The sound of something being smashed and destroyed echoed outside the window.
Mu Qinglan's eyes shook, but she didn't stop.
Smash. Another sound of destruction, closer and much louder.
Another smash. Louder. Closer.
This time, we both froze and looked towards the window.
The sound was distinct now—glass, maybe a bottle, shattering against stone. A muffled voice shouted something, the words warped by the thick windows.
"…saw him… that guy with the gun—"
Qinglan's fingers slowly loosened around me, her body still pressed against mine. Her brows furrowed slightly.
"…are they talking about you?" she whispered, lips brushing my cheek.
Before I could answer, there was another crash, it sounded like metal and glass. A trash bin slammed against something, smashing glass, then something toppled onto the pavement with a long scraping grind.
More shouting. Closer this time. "Where'd he go—black coat, tall—he had a fucking machine gun!"
Qinglan pulled back a little, eyes narrowing.
