Only the roar of Grain Rain echoed across the silent overpass.
The endless torrential rain seemed to have severed this place from the mortal world, cutting it off from everything and swallowing the whole world whole.
"So that's what you look like."
Huai Shi opened the car door and stared at the old man inside. Ignoring the pistol pointed at his face, he examined him solemnly—mottled white hair, meticulously combed; a dignified expression; a crisp suit. He looked as though he had just stepped down from a podium.
"What a... respectable-looking face."
Huai Shi pushed aside the trembling pistol and climbed into the car, soaked through. He sat across from Qi Wen, leaving streaks of rainwater and blood on the leather sofa.
Being rich was nice.
Looking around at the refined decorations inside the spacious cabin, he lowered his head to look at the soft carpet beneath his feet and the black footprints he had left behind. Smacking his lips, he looked up and asked, "Got any cigarettes?"
Qi Wen said nothing. Veins bulged on the back of the hand gripping the gun.
He was gripping it so hard.
Yet he did not have the courage to pull the trigger. After a long while, his hand dropped weakly onto his knee.
Meanwhile, Huai Shi finally found several cigars sealed in copper tubes in a hidden compartment in the armrest. They looked absurdly expensive, and even smelled like money.
"Thanks."
After politely thanking him, Huai Shi took out a knife and pried open one of the tubes. Imitating what he had seen in movies, he cut both the head and foot of the cigar, but the opening seemed a little too large. The whole thing nearly came apart, making him quickly pinch it tight.
After all, if one fell apart, it