"Alright, sorry to disturb your rest, I'm hanging up now!"
"Looks like even the War God has unseen weaknesses, talk to you later, hanging up!"
...
In less than five minutes, a message arrived on Zhang Yang's WeChat.
Zhang Yang glanced at it, feeling an unspeakable confusion that seemed to find its direction upon seeing the name Lianshan.
The cigarette butt was flicked out the window, gear shifted, and the van headed homeward.
The next morning, Zhang Yang changed into slightly more formal attire and drove to the address given by old Zhao.
It was an unassuming small street tucked behind the city's commercial street.
Compared to the bustling main road, this place felt entirely different: cramped, old, with a faint smell of urine lingering in the air.
Zhang Yang parked the van against the wall, glanced at the sign overhead to ensure it was the right place, then pushed the door open and strode in.
