Zhang Beixing's voice trembled slightly, "Last chance, are you sure right here? I haven't prepared anything."
"As long as it's you, it doesn't matter where we are, prepared or not, it's all good," Lin Siqi said, biting her lip, her gaze resolute and certain.
"Got it."
"SNAP—"
The tent's light went out.
The tent pitched near the forest, over eighty meters away from Zheng Jituo and the others, quieted down.
Outside, the rain grew heavier, and the sky, which had been gradually brightening, darkened once again, as if it were night, occasionally accompanied by the rumbling of thunder.
Raindrops beat upon the tent and leaves, creating an endless PITTER-PATTER of sounds.
