The sea breeze whistled and whistled.
The waves crashed against the shore, and the waves were turbulent.
It was the hottest season in Fiji, but on the island, it was not hot and humid. Instead, it was cold.
At that moment, the speedboat stopped at a small dock on the southern shore of the island.
Zhao Yu had a deep impression of this small dock, because back then, as a newcomer to the detective salon, he had set foot on the island of strange occurrences from here.
There was no one at the dock, and it was cold and desolate.
As he walked up the steps to the higher part of the cliff, an even more dilapidated scene appeared in front of him.
The maze of plants had turned into ruins. The plants had withered and were covered in green moss, turning into a desolate Taiga.
Ding Lan's ponytail was messed up by the cold sea breeze.