218, only one hand...

Midnight is a very delicate time.

It signifies the end of one day, and the start of another.

In the hotel corridor, there hung a round, old-fashioned clock, and as the hour, minute, and second hands all struck twelve, there was a ticking sound.

Then, suddenly, the whole corridor was filled with a short burst of urgent, ticking alarm sounds.

Even with a torrential downpour outside, creating quite a racket, the alarm of the clock was still piercingly sharp.

Every hotel designs their hallways with dim lighting, because this gives people a sense of comfort and ease.

Of course, in Mrs. Mary Shaw's hotel, this aspect was greatly exaggerated.

After nightfall, the lights would dim gradually, leaving the corridor pitch black and deep as if an invisible gaping maw had opened, ready to swallow whole anyone who entered it.

...

Meanwhile, in Du Wei's room.

He was not sleeping, but sitting on the bed, wiping his gun with a clean cloth.

Upon hearing that urgent alarm sound.

Suddenly...