Handgun

There were no booths on the second floor. There were no karaoke boxes or bar counters either. There were only maze-like walls of different lengths arranged in no particular order. On every wall, there was a painting drawn with thick ink and heavy colors which Wen Leyang could not decipher. It was as if there was a splash of ink which was simply spread out using a brush into a graffiti. Every wall was filled with the intense and full emotions, pure emotion, nothing else.

There were quite a number of people on the second floor as well. However, unlike the surging wildness downstairs, the men and women here were talking in hushed tones under the influence of alcohol. Occasionally, they would laugh in a low voice, unrevealingly invoking a flirt in the contrasting silence.