No more honking of cars at his ear, no more lights from the billboard across the street flooding into the room through the night.
He slept.
24th.
From morning, the sun was nowhere to be seen, as leaden clouds laid like a shroud from the mountaintop to the sea's edge.
The dim light made it difficult to tell morning from evening.
The forest was thick with a sinister atmosphere, as the sea wind boldly tore through the embrace of the branches, howling.
Most of the seabirds that scoured for food by the tide had vanished, even the frogs keen on their musical performances had shut their mouths.
The atmosphere was heavy, anyone could tell the weather would change.
All morning, Chen Zhou was working on reinforcing the tent—this place was much too close to the coast, he worried the crude dwelling might be blown away by the wind.
