8-35
The early morning sun slowly rose above the horizon, casting its lazy rays into the garden behind the mansion. It tickled the pale skin on Yu Qingyu's cold, stiff hands, holding a cigarette, trying to provide them with a hint of warmth.
But Yu Qingyu didn't even care whether his hands were warm or not. He had other things on his mind.
The sky was already bright. The night had ended more than half an hour ago. But Chu Junsha still hasn't come up.
It was so unlike her. She was always a punctual person. Even the previous nights, when she was alone in the basement with no windows, avoiding Yu Qingyu, she still came to their morning meetings on the back porch on time.
"Still not responding?" Yu Qingyu glanced at Zan Fanteng, who was sitting across from him, holding his phone by his ear.
Zan Fanteng shook his head. "No. No signal at all."