Chen Lun closed the booklet and was silent for a long time.
He gazed at the campfire beside him, somewhat distracted, the orange glow reflecting in his eyes.
"Philip..."
Chen Lun whispered the name to himself.
He had never met Philip, yet he had received help from him numerous times. One could say that if it were not for that diary, he might have died in the prison of the Red Apple Church long ago.
"If possible, perhaps we really could have become friends, Philip."
Chen Lun mused aloud.
From fragmented pieces of information, he had been able to form a rough "sketch" of Philip, a person who disliked following the beaten path, whose life was filled with dark humor and a cynical detachment from the world.
At the same time, he was a "Lucky" man of misfortune.