"Where... where should I shine it?" The scavenger took the flashlight—Sun Hang's flashlight was borrowed from the Field Operations Department, a standard military-grade device, with brightness and battery life far superior to the civilian models the scavenger originally had.
"Just shine it where you're walking, watch your step so you don't fall off," Sun Hang said.
"You... you don't need a flashlight?"
"No need, I can see."
As he spoke, Sun Hang had already reached the bottom level of the stairs. In front of him was a rusted iron door—unlocked, but with a yellowing A4 paper attached to it, printed in orange font: "Machine Room Restricted, No Admittance."
Sun Hang ignored the warning sign and forcefully pushed open the rusted iron door.
A rush of machine room odor instantly permeated his nostrils.
