Taking a cab back to the apartment, Xiang Qichen unlocked the door and entered.
A complete silence.
Xiang Qichen reached out to turn on the hallway light and went straight to the bedroom.
The bed was neatly made, the floor-to-ceiling window curtains half-drawn, the newly lit streetlamp outside, softly yellow and weak, cast shadows inside, stretching across the window, leaving the room lifelessly desolate.
Xiang Qichen instinctively headed to the adjacent walk-in closet, pulling open one of the storage compartments.
A suitcase was missing.
His head suddenly felt heavy and started to spin. He raised his hand to rub it twice, took out his phone, and dialed Zhou Huaiyi again.
Phone off, phone off, phone off, hundreds of calls and it was always off.
He was about to go crazy.
...
Yang Li received a call from Xiang Qichen and didn't arrive at his apartment until half an hour later.
