The next day, at Huai's pawnshop.
The atmosphere was as oppressive as water.
The myna bird was particularly quiet tonight, crouching in its nest, not daring to curse.
The basket filled with vegetables from last night was still sitting by the door, motionless.
Today's kitchen was spotless, without a trace of any aroma.
Zhao Huai lay on the bed with a cold expression.
He had never felt so desolate before, a feeling that was akin to a fucking heartbreak.
How could people turn their faces so easily?
He could still smell the faint fragrance at the tip of his nose, and see strands of black hair on his pillow.
But the person who used to be on the pillow was long gone.
After lying there for an unknown length of time, Zhao Huai finally gets up.
He couldn't figure it out and hadn't slept all night.
He lazily opened the shop, then laid his head on the table, watching the hustle and bustle of the street outside.
He kept laying there until noon, when it was time for lunch.