C155 There Really Is Such a Thing

Ming Dao left the entertainment city alone. The night wind brought with it the chill of late autumn, which was bone-chilling. He was wearing a black shirt, but he didn't feel cold. The road went on and on in front of him, the dead leaves rustling in the wind like a dying dirge, mournful for the dead.

He had imagined countless times the times he would be able to see his brothers in the future