Fang Cheng weaved through the bustling crowd on the main street and turned into a secluded alley.
The alley was significantly quieter than outside, with all kinds of small shops crowding both sides.
The uneven shop signs were distributed along the street, and a faint smell of engine oil lingered in the air.
Relying on memories from half a year ago, Fang Cheng stopped midway down the alley.
Ahead was a shop facing the street, above which a wooden sign hung with five crookedly written characters—"Xinglong Welding Store."
However, the shop's iron shutter was tightly closed, with a thin layer of dust settled on it.
Fang Cheng stepped forward and knocked on the shutter with his fingers.
"Bang, bang."
The sound of metal clanking echoed through the narrow alley.
He waited for quite a while, but there was no response from inside.
Fang Cheng raised his wrist to glance at his watch; the hands had just passed four thirty.
