The next day.
Rather than calling it morning, it's better to say it's a vague moment in time within Anvil Fortress, where the perpetually dim space is filled with the smell of cheap tobacco and engine oil.
Fang Qingyu was woken up by a bout of violent coughing and indistinct cursing from next door.
"Cough... phoo! Damn it, sleeping in this hellhole for a night feels like my bones are falling apart! Those damn neighbors were howling all night, how can anyone live like this?"
Chu Kuanglan's muffled complaints pierced through the paper-thin metal wall, clear as if ringing right by the ear.
Fang Qingyu opened his eyes. The small room remained dim, filled with the strange mixed odor of iron rust, sweat, and overnight rotten food.
Jiang Wei was curled up on the inner side of the iron-frame bed, her small brow furrowed, obviously not having slept well either.
