When John Hill arrived at the hotel room, Ning Xia was sitting on the floor, leaning against the sofa, holding a bottle of alcohol as if it were a microphone, and singing sorrowfully.
She was singing an old English love song, her usually clear voice had turned hoarse, blending with the low melody to easily invoke an atmosphere of utter misery.
Ning Xia, the woman who had faced numerous guns pointed at her head without flinching, now had red-rimmed eyes, on the brink of tears, her whole being shrouded in deep sadness and despair, truly startling John Hill.
She seemed like someone who could never be knocked down, yet unexpectedly, she also had this fragile side.
Immersed in her own world, Ning Xia hadn't noticed John Hill's arrival, singing a few lines, and then taking a gulp of alcohol. She drank hurriedly, and not carefully enough, choking on it and coughing repeatedly.
