Taking a deep breath, Yang Xiao inserted the key into the lock and slowly opened the door. In the dim light, the room still looked the same, except now it had an additional person.
An old man in a worn cotton coat sat on the broken wooden chair with his back to Yang Xiao. His disheveled hair had gone white, and his frail body hunched together. The dim yellow light cast his shadow on the ground, a small and miserable bundle that looked heart-wrenching.
Yang Xiao didn't speak; he dared not disturb the old man and merely tried to move closer. He saw an old red telephone sitting forlorn in front of the man.
"Zzz..."
"Zzz...zzz..."
From on top of the cabinet next to the television, an old radio crackled with noisy static, seemingly due to a poor signal.
"Who are you?" the old man asked with a hoarse voice, without turning his head.