On the 13th, early in the morning.
The sun rose from the horizon, shrouded by the ground mist, turning a Chinese red. Below lay the city's silhouette, and above stretched a clear, cloudless sky. The sight compelled Zhou Li to instinctively take out his phone, snap a picture, and send it to Brother Nan.
In Yan City, such intensely red sunrises were rare.
The reason was likely Yan City's often cloudy, rainy, and foggy weather; it lacked the frequent clear skies of the north, and its air wasn't as transparent.
Zhou Li quickly closed the window and pulled his neck in.
"It's a bit cold."
"It's already late autumn, and we're in the north," Huai Xu, who had risen even earlier, remarked. "You're dressed too lightly. You might feel better after changing clothes later."
"Perhaps."
"Lord Dumpling isn't cold!"
"Of course, I can't compare to Lord Dumpling."
"Meow!"
