The warehouse door slammed shut once again, ruthlessly shutting the moonlight outside. That bit of brightness was instantly devoured by the darkness.
The three of them leaned silently against the wall, like three frozen statues.
After a long time, the quiet night was pierced only by a sigh, full of helplessness.
Going to Jiang Che's house for a meal, that's something they'd do often enough.
But to change the other's perception of seasoning—there's absolutely no way.
Because it's just like trying to describe color to a blind person, or telling someone without taste buds about salty, sweet, bitter, and spicy.
Wraiths have no sense of taste, but their sensitivity to texture is razor sharp.
The food they tasted today—all the ingredients' textures were undoubtedly top-notch.
The three of them tacitly stopped dwelling on this matter.
At this moment, the night was as thick as ink, dense and unyielding, yet the people in the territory felt no urge to rest.
