Looking around, the movie theater was now shrouded in darkness, with a scent of lemon slices mixed with disinfectant permeating the air.
The audience seats were almost empty, with only Ji Minghuan and the Prophet sitting there. The faint light from the screen illuminated their faces.
The two sat in the middle of the second row. They looked quite similar, and their postures were almost identical, except Ji Minghuan had a bucket of popcorn and a cup of cola in his hand. The cola had ice, as if it was a token of comfort the Prophet brought him.
Ji Minghuan raised the popcorn bucket and the plastic cup in his hand, glanced at them silently, and then turned his head.
He leaned against the armrest, gazing silently at the Prophet.
The Prophet did not turn his head; instead, he quietly watched the screen. His expression was morose, unfocused, like a silent, solitary lake.
