This was a small rest room, only about ten square meters, furnished with a bed, a TV, and an electric fan—nothing more.
The fan was covered in dust, indicating it hadn't been used in quite some time, though the bedding was rather clean.
Song Yun flipped over, lay on the bed, and then pulled the quilt over himself.
Soon, while several people were engrossed in gambling and not paying attention to Song Yun, the window next to the little room cracked open slightly.
A faint sound of friction came from the window, then quickly disappeared.
In an unoccupied corner on the second floor, Song Yun's figure slowly emerged.
Then, like any ordinary white-collar worker, he approached the nearby staircase.
