Thunder roared through the sky, as impending rain loomed and the wind filled the air.
Zhang Fan sat at his desk, glancing toward the window, where a mass of dark clouds pressed down, turning the afternoon sky gradually darker, as if night had come early.
"Is it about to rain?" Zhang Fan murmured softly.
Thunderstorms in winter were rare; he took out his phone and dialed Old Yu's number, but no one answered.
He opened WeChat, sending a message to ask where he was and when he'd be back.
Bai Buran had told him before leaving, during thunderstorms, to keep a close watch on Old Yu.
It was known that in summer, when thunderstorms were frequent, Old Yu often took long vacations, apparently feeling unwell in such weather.
Zhang Fan had some suspicions in his heart.
"Are you driving?" Zhang Fan looked at the chat with Old Yu, but received no reply.
He subconsciously checked the sky again, patiently waiting while casually browsing through his friend circle.
"Hmm!?"
