As soon as Wang Hao returned to the dormitory, he saw the basin of dough on Jiang Feng's desk.
The lights were blazing in the dormitory, the doors and windows were shut tight, the rolling pin was stored in the cabinet and hadn't been taken out, Jiang Feng's shoes were scattered next to the chair, but the man himself was nowhere to be seen, leaving behind only the mysterious dough on the desk.
Only 21 years old but with more than ten years of experience reading novels, and even trying his hand at writing one this year, Wang Hao's imagination couldn't help but run wild.
Wang Hao remembered that something had been off about Jiang Feng since last year.