The apartment here is quite old, belonging to a family building of some struggling unit, only seven floors high, without an elevator. The hallway is dim, with the old-style carved windows covered in layers of dust and cobwebs, making it difficult for light to penetrate.
As the three walked down the hallway, Zhou Ying said, "The place we're going to today might really be the house my mom lent out. It's her house, so I can't control what she does with it, but I can't let it fall into the hands of those cult con artists!"
He huffed indignantly, "This house is a collective housing from my mom's former workplace. She thought it was particularly meaningful, so she didn't hand it over to the family financial advisor and rented it out herself."
Because the old apartment wasn't well-soundproofed, they climbed the stairs slowly, speaking softly, with a touch of gentleness.
