Ten past six in the morning.
On the fourth floor of the Ghost Post Office, all the messengers gathered.
Yang Jian, Li Yang, Yang Xiaohua, the Eagle, Leuk Qingqing, Wang Feng... including the two named Qin Kai and Da Qiang, there were a total of nine people.
Quite a number.
However, if you set aside Yang Jian and the others who came up from the third floor, the fourth floor messengers themselves were pitifully few—only four, not even enough to fill the seven rooms.
This is because the rest of the fourth-floor messengers were all dead.
They had died, one by one, during the post office's late-night hours, killed amidst the tasks of delivering letters.
At this moment.
Everyone stood in the corridor, staring at the red balloon floating above the atrium in the middle of the hallway. Their gazes were heavy, their thoughts unreadable.
Tied to the red balloon was a crimson envelope.
This was the mission to deliver letters this time.
