He wasn't a heavy smoker, barely smoking a few cigarettes in a month. But after days of constant spinning, his nerves were frayed. The nicotine rolled through his lungs, bringing a brief sense of ease, but with it came the crushing weight of grief over losing a loved one.,The hand holding the phone had evenly proportioned and slender bones, it clenched suddenly. The streetlight illuminated the windshield, leaving half of his face in shadow, devoid of color.,Huo Mingzheng had just come out of the bathroom. After he sent a WeChat message to Fu Yan, he sat on the sofa and waited for a while but didn't get her reply. He went to take a shower.。