275. La Dolce Vita

She fumbled blindly, grabbing the plastic bag in her embrace, which contained her waterproof wallet, meticulously wrapped, the double protection almost made Xia Beiluo cry with relief.

Her chin dripped with blood, washed clean by the rainwater or perhaps tears, as the droplets brazenly jabbed at her wound, peeling back the chafed flesh and skin, a searing pain that was nothing to Xia Beiluo.

The reacquired money was the world's best anesthetic.

She gritted her teeth, and under the cold downpour, her body seemed to grow stronger, striding forward, she pulled her second-hand bike out of the mud; the chain had broken. Left with no choice but to push the handlebars, she rolled up her trousers, took off her shoes, hung them around her neck, and waded through water all the way back.

She could no longer remember how much time had passed.