The bright winter moon hung high in the sky. The night sky past midnight was tranquil.
The latter half of a winter night in Beijing was bone-chillingly cold. The sea of bustling lights began to grow quiet, and the outlines of various districts gradually faded into the night darkness, which rose like an ocean wave from the earth to engulf the city.
The flow of traffic gradually trickled to an end, and the human tide receded. All the clamor and busyness of the day grew peaceful after midnight.
This massive city was sleeping soundly, waiting to wake up tomorrow.
The night breeze drifted in from the edge of the sky to the ends of the alleys, spreading across the stillness of this late Beijing night.
Some people were turning over in warm beds, having good dreams about tomorrow; some people were bent over their desks, chasing ideals and futures; some people were holding fast to their night-shift posts, guarding their duties and stability.
And someone was howling while cosplaying a meteor hammer.
"Ahhhhh! I was wrong! I was wrong, Ling!!"
Beneath the Night Bureau, inside the subterranean micro-city that served as the "Night Roamer" hangar,
following successive failures at acting cute and shifting the blame onto teammates, Fang Ran finally pulled out his trump card—the soulful monologue of an idol male protagonist!
According to Fang Ran's understanding of this move, after listening to his words, Ling should cover her face with one hand, deeply moved, and then pull him into an embrace while saying, You've worked hard out there, simultaneously forgiving all his actions. Depending on how the plot developed, she might even go home and personally stir-fry two dishes for him, casually tossing him some allowance money on the side.
Unfortunately, reality was not an idol drama, and he