The Crisis Chased Them from London

Tang Bing slumped by the roadside and shouted back in exasperation, then, too angry and aggrieved to say another word to him, snapped:

"Why don't you see whether her feet are numb and whether she still has the strength to walk?"

London time, around nine in the morning.

The sky had long since brightened completely. They had abandoned the car before dawn and left the outskirts; beside a highway, flat fields stretched endlessly on both sides.

This country of fewer than seventy million people used this tranquil landscape to show you what the English countryside looked like.

"Swindon should be just ahead. Hang in there, Junior."

"You're lying! I just checked the navigation—it's still four or five kilometers away!"

Seeing through him at once, her voice dragged out bitterly. Then, clutching her phone with an exhausted, complicated expression, she looked at Fang Ran.

"Um. Even though it seems a little late to ask now, why did we abandon the car and walk this far, Senior?"

"Driving that convertible—were you afraid they wouldn't be able to find you on the surveillance cameras?"

Having a deep understanding of what Technologists were like, knowing that even the weakest among them could donate all your savings to disaster relief, Fang Ran answered helplessly when Tang Bing asked.

"And if we ran into traffic police or anyone like that and got questioned, it'd be troublesome."

At the moment, not only did he have no identification on him, he was also carrying a gun.

After taking her backpack for her, Fang Ran reached out a hand and pulled the slumped Tang Bing to her feet.

"Come on. If you don't have the strength, I can carry you, but we need to reach Swindon before noon."

Swindon.

A small town in southwestern England, west of London and