Night had fallen.
A dozen muscle cars and SUVs drove out of the city, Wei Tianyang sat by the window, drinking coffee, watching them depart.
He put down the book he had been reading for a long time. Only 20 pages remained of the thick book, nearing the end of the story, he somewhat reluctantly sped through, inserted a bookmark, and paced back and forth in the room.
He had developed a habit—if he was nearing the end of a book, he would set it aside for a while, pick up a new book to read the beginning, and then go back to finish the ending.
This gave him a sense of continuity, because each book he finished left him deeply melancholic. By doing this, he could smoothly transition into the next story, even convincing himself that the previous story was far from over.
