The moonlight is thick, the dust is not clean, and the deep night seems to stir in a few wisps of milky white, slowly rippling, soaked in the cool winter, and shrouded in a thin and straight figure.

The man put one hand in his trouser pocket, and outside the window was the lonely moonscape, and his face seemed to be beating against the layers of intertwined shadows.

On the other end of the phone, there was a dull series of busy tones.

Three-second ..........

Chapter 104 of "Waiting for the Wind to Come from the Northwest" Starry Sky is in the middle of the hand, please wait for a while,

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