Downstairs,
it's really fucking high!
Nan Jiaojiao stuck her head out; the window led straight down, with no horizontal bars for her feet, all flat.
There was an air conditioning unit on the left, but it was too far. She would have to stretch herself fully to barely reach it.
Climbing over walls was really the last option. For someone as cautious with their life as Nan Jiaojiao, who had done plenty of missions before, she was now purely a weak girl without any tools.
She glanced back at Song Yuan.
The back of the sofa faced her direction. She could see Song Yuan's head leaning on the sofa earlier, but now she couldn't even see her head, nor hear any voices. The smoke in the room couldn't escape, and occasionally Song Yuan coughed, but the coughing became weaker and weaker.
Suddenly, a surge of heroism filled Nan Jiaojiao's heart.
