The surroundings changed abruptly.
I went from the empty suburbs straight to the bustling city center, where I saw the giant screen on the pedestrian street.
The scene did not last long.
Bright daylight turned to night.
It was late. Not only had the giant screen on the pedestrian street been turned off, but all the shops had closed for the night as well. The distant neon lights had been replaced by darkness, leaving only the moon hanging high overhead.
After driving for a while, the car passed the pedestrian street and reached the quiet Cultural Road.
There was an artistic calendar and clock on Cultural Road.
To my surprise, the date displayed on it was "tomorrow"—the same "tomorrow" when I went to see Ye Qing and rushed home to check the files.
The giant screen on the pedestrian street hadn't shown this time before.
Just as I was wondering about it, the car slammed on the brakes.
The shrill sound of the brakes was especially piercing in the silent night, as if someone had sliced open the darkness and roused the whole world.
The sun hadn't risen, and no lights had come on, but the air inside the taxi had already changed.
A wave of yin energy poured out, like gasoline spilling from a broken barrel and filling the entire taxi with its smell.
This wasn't just a metaphor. The yin energy itself carried a strange gasoline-like smell.
Along with the gasoline smell came the scent of smoke, somewhat like the lingering smell in a cemetery—the smell of burning paper money.
The accelerator was pressed again.
This time, the car drove straight ahead, charging toward the artistic calendar.
The wooden sign surrounded by flowers didn't shatter. The car passed right through the artwork, then through the art museum behind