters away from Sheng Qianchi.
He pushed the door open and got out, their eyes locking.
When rivals meet, the disdain is palpable, and the silent confrontation begins to spread.
