On New Year's Day, at a midnight intersection, rain poured down as neon lights flickered.
A silver centipede streaked across the sky. Lightning struck the wet high-voltage wires, bursting into a blaze of sparks as every light went out.
As the neon faded, a long-haired figure drenched from head to toe dragged his bleeding right leg forward with difficulty.
Other than blood and rainwater, he had nothing. He was utterly alone, infinitely desolate.
At the crossroads, the rain repeatedly washed over the streets, leaving the traffic lines gleaming white. After the traffic lights went dark, this place welcomed its first visitor.
The man stood in the very center of the intersection. Water surged against his soles layer after layer, only to scatter upon contact and gather again farther away.
There was not a sound to be heard. It was as if even the wind had stopped, while the rain continued endlessly striking his face.
His wet long hair clung to his cheeks, obscuring his features, but the crimson gleam flashing through the gaps in his hair made him seem especially eerie.
He raised his head as if calmly taking a deep breath. At the same time, a gleaming short knife appeared in his right hand, held in a forward grip.
With the blade pointed inward, he slowly moved it toward his heart.
At the same time, two figures appeared in his field of vision alone, staring at him amid the downpour.
One was tall and one was small. The short-haired young man held the hand of an ash-gray boy, both wearing gentle smiles as they silently watched him.
At the same time, at the end of Funeral Street, Huang Banxian had reached a fork in the road and seemed to be facing a difficult choice as well.
By now,